Saibal Chatterjee

Flip, frivolous and not as much fun as it aspires to be: that about sums up the first half of Tu Meri Main Tera Main Tera Tu Meri. If you get through that phase of the film without switching off, the rom-com, post-intermission, stumbles with intent into family drama territory. The turnaround is as striking as it is surprising. The emotional core that Tu Meri Main Tera Main Tera Tu Meri finds in the second half pushes the narrative out of a monotonous loop and towards a radical new direction. But that is not to say that everything that the film attempts, lands.

In his sophomore venture, Daayam (Inheritance), Prasanth Vijay tiptoes gently and noiselessly into the inner world of a girl dealing with the premature death of her mother. The result is a subtle, mellow study of bereavement and its upshots. The independent Malayalam-language film makes a sharp departure from the conventions of the coming-of-age genre. It uses the muted and delicate narrative approach of the kind that marked the director’s critically acclaimed 2017 debut, The Summer of Miracles.

Life stands still and yet flows inexorably in Alaav – Hearth and Home, written and directed by Prabhash Chandra. The uncompromisingly austere film approximates the restrained tempo of existence when old age takes its toll on both the giver and recipient of geriatric care. With its meticulously composed frames and strikingly unhurried rhythm, Alaav delineates the weight of ageing and its repercussions on a 95-year-old woman and her sexagenarian son sheltered in a well-appointed Delhi home.

Director Aanand L Rai’s new film poses an old question: can love douse the flames that violence sparks? Its search for an answer takes it nowhere in particular. But inevitably for a film dedicated to “Mahadev and his Ganga”, Tere Ishk Mein makes a brief stopover in the holy city of Benaras, where a priest-philosopher (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub in a special appearance) holds forth on love, death and salvation.

Shorn of jingoism, free of gratuitous frills and delivered with fitting deference to the memory of the Indian soldiers (many of them unsung) who laid down their young lives in the battle of Rezang La in 1962, 120 Bahadur is a Bollywood war movie of a refreshingly different timbre. Directed by Razneesh “Razy” Ghai and written by Rajiv G. Menon with dialogues by Sunit Arora, 120 Bahadur strikes a balance between emotion and action in its fictionalisation of a military face-off that took a heavy toll of lives but helped India stop China from marching into Ladakh.

Given the high benchmark it has to reckon with, Delhi Crime Season 3 has its task cut out. It does all it can to measure up but falls just a tad, (yes, just a tad!), short of replicating the powerful wallop that the first two seasons packed. The thrilling and disquieting true-crime drama is not the sort of gut punch that would send one reeling, nor is the nature of the violence that it depicts as terrifyingly severe as it was the last time around. Much of the brutality on show - the victims are teenage girls captured by a gang of vicious traffickers - is either only suggested or palpably curbed rather than shown in graphic detail.

Until two prolonged and pointed courtroom soliloquies are staged in quick succession late in the film – one is delivered by Emraan Hashmi, the other by Yami Gautam Dhar, with both actors acquitting themselves to perfection – Haq opts for sustained restraint even in its most dramatic passages. It is this temperance that defines the film. It is rare for a Bollywood film these days not to froth at the mouth when talking about India’s principal minority community and summarily stereotyping it. Directed by Suparn S. Varma and written by Reshu Nath, Haq tackles an emotive and sensitive topic. It could easily have gone overboard. That it does not is the film’s greatest strength.

Notwithstanding the title, The Taj Story does not have much of a story to tell. What it does peddle by way of a narrative has not only been done to death over the decades but has also been debunked in several courts of the land, including the apex one. The writer of the film is constrained to admit as much in a series of title cards before the end-credits begin to roll. The Taj Story is bargain-basement filmmaking that draws inspiration from unsubstantiated history to create a piece of cinema that expects full-on explosions from dud-bombs. It wends its way through prickly territory only to end up without a case strong enough to make itself essential viewing for those who care for the truth.