Renuka Vyavahare

Primetime is based on the controversial mid-2000s true-crime series To Catch a Predator, hosted by American broadcast journalist Chris Hansen (Robert Pattinson). The psychological thriller follows Hansen and his production team as they conduct sting operations to expose suspected paedophiles who engage in online chats with minors. The team recruits adult volunteers posing as 13-year-olds to lure potential predators into meeting them. Once they arrive, they are ambushed on camera by Chris before being arrested by the police. The show was widely celebrated for its intent of exposing sexual predators but its methods often walked a murky ethical line. That moral ambiguity forms the heart of Primetime. Director Lance Oppenheim examines the credibility, ethics and moral corrosion of vigilante justice when packaged as entertainment. What begins as an ostensibly noble mission gradually becomes a spectacle, where humiliation, outrage and ratings feed off one another. The film also traces the systematic erosion of conscience among those involved, culminating in the suicide of one of the accused.

Shyamili Das aka Shy (Aarushi Bajaj) is perpetually angry and ashamed of not being rich. She resents her parents for happily accepting their middle-class fate and believes she deserves pretty privilege. Confident that her wealthy boyfriend Mayank (Piyush Khati) is her ticket to a better life, she is thrown when he dumps her, forcing her to rethink her carefully mapped-out future. Set in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Sreeti Mukerji’s formulaic romcom wears the persona of the Hollywood campus capers of that era, albeit with a desi twist. But unlike the usual underdog stories, you don’t necessarily root for the not-so-likeable central character here. Instead, it’s her nicer rich friends, feminist archrival and quintessential girl’s girl Tara (Bianca Arora), cute love interests and warm parents who win you over.

A police encounter involving four accused in a young girl’s gang-rape and murder case evokes sharply divided reactions. The public celebrates it as rightful justice and closure, while the SIT (Special Investigation Team), led by DCP Ajooni Kohli (Kareena Kapoor Khan), suspects that the encounter was a planned shootout orchestrated by DCP Raman Kumar (Prithviraj Sukumaran) and his team. So, what really happened and who is right? What happens when a person who is done waiting clashes with someone who keeps asking: why can’t people wait anymore? At the heart of Meghna Gulzar’s Daayra is this unsettling question, has our growing impatience, anger and obsession with urgency diminished our ability to think clearly? And when the machinery of justice moves too slowly, do ethics and morality become obstacles to efficiency? After all, life may not always be about following rules but about doing what we believe is right.

After the death of a retired judge (Boman Irani), his loyal aide, visually impaired maintenance worker Shyam Rane (Saif Ali Khan), senses foul play. Without actually seeing him, he detects the presence of a killer, Parshuram (Akshay Kumar), in the room. Can Shyam track down the murderer, who is himself on the prowl? Driven by rage and revenge, Parshuram stalks Shyam like a shadow as he attempts to get to the judge’s daughter. He has scores to settle with her father and will stop at nothing. Can Shyam save her from the clutches of this haiwaan? A Hindi remake of Priyadarshan’s own Malayalam thriller Oppam (2016), the film makes you wonder why the director felt the need to revisit the story, especially when the material feels this dramatically thin. Devoid of a compelling mystery or sustained tension, the narrative quickly turns flat and monotonous. The writing fails to create intriguing characters or situations that keep you invested, let alone on the edge of your seat.

Based on Aravind Adiga’s bestselling novel and adapted for the screen by Sooni Taraporevala, Ben Rekhi’s poignant drama centres on Masterji (Manoj Bajpayee), the lone resident of an ageing Mumbai housing society who resists redevelopment, determined to preserve the home and community he holds dear. His refusal to bow to the demands of his fellow residents and the builder (Boman Irani) soon makes him a thorn in their side. Ironically, his fight to save their community leaves him increasingly lonely and isolated. Viewed as someone depriving them of a better life, the people he once considered friends ostracise him, dismissing his principles as outdated. In a world where everyone is racing to own bigger homes and lead more luxurious lives, our threshold for tolerance, empathy and togetherness has drastically diminished. We crave privacy and space while secretly watching those viral AI videos of families travelling together in cozy vans. We have time to argue with strangers on social media, but barely bother to know our next-door neighbours. The safety net and community culture of Mumbai’s chawls and old buildings are fast disappearing, and Masterji finds himself fighting a losing battle to preserve a way of life that is slowly becoming extinct.

Bani (Taapsee Pannu) and her husband Gokul (Ishwak Singh) are shell-shocked when their five-year-old daughter Mishty is abducted in broad daylight from Joypurra, a fictitious town in West Bengal. Consumed by guilt over her perceived negligence, Bani joins Gokul in a desperate search for their daughter, which eventually leads them to a child-trafficking racket. Things take a dramatic turn when Bani loses her eyesight. Can she still find her daughter and bring her back? With its Bengali backdrop, missing-person mystery, woman-on-a-mission narrative, revenge angle and vulnerable protagonist, Gandhari seems designed as a spiritual successor to Sujoy Ghosh’s terrific Kahaani (2012). But while Kahaani drew its power from atmosphere, restraint and a riveting central performance, Gandhari keeps reaching for bigger and louder moments without earning them. Vidya Balan’s performance in Kahaani immersed you in the world of an unsuspecting woman driven by fear, grief and determination. Taapsee Pannu, meanwhile, is pulled in too many directions here. The film turns her into a full-fledged theatrical action hero, complete with elaborate fight sequences, but in doing so, it loses sight of the actor and the emotional complexity she can bring to a character.

David Robert Mitchell’s Amblin-esque sci-fi survival thriller is a heartwarming, terrifying and thoroughly entertaining ode to Steven Spielberg and the magic of the ’80s. A frightening, unnatural event disrupts the slow, idyllic life of the Platt family. Without warning, their quiet suburban neighbourhood transforms into a dense forest inhabited by an army of deadly dinosaurs. Has time shifted their reality? And can they survive this bizarre catastrophe? Kids riding bikes, childhood spent outdoors with friends and neighbours instead of glued to gadgets, lazy afternoons on rooftops with books, families dining together and children believing they are safe as long as their parents are around — The End of Oak Street is a resounding ode to simpler times and the unconditional love of family. Its world is idyllic, dreamy and deliberately nostalgic.

Despite the resemblance in title, Ohh My Dog isn’t a sequel to the OMG franchise, even though Amit Rai also directed OMG 2, starring Pankaj Tripathi. This is a standalone film that celebrates the bond between humans and dogs, championing compassion and kindness towards voiceless beings as the truest form of religion. Metaphorically, it even presents dogs as a manifestation of God—selfless protectors who love unconditionally. Amit Rai’s son Maahi and the family’s indie pet dog Oscar play the sharp-witted Apu and Momo, two inseparable siblings living a happy life in Assam until Momo is kidnapped. Convinced that dog meat smugglers are behind the disappearance, Apu sets out to uncover the truth while the authorities remain largely indifferent. Meanwhile, in Bhopal, Prince, an underage labourer, shares an unlikely bond with a stray dog named Bruno. When Prince goes missing, Bruno becomes the film’s true hero, relentlessly searching for his companion, convinced that something sinister has happened.