Priyanka Roy

Pulkit ventures into familiar territory — casteism in the hinterland, corruption in the system and a lone wolf battling it all — in his latest film Kartavya. The filmmaker, who prefers to remain mononymous, has touched upon all the above themes in his much-acclaimed 2024 film Bhakshak, one which had Bhumi Pednekar fighting against all odds as an intrepid journalist in small-town India who takes on the powers-that-be to uncover a girl trafficking racket. Bhakshak, which was clearly based on the Muzaffarpur shelter case, was backed by Shah Rukh Khan’s Red Chillies Entertainment, as is Kartavya. Both are on Netflix.

At some point in the utter nonsense of a film called Pati Patni Aur Woh Do — calling it a comedy would be an insult to the genre — a character tells another: “Bakloli ki pratiyogita ho toh kirtimaan honge aap”. In language that you and I would perhaps understand (and, of course, I had to Google this), it means that when it comes to foolishness or clownery, the person addressed would win a competition hands down. How we wish Pati Patni Aur Woh Do was about clownery, which is an art in itself. But art, craft, skill, storytelling and everything in between is grossly missing in this Mudassar Aziz-directed film which follows the filmmaker’s own Pati Patni Aur Woh, released in 2019, starring Ananya Panday and Bhumi Pednekar, which, in many ways, benefited from Kartik Aaryan’s goofy charm (and we can’t really believe we are writing this).

Unchosen reels you in with its intriguing synopsis and makes you regret the next six hours of your life. This Netflix series — attempting to tell a story about a religious cult thrown into disarray by forces both within and outside of it — starts tepid, grows tiresome and ends tedious. Which is a major missed opportunity for creator Julie Gearey, who wastes a premise that had the potential to score with both familial drama and psychological intrigue, but falls short on both counts. And many more.

Only one name made me tune into Keeper: Osgood Perkins. The filmmaker, who has earned his stripes in horror for over a decade and gave us a terrifyingly unrecognisable Nicolas Cage in the critically-acclaimed Longlegs two years ago, attempts to bring on the chills through his atmospheric thriller Keeper. After a limited release in select theatres, Keeper is now streaming on Prime Video. The film employs a trope as old as the horror genre itself. Spooky events — some real, some imagined… but who can tell? — unfold at a cabin in the woods, but Perkins, surprisingly, is unable to do anything new with it. What we, therefore, have in this 99-minute watch is a film that delivers on its “experimental horror” ambitions, but falls short of its promise of a truly engaging watch.

I have no idea why The Devil Wears Prada 2 has been given an ‘adult’ certification, which translates to the fact that those under 18 can’t watch the film. What it should have come with — without a shade of doubt — is a massive trigger warning for journalists, especially those who still believe in the integrity and impact of the written word. Many will enjoy the sequel — it will be a big summer blockbuster for sure, though it will not have the lasting legacy of the 2006 original — but for many journalists like myself (especially those who in lifestyle and entertainment journalism), The Devil Wears Prada 2 hits too close to the bone. I went in wanting to relax, throw my head back and laugh. I didn’t quite manage to.

If you have watched Charlize Theron in her multiple action avatars on screen (think Furiosa in Mad Max, Andy in The Old Guard, Lorraine in Atomic Blonde, et al), then you wouldn’t think of ever getting on the wrong side of her. Taron Egerton seemingly hasn’t, which is perhaps why we see him as the predator trying to make quick work of Theron as prey in the new Netflix thriller Apex. At least — tongue firmly in cheek — he should have taken a dekko at her serial-killer act in Monster — that won the always edgy South African-born actress an Oscar more than two decades ago.

The first season of Beef was a television drama masterclass. Through the medium of a relatable road rage run-in between two strangers, creator Lee Sung Jin fashioned a dark comedy-drama that, escalating with delicious adamance over 10 immensely watchable episodes, focused on an all-consuming feud that took over the warring protagonist duo’s relationships and careers, even as their unsparing vendetta commented on the fallout of class chasm, suppressed rage and, ultimately, grief and loneliness. As adversaries not willing to let go an inch, Ali Wong and Steven Yeun brought in vindictive anger but also profound emotional healing, with the series brimming with rare originality and startling depth of character.

Part double disaster film, part shark-attack flick, Thrash is a low-stakes thriller whose absurdities prove to be mildly entertaining, but do not a good film make. Perhaps a commendable (or not) thing about Thrash is that it doesn’t aspire to be one, content to keep its place among the category of low-brow films that are mostly made to fit into algorithmic programming strategy. There is no promise of high art here, but there is also no pretence.