Nonika Singh

For the longest time, Dharma Productions has been known for reminding us how rich lives matter. Time and again, it has taken viewers not only on a voyeuristic ride into the extravagant lifestyles of the uber rich, but also offered a deep dive into their ‘struggles’, often evoking a fair degree of empathy, even relatability. ‘Nadaaniyan’ is one more such film where the poor rich girl syndrome manifests itself. Pia (Khushi Kapoor) is the daughter of ultra-rich parents (Suniel Shetty and Mahima Chaudhry), studying in an ‘ultra-elite school’ where students seem to be doing anything but study. She, ‘the poster princess of privilege and entitlement’, has her fair share of dilemmas, including her parents’ failing marriage.

Ever since ‘Aashram’ dropped in 2020, both the director, Prakash Jha, and Bobby Deol, who plays the devious Baba Nirala, captured our imagination. Indeed, the perils of a successful show are that it often gets extended into many seasons, elongated and stretched way beyond the story actually calls for or deserves. Thus, the powerful and impactful show about the nexus between fake gurus, politics and power did get diluted in between as it offered more of the same in the intervening seasons. But, as ‘Season 3 Part Two’ drops, our worst fears that it will continue to go round in circles are given a slight reprieve. Sure enough, his victim, Pammi (Aaditi Pohankar), who is on the run, manages to nail the Baba. But before you can even heave a sigh of relief, he and Bhupa (Chandan Roy Sanyal), his irascible deputy, once again outwit her and have her jailed instead.

Nothing is more heartwarming than aspirational stories of underdogs. Only, Reema Kagti’s cinematic recreation of small-town filmmaker Nasir Shaikh’s life is more than just a tale of a man dreaming the unthinkable, and realising it. As she takes us to Malegaon and right into the heart and soul of these dreamers, it is at one level an ode to friendship, at another about the magic of filmmaking. More importantly, it reimagines how dreams can take flight, not on the wings of hardcore ambition but an emotion far more beautiful and deeper than that. Though an extended disclaimer does not vouch for the complete veracity of the story, the fact that Nasir is very much alive and part of making of the film as well as the promotions implies that the story is rooted in his reality. Yes, there is a possibility that the narrative could have been buttressed to make his story look even better than what it actually might be. Nevertheless, at no point does it sound exaggerated or artificial. Consistently, it remains an interesting and inspirational tale of Nasir (Adarsh Gourav), who runs a video parlour, and intercuts pirated videos of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee to create some original mishmash. A police raid sets him on the path of ‘original’ filmmaking.

The fine line between journalism and sensationalism is fast becoming wafer-thin. Even those not privy to the world of journalism are aware of the falsehoods the media propagates in search of truth. So, what can the showrunner of ‘Crime Beat’, Sudhir Mishra, tell us what we already don’t know, or go beyond what Hansal Mehta’s ‘Scoop’ or ‘The Broken News’ offered? ‘Crime Beat’, like Mehta’s ‘Scoop’, is very much an insider account of investigative journalism. Based on the novel ‘The Price You Pay’ by Somnath Batabyal, who spent a decade covering crime, it takes us into the heart of news gatherers. Set in 2011 in New Delhi, a journalist, Abhishek Sinha (Saqib Saleem), in pursuit of page one stories even recreates the drama for a story. Of course, before we meet the protagonist of the series, we are introduced to Binny Chaudhry (Rahul Bhat). Hailed as a messiah, he is on the verge of surrendering to the police but before we get to know who he is, he is shot dead.

For the uninitiated, the glory of the Maratha kingdom ends with the great warrior Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. That his son, Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, was an equally valiant, fearless and fierce ruler is a fact we are not fully privy to. Thus, on this count alone, ‘Chhaava’, which chronicles the life and death of Sambhaji, is worthy of celluloid attention. After a brief historical introduction in the voice of Ajay Devgn, the film comes straight to the point. Mughal emperor Aurangzeb and his courtiers are celebrating the death of Shivaji. The Maratha kingdom is now well within their grasp. Only they have not factored in the might of Shivaji’s son. Vicky Kaushal as Sambhaji soon appears with his army and his valour is on full display as he vanquishes his enemy in Burhanpur, a domain of Aurangzeb. Clearly, the emperor is enraged and vows to wear his crown only when he hears Sambhaji scream in pain. Can the Marathas defeat the might of the Mughal army? We all know the answer to this question. The point now is how well the director, Laxman Utekar, can take us through it. Until the intermission, the narrative moves at a fast pace. The period setting is right, with grandeur befitting the 17th century in which it is set. Sambhaji is not all brawn, but heart too. Other characters include a maternal uncle, Sarsenapati Hambirao (Ashutosh Rana), a loving and fawning wife Maharani Yesubai (Rashmika Mandanna), and a Rajput braveheart who is a poet too (Vineet Kumar Singh). But the problem is that whenever a Bollywood film is in service of one character, historical or otherwise, it goes overboard in eulogising its hero. Even if well deserved as in the case of Sambhaji, it keeps drumming the fact time and again. The net result is that not only are the other characters sidelined, the hero even when played by an actor of immense calibre like Vicky Kaushal does not get time to truly breathe. One of the early dialogues is, “Hum shikaar karte hain shor nahin”. Yet, the film is loud, with a louder background score (imagine, by none other than AR Rahman).

‘The child is father of the man…’ Whatever William Wordsworth may have meant by that poetic expression, sons and fathers are as inextricably linked as a mother’s umbilical connection binds her to her children. Yet, fathers and sons are always on a tricky terrain, invariably perched on delicate ground, rarely common. “Is he an adult or a child?” — the question pops up from a perplexed son finding it difficult to get a grasp of his father’s whimsical ways. “He is your father, you are the child,” comes the honest reply from his girlfriend. Boman Irani, who has proved his mettle as an actor more than once, now comes with his directorial debut, ‘The Mehta Boys’, where he brings out the tensions immanent in a father-son relationship in the same nuanced manner which has marked his acting. After winning the Best Feature Film award at the Chicago South Asian Film Festival, the film is currently streaming on Prime Video, and is as much about the father-son conflict as it is about love and affection.

Paradise… is that even a place in this world? As the series by the same name takes you into its labyrinths, you actually realise it isn’t the same earth we are living in right now. Yet, it opens like a regular murder mystery. US President Cal Bradford (James Marsden) has been brutally killed in his own house. Like us, you could end up wondering; why isn’t he living in the White House? Well, well, the mystery begins to deepen at many levels. As Special Agent Xavier Collins discovers his body in the sprawling mansion, things begin to unpeel like layers of onion.

When the lead hero, Shahid Kapoor, talks of the relevance of ‘Deewar’, should we pay attention to the subtext? Indeed, ‘Deva’, like many of Amitabh Bachchan’s films as the angry young man, is about a man seething and bristling from within. His fractured relationship with his father (not seen in the film though) too is an important leitmotif. Clearly, the ‘Deewar’ connect is not restricted to Bachchan’s huge cutout alone. But before we touch base with Deva’s vulnerabilities, Shahid Kapoor in the titular part emerges as a heroic figure. He bashes before he speaks, smokes like a chimney, drinks while on duty; in short, he is the quintessential bad good guy. The Kabir Singh syndrome manifests and persists in this police avatar.