Anuj Kumar

During the pan-Indian wave, one thing that has reached Bollywood shores from the South is the toolkit of the Iron Age. Armed with cleavers, these days our heroes are slashing and slashing hard. It is not always when the stakes or tempers run high. It is just for the hack of it. Bored of firing gunshots from a distance, now they wield an axe and a hammer to grind the opposition to pulp. With an adult certificate becoming a sign of misplaced maturity, the makers can play with as much blood as they want. There is nothing like excess anymore. If Ranbir Kapoor can do it, how can Tiger Shroff be far behind? In this fourth installment of the action franchise, Ronny (Tiger) is madly in love with a girl named Alisha (debutante Harnaaz Sandhu), who the world feels doesn’t exist.

During the pandemic, a booster dose of the vaccine became a common term. It was intended to boost the immune system’s response to the virus. This week, Vivek Agnihotri injects a booster dose of cinematic virus that he unleashed with The Kashmir Files lest people develop immunity against communal politics. Once again, blending a discriminating version of the past with a myopic vision of the present, The Bengal Files not only scratches the wounds of the Partition but also punctures them to manipulate emotions. Soaked in blood and hate against one community and religion, the film uses cinema as a tool to divide. Juxtaposing the present State of affairs in West Bengal with the Calcutta riots of August 1946 in the wake of the Muslim League’s call for Direct Action Day, followed by the Noakhali riots, the film says that Partition is an unfinished business, instigating majoritarian fear about demographic change and illegal migration.

In the pantheon of real-life criminals that Indian filmmakers love to recreate on screen, Charles Sobhraj perhaps tops the list. The serial killer’s exploits are expounded with such reverence that the law enforcers appear pygmies in front of him. The latest being Black Warrant on Netflix. Debutant director Chinmay Mandlekar’s Inspector Zende finally turns the tables on him by revealing what happens after his daring escape from Tihar Prison in 1986. Though a worthy documentary on Madhukar Zende exists, it is surprising that Bollywood has taken such a long time to document the distinguished Mumbai Police officer who nabbed Sobhraj twice, without making a fuss. How it missed the attention of Akshay Kumar is a mystery!

A musical drama loosely inspired by the life of Padma Shri Raj Begum, Songs of Paradise puts into focus the rich poetic culture of Kashmir that often gets buried under the “Files” of jaundiced perceptions. It is the side of Kashmir that we have hardly seen in Bollywood. Set in a time and space when the idea of a woman singing in public was taboo, it follows the struggle of Zeba Akhtar (Saba Azad/ Soni Razdan), who emerges as the voice of freedom because of her talent and tenacity. With the support of her tailor father (Bashir Lone is outstanding), Zeba stitches her musical dreams under the tutelage of Masterji (Shishir Sharma), who urges her to participate in a singing competition organised by Radio Kashmir. She wins the contest, but the social stigma attached to music forces her to assume a pseudonym, Noor Bano.

Early in this romantic comedy, when Param (Siddharth Malhotra), a second-generation businessman who is besotted with data, buys into the idea of a new computer application that promises to find the perfect match for netizens, he wonders, “It looks good in theory, but is it practical?”. An hour into the film, and one realises that Param was inadvertently talking about the screenplay he is part of. The story of a romance crossing regional and cultural barriers might have sounded great on paper, but on screen, it plateaus before it reaches Deccan. In romantic comedies, the destination is usually known; it is the journey that matters. Twelve years after Chennai Express, Bollywood boards a passenger train to Kerala with the same level of ignorance about the South but much more self-awareness. Both liquidate the fun.

For a change, Pakistan is not the pivot of a Bollywood script that has a terror attack at its centre. Based on real events, Tehran draws from the alleged concerted Iranian attack on Israeli embassies in India, Georgia, and Thailand in 2012. Waiting in the wings for a while, Tehran assumes importance at a time when West Asia is on the boil again because of strained relations between Iran and Israel. The film shows how the two countries attack each other’s interests, but in this case, India, which has friendly ties with both Iran and Israel, gets caught in the crossfire between the two countries fighting a war of civilisations.

In childhood, we were attracted to comic digests by their girth. One used to believe that the more the stories, the more the fun. The pages were glossy, and the packaging used to be fetching. However, the excitement often dissipated into disappointment when one discovered that it was a marketing gimmick, where the publishers added only a couple of new adventures of our favourite characters, the rest were just a repetition. Ayan Mukerji’s sequel to War gives the same feeling of a recycled product that shines. It starts with a bang but soon becomes a rudderless star vehicle. In the race to populate the spy universe, screenwriters have compromised on substance, indulging in hero worship and flag-waving to pass the box office test. Yes, the trailer looks attractive, the stars shine bright, and the post-credit scenes are appetizing. However, when it comes to telling a story, the makers prove more successful in highlighting Kiara Advani’s curves than in conveying the contours of the storyline. It features a variety of stunts with a script that appears to be powered by artificial intelligence.

In the march of civilisation, some dear words are in danger of falling by the wayside. One of them is Ghich Pich. It can be loosely translated as cramped space, but it is a state of mind that a single word can’t explain. Much like the nostalgia of the 1990s, young filmmakers continue to revisit it to tell coming-of-age stories. It is a template where the focus is on providing an experience, and in the hands of director Ankur Singla, the emotional and physical architecture feels tangible and honest as he captures a slice of life from three Chandigarh boys grappling with hormonal rush and daddy issues.