Saibal Chatterjee

Emotional and behavioural upheavals linked to acts contemplated, mishaps suffered, tragedies faced and choices made or evaded (most of them in the past) threaten to derail an impending wedding in The Drama, a darkly absurdist and discomfiting film written and directed by Norwegian filmmaker Kristoffer Borgli. Starring Zendaya and Robert Pattinson as two deeply in love but massively conflicted individuals, The Drama is imbued with the Nordic spirit of moral inquiry of the kind that characterizes a Ruben Ostlund take on human foibles or a Thomas Vinterberg deep dive into ethical indiscretions that can send people and communities into a tailspin.

Set in the Sunderbans and shot entirely in natural light, or in its absence, Adamya is about a young rebel who will neither be tamed nor be reined in. Akin to a matchstick that aspires to burn like the sun, he is up against the firepower. It may be a losing battle, but he will fight the good fight no matter what.Depending on what one’s political stance is, the ‘unbreakable’ protagonist, Palash, a twenty-something boy on the run after a failed attempt to assassinate a minister, is a dangerous malcontent who must be weeded out at all cost or an inspired renegade worthy of our attention and support. Adamya, which is now in its fourth week in cinema halls in Kolkata, is a hyper-indie film shot by a skeletal crew. It made it to the multiplexes against all odds. That it is holding firm a month on is no mean feat.

Marked by a keen eye for detail, a gentle rhythm and controlled buoyancy, Boong, Manipuri writer-director Lakshmipriya Devi’s remarkably accomplished debut feature, probes a climate of discord and disquiet in the garb of a story of a boy, his mother and her absent husband. The deceptively simple but marvellously evocative and wonderfully well-crafted film views life in a strife-torn region through the prism of a fractured family that hopes against hope of becoming whole again. Boong, produced by Excel Entertainment, is a tale of love, loss, longing, and a tenacious spirit rooted in a child’s innocence and innate ebullience in the face of adversity. The film just won a BAFTA Award in the “children’s and family film” category. But it breaks the confines of the genre with intent.

Three M’s - Muslims, Malayalees and Meat - are what The Kerala Story 2: Goes Beyond tilts at with quixotic gusto. In the process, it goes completely overboard and loses its way. Propaganda demands no major creative acumen. All it calls for is a willingness to flow with the tide and pass off street-corner tittle-tattle as truth. That is all there is to this film. TKS2, heavy-handed and mealy-mouthed, would have been dismissed as the rant of a fevered mind had it not been so vituperative. The overcooked cinematic harangue proves that while it may be easy to profit monetarily from alarmist postulations, agenda-driven filmmaking can sink quickly and completely into inanity when not backed by solid research and rigour.

An insomniac former police officer, “officially dead” for six years, prowls the streets of Mumbai in the still of the night, killing people in cold blood. Kennedy is his assumed name. The reason, like his deadly deeds, is shrouded in mystery. The taciturn, brooding assassin is out there ostensibly to clean up the mess that politicians, industrialists and gangsters have created. But, in reality, he is the Mumbai police commissioner’s secret loose cannon and hatchet man. That apart, the man, played with coiled-up intensity by a beefed-up Rahul Bhat, has his own reason for being the way he is. He has a score to settle with an elusive crime lord responsible for tearing him away from his family.

Nearly eight years after Tumbbad, Rahi Anil Barve is back with a film that may not be as outstanding as his first film, but it is no less original. Top-lined by Jaaved Jaffery, Mayasabha possesses tremendous visual vigour and a distinctive narrative pace and rhythm. It draws much its power from its uncompromising spirit and crackling energy, enhanced significantly by the actors and the unpredictability of the flow of the tale. It is campy. It is artful. It is pure cinematic insouciance.

A spitfire, Rani Mukerji meets her match in Mardaani 3 in the strikingly vivid form of Mallika Prasad, who slips into the garb of the first female antagonist of the franchise with effortless ease. The frequently electrifying on-screen face-offs between them bring the best out of both performers. In the bargain, the film acquires an edge that is infinitely sharper than that of the two previous films in the series. Mardaani 3 isn’t necessarily any different from all the crusading Singham-style cop movies that Bollywood produces, but it stands apart nonetheless, not just from the crowd but also from its two precursors because of the crackle and clarity of the tale.

Mounted on a grand scale but filmed largely in and around real military locations and installations, Border 2 is a longer, brighter, and more ballistic and variegated replica of the original war drama released in 1997. In tone and texture, however, it isn’t the same. The surface sheen of Border 2 reflects the significant distance that Mumbai’s commercial cinema has travelled in terms of filmmaking technique in the 28-year interregnum. It is bolder and louder than Border could ever have been given the times in which it was envisaged and executed.