Bharathi Pradhan

It takes off on a merry note. There’s a request made to the audience (in Aamir Khan’s voice) about mobile phones: do not exchange yours with anybody else. It sets the tone for freshness. Spanking new content, young first-timers in the lead, parental scoldings you haven’t heard before and sometimes, chaotic humour. These are the four elements that make writer-director Advait Chandan’s conventionally labelled ‘romantic comedy’ unconventional. It’s new age all through. Buying a new phone, payment by phone. Constant chats. They know each other’s friends, families and house layout even before stepping into each other’s domains. “Baani boo, I can’t hear you.” “Gucci, awaaz nahi aa rahi hai.” Lovebirds Baani Sharma (Khushi Kapoor) and Gaurav Sachdeva (Junaid Khan) can’t hear each other clearly, he climbing the water tank to get a connection, she raising her voice at home.

Boman Irani just enriched his resume, adding to his impressive repertoire of performances, a sterling debut as writer-director. Strained father-son relationships have consistently provided fodder to Hindi cinema. From the Dilip Kumar-Amitabh Bachchan cop-son drama of Ramesh Sippy’s Shakti to the violently successful Anil Kapoor-Ranbir stand-off in Animal, the stress comes in different forms. Boman Irani’s contribution to this troubled bond birthed at home, is hot chocolate comforting. The loss of his wife of many years spells emotional upheaval on multiple fronts for retired typing school owner and teacher Shiv Mehta (Boman Irani). He has to respect the pact he’d made with his wife that the partner who outlives the other would move to America to stay with daughter Anu (Puja Sarup). It’s a wrench for him to bid goodbye to their home in Navsari, Gujarat. To the memorabilia and to memories, his gully cricket with little boys, his Gavaskar-signed bat, his manual typewriter.

There’s an instruction from Deputy Commissioner of Police Farhan Khan (Pravesh Rana) to junior Dev Ambre (Shahid Kapoor) that goes, “Get answers to three questions: who, how and why.” He is referring to the assassination of ACP Rohan D’silva (Paval Gulati) who was shot dead on an open ground at a Mumbai Police event where he was receiving a gallantry award. The viewer feels like asking the same three questions. Who made this film? A director from Malayalam cinema called Rosshan Andrrews, making his Hindi debut with a remake of his own 2013 film Mumbai Police.

To pick one from the ultimate storyteller’s repertoire requires a special talent. Writer- director Ananth Narayan Mahadevan has done just that–he has unerringly chosen a subject that blends two cultures (Bengali, Gujarati), poking fun at neither but having fun all the same. It’s not just about retired storyteller Tarini Bandopadhyay (Paresh Rawal) feeling the fish and bargaining before buying it in Calcutta or the strict vegetarian dhokla-thepla that he says is “delectable” to his wealthy host Ratan Garodia (Adil Hussain) in Ahmedabad while muttering, “disgusting” over the phone to fellow Bengalis. There’s a good-natured swipe at capitalism and socialism too. To this, add unpreached undercurrents like the need to evaluate your self-worth with confidence along with some intrigue on where this is going, and you get Satyajit Ray’s short story Golpo Boliye Tarini Khuro.

Have you spared a minute to check if your bank balance has an insignificant discrepancy? Would you invest precious time and energy to make the bank accountable for Rs 27.50? It’s precisely this common customer lethargy that makes suave and merry Micky Mehta (Neil Nitin Mukesh) make dizzy sums like Rs 20,000 crore. Small amounts that don’t tally, interest credited just a day later, inconsequential figures that account holders ignore. Micky preys on just this customer ignorance to live life like a party. But there’s always one aam insaan whose brain works like a calculator. Senior Ticket Collector Radhe Mohan Sharma (R Madhavan) arrives laden with oranges that he generously shares with passengers. “I don’t touch stolen goods,” huffs passenger P Subhash (Kirti Kulhari). His enthusiastic reply about taking oranges to balance what the fruit seller owed him as change, delightfully introduces Radhe’s quirk. Debits and credits must tally. He’d once rejected a marriage proposal too because the girl was weak in Maths.

There is honour among enemies – sometimes. When the Indian Air Force captures decorated Pakistani officer Wing Commander Hussain Ahmed (Sharad Kelkar) in the 1971 war, Wing Commander Om Ahuja (Akshay Kumar) interrogates him. And learns that Ahmed got his gallantry award for shooting down an Indian aircraft in the Sargodha attack in 1965. But the Pak officer won’t reveal anything more. After the ceasefire, Ahmed is sent back to Pakistan. India has acted honorably with a PoW. The downing of the Indian aircraft in Sargodha opens unhealed old wounds.

At the end of nearly two-and-a-half hours, you want to ask director Abhishek Kapoor and his writing team that includes Ritesh Shah and Suresh Nair, just one question. What was the story you ventured to tell? Was it about a magnificent, Chetak-like horse that could give its life to his master? If yes, then the most-loved animal film remains Rajesh Khanna and Chinnappa Devar’s Haathi Mere Saathi (1971) where entire families had a jumbo-size crush on Ramu, the hero’s pet elephant. But Abhishek and company treat Azaad like a backdrop, never letting the viewer warm up to the animal who is shown throwing off, neighing noisily and kicking the hero, most of the time. Oh, yes, he also likes liquor and breaks wind loudly (humour alert).

It is a misleading title. When it takes off with little Indira in her grandfather’s house at Anand Bhavan in 1929 where her early dislike for aunt Vijayalakshmi Pandit is established, and it tracks her until the day she was assassinated in 1984, it’s not just about the biggest mistake of her political life. What writer-director Kangana Ranaut has made is a full-fledged, political bio-documentary, detailing the defining moments of Indira Gandhi’s public life, before and after the Emergency that she infamously clamped on the country in 1975. In seeking to understand the person behind the Emergency, Ranaut and her writers Tanvi Kesari Pasumarthy, Ritesh Shah and Jayant Sinha, bring to the fore the vulnerabilities of the PM with the iron facade.