Member Reviews

One of my pet peeves features Hindi cinema’s toxic relationship with technology. You know how, in the middle of a public event, every single cellphone in the hall simultaneously beeps with a headline alert because the famous person it’s about is also present? Everyone turns to dramatically look at this unfortunate person; whispers and gossipy glances hijack the scene. This is how news spreads in such stories. It can be at a press conference, a panel discussion, even at a party. In Mithya: The Darker Chapter, it’s at a business auction that comes to a standstill. My questions are simple. How is it that nobody’s phone is on vibrate mode? Why are the shock and awe so coordinated? Why is it that no other message or app on the phone has a pop-up sound? The closest I’ve experienced as a real-world viewer is when, during a press screening of Super 30 (2019), most journalists in the hall audibly gasped when Dhoni got run out in that World Cup semifinal.

Comebacks are always interesting, especially when an actor is willing to look back and understand what went wrong in the first place. After a series of misfires, a resurgent Kiran Abbavaram is back with a festive release, mysteriously titled KA, that invests in a solid story over the heroics of the male protagonist. The period thriller offers a rich blend of action and emotions with a karmic twist.

Gentleman cadet Mukund Varadarajan is marching along with his batchmates during his passing out parade. During this march, an animated Indhu Rebecca Varghese shouts out the name of the love of her life. She also runs around to catch a glimpse of Mukund, who is one among the soldiers passing out. GV Prakash Kumar’s rousing score primes the scene for a romantic high. She is jubilant, happy, ecstatic, and sports a smile that reaches her eyes as Mukund marches with a straight face.

Amaran is based on the life of Major Mukund Varadarajan, who died during an anti-terror operation in Jammu and Kashmir in 2014. Biopics like this come with a unique challenge: since audiences already know the outcome, there’s little room for surprises. Directors often leverage the emotional depth of such stories to create resonance, sometimes stirring complex emotions or evoking our deepest fears. Filmmaker Rajkumar Periasamy, as expected, focuses on these emotional elements, ultimately leaving the audience with a deeper understanding of the human conflict hidden beneath layers of turmoil.

While promoting his latest movie, Lucky Baskhar, director Venky Atluri claimed that one of his biggest strengths is his talent in screenwriting. However, those closely following his filmography would tell you that his ability to assemble a stellar cast is his greatest asset. He once again showcases this strength with Lucky Baskhar.

Legendary American poet Maya Angelou once wrote, “When great trees fall in forests, small things recoil into silence…” Dulquer Salmaan’s latest film Lucky Baskhar is about one such small thing that decided to brave its fears, and find a way to survive when the tree of the great banking scam of the 90s fell. Of course, we have seen multiple iterations of this story through series like Scam 1992 and films like The Big Bull. But what Venky Atluri does in Lucky Baskhar is that he isn’t telling the story that everyone is focused on. He conjures up a story of a man who is caught in the crosshairs and decides to do something about it. Now, it is fictional, but it could have been true. And it is this thin line between fiction and reality that truly makes Lucky Baskhar a terrific watch.

Benjamin Ree’s The Remarkable Life of Ibelin starts off as a documentary about death. We see the tombstone of Mats Steen, a Norwegian boy whose body and soul were at war. A mix of VHS footage and family interviews then reveals that Mats had duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD), a degenerative disease that reduced his 25 years to a hellish survival story. His mind yearned for the momentum his muscles never had. Subsequent clips show his body shrinking on landmarks and vacations, the end inching closer.

Do Patti begins with scattered shots of paragliding gone wrong and a stakeout on a bridge, followed by a woman in a police station telling the cops her husband tried to kill her. Phir Aayi Hasseen Dillruba, released in August, also has a stakeout on a bridge, and its first scene is a woman in a police station telling the cops her husband is going to kill her. Both films are written by Kanika Dhillon, both are Netflix releases. Did no one think it was a problem that the films start the exact same way?

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.

For a long time, one believed that a compelling cinematic narrative shows more than it tells, and expresses more than it explains. However, the recent content spurt on OTT platforms seems bent on cerebrating the opposite. Do Patti is yet another addition to the long list of films that skip theatres for a streaming service. It reduces the art of storytelling to a mere artifice for meaningful cinema. These films end up delivering the message but little else.