Priyanka Roy

Izzat. A loaded word that, in most parts of Indian society, sits heavy on women. Women need to dress a certain way, behave in a manner that is deemed fit by men (and also other women) and mingle sparingly with those of the opposite gender, mostly under the cognisance of the family. Men claim to be the upholders of izzat, but their actions — no matter how unlawful, bigoted or discriminatory — don’t seem to tarnish it in any way. This, unfortunately, is the truth of a large demographic of our population, fed as it is with archaic, often illegal notions of caste discrimination and pervasive gender roles. The cock-a-snook attitude that Dhadak 2 throws at these ideas and practices hits hard — “bohot hard”. It is a mere coincidence that Siddhant Chaturvedi, who rose as MC Sher in Zoya Akhtar’s Gully Boy — yet another story of a marginalised talent fighting (or rapping) his way to the top — plays the leading man in this Shazia Iqbal-directed film.

If I downed a tequila shot every time someone uttered ‘sarzameen’ in, well, ‘Sarzameen’, I would be drunk till the time Ibrahim Ali Khan became a good actor. Which, going by how things stand at the moment, is a ’naadaan’ (iyan) thought. To be fair, Ibrahim does show some improvement from his debut a few months ago — which was more of a face-meets-palm moment than a jaw-drops-to-floor experience for we the viewers — but Sarzameen, now streaming on JioHotstar, is such a patience-testing assault-on-the-eardrums kind of film that you end up feeling that Saif Ali Khan’s son — along with principal actors Prithviraj Sukumaran and Kajol (credited as Kajol Devgan here) — is the one who has got the raw end of the stick. Sarzameen — though set in the familiar territory of Kashmir-based insurgency and the tense battle in the valley between the Indian army and state-sponsored terrorism — could have made for a riveting watch, at least given the names involved. Karan Johar’s Dharma Productions is the producer, while Kayoze Irani — actor Boman Irani’s son — makes his directorial debut.

There are true-crime documentaries — and then there is Amy Bradley is Missing. The three-episode watch chronicles a missing person story which is equal parts horrific and heartbreaking, appalling and astounding. Most users on Netflix, where the documentary series is trending in the Top 10 in many countries, have used a standout term to describe it: ‘gobsmacking’. Which is what it exactly is, and then some more. This is a ‘missing person’ case which has lasted 27 years, and with no closure for Amy’s parents and her brother. Still, they have decided to never give up hope, and more importantly, never cease trying. Bringing into focus the ephemeral nature of life and the fact that anything can go south any moment, Amy Bradley is Missing is about a family torn asunder when what was meant to be a fun-filled luxury vacation on a cruise goes completely wrong. On board, with roughly a few thousand other vacationers, was Amy, a vivacious 23-year-old just days away from a new job, along with her parents and younger brother Brad.

Saiyaara is proof that Hindi mainstream cinema hasn’t (yet) forgotten to make a film that tugs at the heart, and more importantly, quietly but firmly makes its place in it. Bringing back old-school romance with a modern vibe, Saiyaara may seem Aashiqui 2-coded in parts, but has enough feel and fire to power its way to blockbuster box office… one which has been missing a raw, real and relatable love story for a while. Directed by Mohit Suri — the man who has earned enough cred in spinning love stories that meld a beating heart and deeply-felt humanity with searing chemistry and chartbuster melody — Saiyaara introduces two new faces as its leads. But in an age where a performance on a Friday rarely makes a career soar or stumble anymore — determined as it is by social media heft, paparazzi pull and networking skills — Ahaan Panday and Aneet Padda prove that they are in it for the long haul. If what they have delivered in their debut film is anything to go by, two new actors with promise and passion, skill and sincerity are born. The stardom that they will invariably achieve after this film will be but a byproduct of the hard work they have put in.

A German film is fast climbing the global charts on Netflix. Brick, a sci-fi thriller that also doubles as a relationship drama, is the latest addition to the puzzle-box/ escape room movie sub-genre, that over the last few decades, has met with middling success. Brick tells the story of a group of tenants who become trapped inside their building when a mysterious, almost alien-like black brick wall ‘grows’ overnight outside their apartments, completely surrounding it. The wall is impenetrable, its strong magnetic energy even managing to make bullets ricochet off it and kill those it has trapped within their four walls. There is no way to escape, and as the minutes tick by, the group finds that the Internet is down, their phones are out and the water supply has run dry (though the electricity, inexplicably, seems to be still working).

Every stereotype involving Bengalis that you have ever heard, seen and read is heaped in and then hammered into Aap Jaisa Koi. A potentially sweet film with a premise that invariably should have left a lingering aftertaste is sacrificed at the altar of poor research and poorer storytelling. What emerges is a hackneyed, almost hastily put together film that wants to be everything — entertaining, message-y, inspirational, thought-provoking — but ends up being nothing. Except for a “kick in your b***s, bro” (that is not me being obscene, but a recurring dialogue in this film). Aap Jaisa Koi, streaming on Netflix, hinges on the idea of a 42-year-old virgin — this one beats Hollywood’s The 40-Year-Old Virgin by 730 days — meeting a woman far beyond his dreams (and reach). The 10-year age gap between Shrirenu Tripathi (R. Madhavan, who, in reality, is 55) and Madhu Bose (Fatima Sana Shaikh, 32 in the film, 33 in life) doesn’t seem to matter to the two of them. Despite being from different backgrounds, their beats — and not just of the piano that she plays or the sitar that he strums — click in an instant. She is a feisty Bengali woman who teaches French and lives in a joint family in North Calcutta. He still shares a modest apartment with his recently single friend (Namit Das rescues what, on paper, must have been a very annoying character) and teaches Sanskrit in a school in Jamshedpur. Shri’s only family comprises his boorish older brother (Manish Chaudhury, forever stereotyped) and neglected sister-in-law (Ayesha Raza Mishra, who helps lift the mediocre film).

In the run-up to its release, Maalik has been promoted as a gangster film with a difference. Gangster film? Yes. With a difference? Not really. The Hindi heartland setting — this time (like all other times) it is Uttar Pradesh — is familiar. So are the players — corrupt politicians, kingmakers, cops without scruples, dime-a-dozen goons….The trajectory of its protagonist-cum-antagonist is, unfortunately, as old (and cold) as the gangster genre itself. With so many seen-there-watched-that elements, Maalik only works in bits and spurts, grounded as it is by a strong, fiery against-type turn from Rajkummar Rao. Rajkummar, with one of his earliest roles being a bit part in Anurag Kashyap’s landmark gangster outing Gangs of Wasseypur, plays a farmer’s son who lets go off the football at his feet and picks up a gun in his hand when his father (played by Rajendra Gupta) is assaulted by a local goon. Driven by the belief: “Maalik paida nahin huye toh kya, bann toh sakte hain”, Deepak soon becomes ‘Maalik’, with director Pulkit not willing to devote any time into tracing how a simple college boy becomes Allahabad’s most dreaded gangster. Despite its long runtime — 152 minutes feels extremely stretched — Maalik doesn’t spare much time or thought for any other details as well, and operates on a superficial level, with the action, though gory and visceral, quickly slipping into repetitive territory.

Anurag Basu’s trademark whimsy and frenzy, music and maelstrom of emotions and equations come together once again in his latest. Metro… In Dino, a spiritual sequel to Basu’s sparkling 2007 relationship drama Life In A… Metro, follows the anthological template of the first film, as well as the filmmaker’s dark comedy caper Ludo, that released five years ago. Unlike Life In A… Metro that drew both its feel and fabric from Mumbai — its incessant rains, its bumper-to-bumper traffic, the connections inadvertently forged and broken on local train rides and the everyday stories of crushed ambitions, lost loves and dreams unrealised — Metro… In Dino doesn’t belong to one ‘metro’. The action shifts between Mumbai and Pune, Kolkata and Bangalore, Delhi and Goa, with the film not being able to ground itself in any city. Each landscape coalesces into the other, with very little to define the film’s backdrop. Physically, Metro… In Dino is all over the place. Which, unfortunately, is an apt descriptor for its structure and storytelling as well.