Renuka Vyavahare

A tragicomedy steeped in survival and inner turmoil, this silent film follows Mahadev (Vijay Sethupathi), a Mumbai chawl dweller striving for a better life for himself and his ailing mother in a cluttered metropolis that, despite its chaos, has a big heart. Elsewhere in the city, celebrated builder Boseman (Arvind Swamy) finds himself grappling with personal and professional setbacks that push him to the brink. Both men are victims of corruption and circumstance. When their paths cross, they are unaware that pain neither absolves privilege nor spares poverty.

Sriram Raghavan, best known as a master of neo-noir crime thrillers, ventures onto unfamiliar terrain with Ikkis, a humane war drama that shuttles between past and present. It is a challenging film to navigate, as Raghavan must balance the portrayal of the gallantry of one of India’s youngest Param Vir Chakra awardees (posthumous) with a more understated theme—the quiet, mutual respect shared by soldiers on opposing sides, bound by a common understanding of the true cost of war and the pain of losing loved ones. Raghavan’s trademark, unpredictable humour crops up in the most unexpected places, adding a delightful edge that works wonders. In Ikkis, patriotism roars, while courage forgives. The emotional core of the film lies in a heart-wrenching face-off staged away from the battlefield. Dharmendra and Jaideep Ahlawat breathe life into the narrative through a sublime, soulful interplay of grief and guilt. Largely functioning as a two-hander, the film is held together by these two formidable performances, which anchor it even when the pace feels inconsistent and storytelling gets stagnant in portions.

Picking up from Avatar: The Way of Water, Avatar: Fire and Ash, the third installment in James Cameron’s epic saga, follows Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña), and their children as they battle not only the returning human colonisers but also a formidable new threat — Varang (Oona Chaplin), the ruthless leader of the fiery Mangkwan clan. Matters escalate when Varang forms an alliance with the humans, setting the stage for yet another war on Pandora.

A fictional narrative inspired by true incidents, Aditya Dhar’s action drama follows Hamza (Ranveer Singh), a mysterious Indian agent who embeds himself deep within Karachi’s mafia network (Lyari gangwar) to dismantle terror operations from the inside. Structured across multiple chapters, the world-building is deliberate and immersive, pulling you into a gritty, violent universe that unfolds over nearly 3.5 hours. Yet, the runtime rarely feels overbearing thanks to Dhar’s stylish, tight storytelling.

Director Razneesh “Razy” Ghai revisits a painful yet remarkable chapter of Indian military history that has rarely been explored on screen. Barring Chetan Anand’s Haqeeqat (1964), with its unforgettable anthem “Kar Chale Hum Fida”, Bollywood has curiously stayed away from this story. These unsung heroes deserved a film dedicated solely to them — and Ghai, to his credit, remains committed to that intent.

The Smashing Machine subverts the typical sports film formula, delivering a raw, intimate portrayal of survival, addiction, and self-acceptance. Rather than glorifying the triumph of the human spirit, the film dares to explore the darker aftermath of defeat — the self-doubt, the self-loathing, and the slow, painful unraveling of a once-great champion. Benny Safdie’s docudrama, based on the true story of MMA fighter Mark Kerr, begins scattered and subdued. The first half drifts through Kerr’s daily life with an almost aimless, indie-film energy that feels too loose, even frustrating at times.

In a north Indian state, best friends Chandan Kumar (Vishal Jethwa) and Mohammed Shoaib (Ishaan Khatter) see the police uniform as their only escape and a shield against the caste and religion-based bigotry they face frequently. To them, the uniform symbolizes respect, access, and a rightful place at the table. Though painfully aware of the ingrained societal hierarchy, it’s their youthful zest for life, hope for a better tomorrow, and unbreakable bond that keep them going. Their persistence and optimism are tested time and again, but things reach a breaking point when a nationwide lockdown due to Covid-19 separates them from their families and the place they call home.

Not-so-sharp but daringly self-aware, The Ba***ds of Bollywood* (short for Bastards of Bollywood) is less of a scathing satire and more of an edgy, meta love letter to the film industry. At its heart, it’s a forbidden love story between an outsider and a nepo kid, building towards an unhinged, glorious climax that fully justifies the show’s title. It may just be one of the boldest creative swings Bollywood has seen in recent memory. The seven-part series follows Aasmaan, a promising newcomer whose debut hit doesn’t guarantee an easy ride. He’s soon entangled in the murky politics of the industry—dodging shady contracts, tiptoeing around egoistic producers, managing superstar tantrums, tackling pesky paparazzi, and fending off competition from privileged insiders. Things only get more complicated when he grows close to his co-star, Karishma Talvar (Sahher Bambba), daughter of megastar Ajay Talvar (Bobby Deol). Ajay has his eyes set on a bigger launchpad for Karishma—preferably opposite someone like Ranveer Singh and not some rising outsider. When Aasmaan refuses to play by the industry’s unspoken rules, things spiral fast.