Saibal Chatterjee

Two early scenes in Despatch provide a foretaste of the complexities that are about to assail the life of crime reporter Joy Bag (Manoj Bajpayee). In the first, he returns home from a long day at work to find wife Shweta (Shahana Goswami) merrily partying with friends. One of the guests, drunk to the gills, tries to forcibly feed him a pizza. Joy snaps and storms out of the house.

The Siddis, a community unrepresented in Indian cinema, is under the spotlight in Rhythm of Dammam, an exceptionally evocative, visually arresting film written and directed by Kerala-born, New York-based Jayan Cherian. The film premiered this week at the 55th International Film Festival of India in Goa. It is now headed to the International Competition line-up of the upcoming 29th International Film Festival of Kerala.

Think up a character. Name him Sikandar. He may or may not master of his destiny. Pit the clean-cut guy against a dogged lawman determined to control the man’s muqaddar. Lo and behold, you have a handy title that harks back to a 1978 Amitabh Bachchan megahit with which this Netflix film has nothing to do.

The intimation of death signals the beginning of a new life in the here and now for Arjun Sen, the voluble and showy adman-protagonist of Shoojit Sircar’s I Want to Talk. It inevitably causes confusion and agony but strengthens his resolve to fight while altering his perspective on existence and mortality. Written by Ritesh Shah and based on a real-life Indian-American professional, Arjun produces adverts to encourage people to buy products they might or might not need. His joys rest on the sterling success he has in pulling off his acts of persuasion.

A brisk opening that holds some promise, a meandering middle that scuttles much of the early potential, and an overly rushed climax make Greedy People a mixed bag – an action comedy that never kicks into top gear despite all the scampering that it does in search of a sweep spot. Greedy People, premiering in India exclusively on Lionsgate Play and available in English and Hindi, is frequently enlivened by dashes of deadpan humour. With Joseph Gordon-Levitt imparting immense charm and chutzpah to his flamboyant cop and punchlines flying thick and fast between him and his partner in ‘crime’, the film has its share of passably bright moments.

In an industry overwhelmingly dominated by men, Nayanthara is a rarity. A “lady superstar” who earned her spurs the hard way and went on to upend many an established showbiz norm, she has over the years fronted numerous big South Indian films that have ridden on her crowd-pulling prowess. This self-produced Netflix documentary seeks to capture the rise and rise of Nayanthara in the face of several reverses. It isn’t an objective account but, notwithstanding the limitations of its format, Nayanthara: Beyond The Fairy Tale is entertaining and insightful.

Its ambition is sky-high. Kanguva seeks to derive power from the elements (wind, water and fire), the ambitious merger of two timelines separated by a millennium, and the immense magnetism of lead actor Suriya. Nothing wrong with that of course, but the building blocks would have come together far more effectively had the writing and treatment been more organised and coherent.

In Freedom of Midnight, showrunner and director Nikkhil Advani, working with a script by a team of six writers, blends solid historicity with elements of fiction and imagination to bring to the screen the agonizing final leg of India’s freedom struggle. The SonyLIV drama series produced by Emmay Entertainment and StudioNext, is crafted with utmost diligence. It blends grandeur with intimacy, swept with precision, sustained gravitas with an acute awareness of the timeless contemporaneity of political decisions of far-reaching consequences made in an era of great upheavals by the architects of a free nation forged in fire.