Member Reviews

History is proof that the most memorable Hindi films have centred on impossible deals. I will offer some examples. In Raj Kanwar’s Judaai (1997), a wife sold her husband to another woman for a briefcase of cash. In Satish Kaushik’s Hum Aapke Dil Mein Rehte Hain (1999), the two principal characters enter into a one-year marriage contract; in S. Shankar’s Nayak: The Real Hero (2001), a journalist makes a deal with a chief minister to fill in his shoes for a day. Apart from finding Anil Kapoor, the actor present in all three films, either brokering deals or being brokered in such agreements, the instances highlight the commonality of these segues.

In cricket, when the fielding team challenges an LBW (Leg Before Wicket) call, the DRS (Decision Review System) comes into play. This DRS process is a lot like reviewing a film or show. Every stage corresponds to real-world parameters. First, the third umpire checks if it’s a legal delivery — the equivalent of checking if the craft and shot-taking and basic staging are fundamentally sound. Then they move onto Snickometer to see if there’s an edge off the bat or glove — the equivalent of checking if the storytelling is engaging. Finally, Ball Tracking is used to project the trajectory of the delivery. Even here, it doesn’t matter if the ball is hitting the stumps, it has to pitch in line — the equivalent of checking if the intent and politics of the narrative add up. If all checks out, the on-field decision can be reversed and the batsman is ruled out — the equivalent of defying an anti-art industry and making a good show.

In the last few years, the Marathi film industry has seen filmmakers from the Vidarbha region take the spotlight with films set in the region. Albeit a serious concern, Marathi films based in Vidarbha have had a set template revolving around farmer issues and farmer suicides. But films like Jayanti (Shailesh Narwade), Zollywood (Trushant Ingle), Ghaath (Chhatrapal Ninawe) and Territory (Sachin Shriram), have been changing the tide, bringing forth untapped stories. Jayant Digambar Somalkar’s ‘Sthal’ is the latest entrant in the list. The film, which releases theatrically a day ahead of International Women’s Day and features an ensemble cast of first-time actors, has won accolades across various international film festivals in the last couple of years. Set in Dongargaon village in Wardha, Sthal (A Match) revolves around the Wandhre family’s quest to find a suitable match for their daughter Savita (an impactful Nandini Chikte).

Colleges are swanky theme parks for fashion and filmi romances in Karan Johar’s universe. From Kuch Kuch Hota Hai to Student of the Year, the coolness quotient in his depiction is a no-expense-spared fantasy we continue to live in vicariously. No wonder his more hand-me-down home productions and streaming offshoots have no desire to escape its allure. Only the pretty leans heavily towards plastic in Nadaniyaan, the Netflix campus romance directed by his Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahaani assistant Shauna Gautam based on Riva Razdan Kapoor’s story. Desperate high schooler striking a mutually beneficial deal with a fellow student to play her pretend boyfriend for a few days until they actually fall in love causing complications is a done-to-death Hollywood trope.

The trailer of Nadaaniyan- which marks the debut of Saif Ali Khan and Amrita Singh’s son Ibrahim Ali Khan in Bollywood opposite Sridevi’s daughter Khushi Kapoor - had given us all enough hints at how bland a film it would be. When I sat down to watch the movie, my expectations were already low considering that the trailer looked unimpressive. But the film, helmed by Shauna Gautam and backed by Karan Johar’s Dharmatic, is far lower than what I had expected it to be. A two-hour bland romance drama, Nadaaniyan makes Gen Z -the film’s target audience- look dumb, dumber, dumbest, and its lead characters one dimensional with zero sense of rationale and practicality.

It’s a wonder that after 12 years of professional film criticism and finding creative ways to pan ghastly Bollywood movies, the deepest thought that entered my head after watching Nadaaniyan was: “I want to kick this film”. Such a primal, crude urge. Kick, really? So much for all those analytical skills and fancy words. All those carefully constructed rants and sarcastic takedowns. It’s the kind of thought that’s second to an animalistic grunt. I should do better. I should be calmer. But hey, at least I’m calling myself out here. At least I’m admitting that my brain is broken and incapable of making sense. That makes me ‘Self-Aware’. And self-awareness is a superpower that we often abuse to weaponise our flaws. In this day and age, an idiot that knows they’re an idiot is automatically wise.

I had never thought that there would come a film — at least in my lifetime — that could challenge the combined vacuous pointlessness of the Student of the Year franchise. That distinction belongs to Nadaaniyan, a film which, even though we are just in March, stands a good chance of being within the Top 5 section of the worst films list of 2025. Nadaaniyan, streaming on Netflix, comes from the same folks who, of course, made the Student of the Year franchise. Dharma Productions may have packaged its ‘younger’ productions as the more sleek-sounding Dharmatic, but Nadaaniyan is clearly not the kind of film that is going to take them far. Nor is it the kind of debut that actors Saif Ali Khan and Amrita Singh should have approved for their son Ibrahim Ali Khan.

How much does a young boy have to go through to be allowed the freedom to have an emotional breakdown? When we first meet Mithya (Athish Shetty), what we see is his back turned towards us as he travels on a train from somewhere to somewhere else. We later learn that he’s not travelling out of choice. He’s being displaced from his home in Mumbai to Udipi in Southern Karnataka where he will live with his uncle, aunt and their two daughters. Like Mithya, the film about him too has its back turned towards us. It’s not a film that grants you the solace of having empathised with its broken protagonist. Instead, it reveals these broken pieces so sparsely that we feel as lost and helpless as he does.

I remember watching the first season of Panchayat (2020) and thinking: Wow, this is going to change things. And it did. It altered the way we perceived “comedy” as a serious genre. It was very exciting to see a simple, slice-of-life environment — the iconic fictional village of Phulera and its bittersweet characters — seared into the modern streaming lexicon. But I’d be lying if I said I was blindly optimistic. At the back of my mind, there was this fear — a fear derived from years of watching Hindi cinema overkill a new sensation. Nobody knows how to quit while they’re ahead.