Renuka Vyavahare

Superhero fatigue has been setting in for quite some time now, with both Marvel and DC struggling to find the right footing. In the race for bigger spectacles, sprawling multiverses, time travel, and interconnected sagas, many superhero films traded genuine emotion and character for sheer scale and experimentation. Audiences, understandably, began to lose interest. James Gunn rebooted the DC Universe with Superman (2025), introducing the dimpled David Corenswet as the new Man of Steel. While the film dazzled with its scale and visual ambition, it often felt emotionally scattered and underwhelming. What lingered long after the credits, however, were the brief but memorable glimpses of Milly Alcock’s carefree, rebellious Supergirl.

An atmospheric and deeply unsettling crime drama, Raakh draws inspiration from one of India’s most chilling criminal cases, the infamous Ranga-Billa case (1978) that shook the nation and forever altered the way people viewed safety in the capital. Most crimes are tragically remembered for the notorious criminals who commit them, while the victims are often forgotten with time. In a sea of cop dramas, Raakh urges you to look beyond the investigation and examine the origin, aftermath, and far-reaching consequences of a brutal crime on society at large. The lingering trauma of grieving parents seeking accountability and justice after losing their children makes for an emotionally difficult watch. Trial by Fire, led by Rajshri Deshpande and Abhay Deol, explored similar emotional devastation effectively. Raakh serves as a reminder of humanity at its worst, and how such horrors force ordinary people to live with endless guilt — what if I had done something differently? Yet the real sickness lies with the criminal mind to begin with.

Cyber-security specialist Daniel Kellner (Josh O’Connor) and meteorologist Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt) race against time to reveal a truth that has been hidden from humanity for nearly 80 years. Standing in their way is Wardex, a powerful corporate entity determined to keep the secret buried at any cost. But what is this earth-shattering revelation about extraterrestrials—one capable of changing the world order, toppling governments, and forcing people to question God, religion, and even their own existence? One of the greatest filmmakers of all time, Steven Spielberg carries the burden of expectations few directors can match. His name alone demands excellence, often making even his good films seem underwhelming when they fall short of the lofty standards associated with his legacy. Disclosure Day is not a commercial crowd-pleaser but a deeply personal work, with Spielberg steering away from conventional genre tropes to follow his own instincts. He trades spectacle for existential wonder, prioritizing ideas over immediate gratification and inviting audiences to engage with his vision on its own terms, unconcerned with delivering a rewarding climax.

Samar Mehra (Bobby Deol), a washed-out actor in his 50s, makes a living performing his lone hit song at weddings. Struggling financially and clinging to faded fame, his world comes crashing down when he is arrested on rape charges. The complainant is Gayatri (Sapna Pabbi), a woman he once hooked up with through a dating app. Samar insists he is the real victim, claiming Gayatri is a psychotic stalker seeking revenge after he ghosted and blocked her. The police counter his version by reading out their explicit text exchanges and inform him that he is accused not only of rape, but also extortion and blackmail. Soon, Samar finds himself trapped in judicial custody, with his bail hearing repeatedly delayed and eventually denied owing to the gravity of the allegations. The prison is overcrowded, filthy and hostile, with sexually frustrated rival camps eyeing the “hero” as easy prey. It takes Samar time to realise that this is not a temporary nightmare, he is in for a long and brutal ordeal. Co-directed by Anurag Kashyap, Sakshi Mehta and co-written by Sudip Sharma and Abhishek Banerjee, the story appears loosely inspired by the much-publicised case of a television actor-singer accused of rape in 2019.

Set in the conservative north Indian Adarsh Colony, single and glamorous mother Rekha (Madhuri Dixit) makes a hysterical late-night phone call to her daughters, Jaya (Triptii Dimri) and Sushma (Dharna Durga), summoning them home after discovering the dead body of her nosy neighbour, Guptaji (Ravi Kishan), inside her house. Review: As the estranged and constantly bickering sisters reluctantly reunite with their seemingly reckless mother, the chaotic trio scrambles to figure out how to manage the crime scene. But there’s a twist lurking around the corner that none of them see coming. Director Suresh Triveni (Jalsa, Tumhari Sulu) uses humour layered with tragedy to hold up a mirror to a society that views women simply existing on their own with suspicion. The resemblance to actress Rekha and the long-standing gossip surrounding her personal life and marital status inevitably come to mind. How can women thrive without being subject to the watchful gaze of men? Society’s inability to process that question forms the heart of this sharply written story by Triveni and Pooja Tolani.

Shape of Momo is a poignant semi-autobiographical drama set in the hills of Sikkim that quietly examines patriarchy, migration, and the painful process of outgrowing a home you still deeply love. Through a metaphorical title, the film explores how women are constantly “shaped” by societal expectations and inherited conditioning. At its centre is Bishnu, a 32-year-old woman who resists conformity in subtle yet powerful ways. Her quiet rebellion becomes the emotional core of the story. The narrative follows four women across three generations of a male-less household, each negotiating a society that views such a family as vulnerable, unsafe, and incomplete. Bishnu’s mother survives through caution and strategy, her sister embraces the conventional route of marriage and motherhood, while the grandmother clings to pride in her sons — one deceased, the other living abroad in Dubai, forever postponing his promise to take her with him. In the absence of a male figure, the women endure prejudice, threats to their safety, and constant undermining by workers and tenants at their orange orchard. Ironically, the film highlights how society conditions women to believe they need the presence of men for protection often from men themselves.

When a 16-year-old boy goes missing, small-town cop Pawan Malik (Saif Ali Khan) is pulled into an investigation that gradually unravels disturbing truths involving a powerful spiritual leader, child exploitation, and the deeply entrenched caste prejudices within his own family. At its core, the film is an earnest, well acted crime drama that places justice and conscience above blind familial loyalty. Pawan’s inner turmoil as a man torn between duty and love for family has been explored well. The crime drama tackles heavy societal themes like honour killing, casteism, and abuse with sincerity, but the impact is diluted by an overly predictable screenplay. The central twist is easy to foresee, leaving very little room for suspense or genuine intrigue. The narrative is thoughtful, but the execution feels underwhelming. A sharper atmospheric tone and sense of dread would have helped it find its rhythm.

A struggling Mumbai actress, Chitrangada Satarupa as Mouni, and a retired banker in Frankfurt, Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Adnan, form an unlikely connection through a series of video calls over the course of a single day. As their conversations deepen, the lines between performance and reality begin to blur, gradually uncovering buried emotions and unresolved trauma. Director Aditya Kripalani crafts an introspective indie drama driven by two compelling performances. Siddiqui stands out, especially in the emotionally charged climax, while Satarupa brings both intensity and vulnerability to Mouni. The film aims to be a layered character study, exploring empathy, anger, loneliness, and emotional unrest. However, its excessively verbose and self-indulgent writing often weighs down the narrative, making the drama feel repetitive and emotionally static at times. Since much of the story unfolds through extended virtual acting sessions, the film may struggle to connect with mainstream audiences.