Akhil Arora

Don’t Be Shy, the new Prime Video original movie directed by Sreeti Mukerji and produced by Alia Bhatt, is a coming-of-age drama that fundamentally undercooks its characters. We discuss how the film’s bloated, two-hour-plus runtime wastes the potential of its unlikable protagonist and buries meaningful character development under unnecessary musical numbers and low-stakes college fest drama. We also talk about the frustratingly dated, millennial-coded writing that relies on tired “gym bro” tropes, superficial relationships, and corporate internship aspirations. Along the way, we lament the underutilisation of Kunaal Roy Kapur’s professor character, question the afterthought inclusion of chapter markers, and wonder when Bollywood will finally level up to the standard of Hollywood coming-of-age films from the 2000s, let alone the modern era.

Lust Stories 3, the new Netflix anthology featuring films from Vikramaditya Motwane, Kiran Rao, Shakun Batra, and Vishal Bhardwaj, is an uneven collection that mostly wastes its stellar ensemble cast. We discuss the frustratingly derivative nature of Batra’s divorce drama, Rao’s contrived thriller complete with an unnecessary twist, Motwane’s confused exploration of partner swapping, and Bhardwaj’s whimsical 1980s segment. We also talk about the anthology’s inability to tell a grounded slice-of-life story without shoehorning in extreme dramatic plot devices. Along the way, we question why Netflix forces these disconnected shorts together into a single movie instead of releasing them as television episodes.

Instead of a gritty, remorseful gangster saga, Toxic is an exhausting 194-minute ego trip for its lead star, Yash. We discuss the clash of visions between director Geetu Mohandas’s attempt at an emotional father-son remorse drama and Yash’s demand for high-octane KGF-style star worship. Naturally, the film collapses under the weight of its conflicting ambitions. We also talk about the baffling visual language, its performative gender dynamics, and the claustrophobic close-ups that make a ₹500 crore budget look like cheap AI slop.

After the success of Amar Singh Chamkila, Imtiaz Ali returns with Main Vaapas Aaunga—a film that desperately wants to build a timeless love story, but forgets to make its lead characters believable. We discuss the movie’s sanitised and one-dimensional depiction of Partition trauma, the bizarre inclusion of stand-up comedy monologues, and question Ali’s “political reawakening”. Along the way, we talk about the disastrous casting of lead actor Vedang Raina, how the film treats historical trauma like a Wikipedia checklist, and why Naseeruddin Shah effortlessly outclasses everyone despite being bedridden.

Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey serves as a massive anti-war critique of the insatiable appetites of men and the erosion of trust. From useless suitors to disgraced conquerors, and from Agamemnon’s bloody fate to the dishonour trailing Odysseus’ crew everywhere they go, the film isn’t subtle about its themes. We also talk about the terrifyingly atmospheric hell scene, contrast the stunning visual spectacle with its rushed pacing in parts, and question why the dialogue swings wildly between cryptic symbolism and super basic hand-holding.

Satluj traces the long battle human rights activist Jaswant Singh Kalra fought to uncover the insidious violence embedded in ’90s Punjab—and just like its protagonist, the biopic too fought its own battle to release. We discuss Honey Trehan’s documentary-like realism, the film’s uncompromising, eerie atmosphere, and its uncompromising visuals of dread and fear that establish the sheer horror of police brutality—including a scene that rivals Inglourious Basterds in pure tension. We also debate the film’s sharp tonal pivot into a police procedural, the decision to show Khalra’s torture, as well as the characterisation of the titular figure—does Satluj do a good job of separating the man from the myth?

Dug Dug, the long-delayed satirical comedy from director Ritwik Pareek, doesn’t take its intriguing premise to the pinnacle. We discuss the film’s languid opening act that has little to do with the following hour. We also talk about its commentary on blind faith and superstition, and wonder why it doesn’t train its targets on bigger enemies, choosing instead to punch down.

Apex—the new Netflix survival thriller starring Charlize Theron and Taron Egerton—is like an anti-Australia propaganda video paid for by people still traumatised by the 2003 Cricket World Cup final. We discuss Netflix’s dedication to making instantly forgettable movies, its digitally created natural landscapes, and its by-the-numbers plot that has exactly two unexpected twists.