Between done-to-death tropes and flimsily updated ones, Mere Husband Ki Biwi sticks to ancient formulae yet gives a semblance of keeping up with the times only to confirm that old habits die hard. In Mudassar Aziz’s routine rom-com, a divorcee dangles between his fiery ex and doting fiancée sparking off a battle for one-upmanship. It starts like a cheesy David Dhawan comedy salvaged by Govinda’s inimitable lunacy back in the day and advances into a My Best Friend’s Wedding rehash sans the deliciousness of Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz’s jell-o pitted against creme brulee. Except this return to the 1990s style of whimsy evokes more nausea than nostalgia with its drab humour and out of sync performances.

Anuja begins with a girl telling her tween sibling a Panchatantra story about how a faithful mongoose saved a farmer’s child from a poisonous snake yet was mistaken for an attacker because of his master’s impetuous impulses. Making a thoughtful decision is central to writer-director Adams J Graves’ Oscar-nominated live-action short film – backed by the likes of Guneet Monga, Mindy Kaling and Priyanka Chopra Jones – about a pair of orphaned sisters inhabiting Delhi’s grimy, shabby slums.

Few films have boiled my blood like Jeo Baby’s The Great Indian Kitchen, which documents the daily drudgery a nameless, newly-married young woman undergoes as patriarchy claims another soul. Every single day, it’s the same routine. She cooks and serves all the meals, sweeps and mops the floor, washes the utensils and the clothes in a household whose men are only too happy to thrust down their ideas of a domestic goddess and shun any external assistance – help or home appliances. What plays out is a portrait of misery in monotony, imagine a reverse Perfect Days, wherein director Wim Wenders discovers poetry in the fixed pattern of a toilet cleaner in Tokyo as he goes about his daily chores and banal schedule across a gentle, meditative rhythm.

You know a movie is on shaky grounds when you find yourself agreeing with a sidekick who scoffs at the hero’s swagger, ‘Kahe ka Bachchan? Machhar aaya hai. Massal daal.’ Truth be told, Varun Dhawan’s good egg energy makes it hard to buy him as an indomitable hulk single-handedly taking on a battalion of goons and serving justice without worrying about the consequences. The amount of loud music and dramatic mood (rain, thunder, fire) gone in to make the actor look formidable is telling enough of how unsuitable he’s for the job. Directed by his assistant Kalees, Baby John is a scene-to-scene remake of Atlee’s Tamil hit, Theri with a couple of inconsequential tweaks and a superstar cameo that didn’t do anything for Singham Again and doesn’t do anything for this one either. Even if you haven’t watched Theri, which is purely fan service for Vijay fans, you wouldn’t miss out on anything. There’s no dearth of potboilers recycling the same old masala over the decades.

News is the truth that you choose to bring out, a cunning television journalist tells her artless subordinate early on in The Sabarmati Report. She’s the villain of the piece for concealing inconvenient realities and conveying only what suits her purpose and politics. Funny how The Sabarmati Report’s poorly crafted propaganda masquerading as a crusade for justice is nothing but a blatant embodiment of these very ideals.

Just like the earlier two Bhool Bhulaiyaa movies, kickstarted by Priyadarshan in 2007, the third of the horror comedy series by Director Anees Bazmee revolves around a phony psychic caught in the family drama of a haunted haveli. Bhool Bhulaiyaa 3 opens like one of those The Mummy preludes unfolding a dark history from 200 years ago only to cut to the present, signalling at the wicked all the wrongdoing has unleashed, which Ruhaan aka Rooh Baba’s (Kartik Aaryan) goofball ghostbuster must put an end to by hook or crook.

Dressed in the exact same attire as her newly wedded sister at her reception, the lookalike twin poses right next to the bride and groom as if fulfilling Bollywood’s bawdy fantasy of saali aadhi gharwali in a tasteless, thunder-stealing move.

Vasan Bala creates worlds that may appear deceptively similar to the ones you and I inhabit but run entirely on their own terms and whimsy. It’s a part of the film-maker’s charm and cinephile influences, which made the likes of Mard Ko Dard Nahi Hota and Monica O My Darling such a treat. Jigra, probably his most big-ticket project so far, is also his most sombre.

Vicky Vidya Ka Woh Wala Video has the eagerness of a standup comic. It is the sort of movie that feels obliged to make a joke before a sentence, between a sentence and after a sentence. Problem is the humour is not just pedestrian, it’s also plain unfunny. It’s a joke, Manjot Singh in a cameo points out early on in Director Raaj Shaandilyaa’s first comedy outside the Dream Girl franchise, as though embarrassingly aware of how unamusing the whole shtick is.

Unsettling, isn’t it? Our most reliable source of information and communication can be programmed to keep tabs on our mind and movement across the multiple devices that have become indispensable crutches of modern living. But then the Internet has always been a seductive, if not secure, space where all its gifts come with its share of dangers.