Shubhra Gupta

What does an honest, idealistic lawyer, successful enough to own a sea-facing flat in Mumbai, do when faced with the prospect of defending a man charged with the grievous assault of a young woman? The face off between won’t-defend-the-indefensible Arjun Mehra (Sunny Deol) and entitled rich jerk Shauryaman Gaur (Akshaye Khanna) is your standard battle between the good guy vs the bad guy. Left to himself, Arjun wouldn’t touch Shaurya with a bargepole, but here, the writers try and finesse it, by forcing the former into the latter’s corner, by coming up with a you-can’t-be-serious crutch. But we are asked to roll with it, because it is that kind of film; truth being stranger than fiction, and all that.

In 2007, Indra Kumar came up with Dhamaal, in which a whole bunch of characters led by Sanjay Dutt, tumbled and fell into holes full of risible jokes. This was followed by Double Dhamaal and Total Dhamaal, which were more of the same, in terms of crassness. 2007 was a big year for brainless comedy, with Partner, Hey Babyy, Buddha Mar Gaya the big hitters, toplined by Bhool Bhulaiyaa. Inaneness was the name of the game, but the occasional touch of goofiness and entire starry ensembles committing to stupidity, saved these films. How do you top the last two Dhamaals? Dhamaal 4 comes up with a number, because it can’t be bothered with thinking of what comes after double and total: maybe four was better than double double or total total.

Satluj opens with a chilling sequence which sets the tone of the film. It is pitch dark, a jeep full of joshing cops stops, pulls out a few men, their hands tied behind their backs, and shoots them dead. The casual cruelty that colours this shocking scene gives us, in a snapshot, the darkness that had engulfed Punjab in ’95, rolling over from the decades-long battle the state had waged against insurgency. Men, women, even children weren’t spared in this clean-up operation, which became a battle against ordinary citizens, who were rounded up and killed, their gutted bodies dumped in the river to be picked clean by hungry fish. It’s in this atmosphere of dread that Jaswant Singh Khalra (Diljit Dosanjh) steps in, and steps up, first as just a concerned individual asking about a disappearance, going to the local thana for help, receiving nothing but threats, and warnings to stay away. And then, slowly and steadily becoming the fulcrum of the fight against the massive human rights violations happening under the iron-fist of the Punjab police.

Baby Do, sure. Baby Die, okay. But Baby Do Die Do? Can there be a clunkier title? Or is it plain kinky? I went into the theatre wondering what I was in for, and I’m happy to report that fans of desi-style South Korean actioners are in for a treat: Huma Qureshi playing a deaf-mute contract killer comes up with an implacable stare, and a weapon hiding in plain sight, as she goes about decimating her victims one after another, getting support from a solid ensemble. The grey-blue screen, the acid rain, the frequent pull-backs to give us a panoramic view of Mumbai at night, people clawing their way up in chawls and high-rises, and the things they do in the dark when no one’s looking: in this Sion-via-Seoul aesthetic which the film commits to completely, no punches are pulled, and the pace rarely flags.

Finished reading the credit list above? Phew. All right, eyes here, as I tell you more. The intention, from the get go, is clear. Whistle up a massive cast, making the previous editions of the Welcome series seem positively sparse in comparison. Have it led by Akshay Kumar, currently riding his comedy wave. Concoct a plot line where anything goes. Get in a couple of leggy ladies, whose job is to swoon and be silly. And when all else fails, conjure up a CGI gorilla. Not going to bother sharing any other details because there are none. As befits such films, the premise is thinner than a wafer. A richie rich guy wants to make a flop film to pour black money down the drain, leading this bunch into a jungle where reel villains turn out to be real, and mayhem ensues.

Season 2 of this rural-com returns with its low stakes, lo-fi storytelling, in which the TVF mandate– keep it cosy, bro– stays comfortably uppermost. No surprises then that our idealistic doctor stays the course, even as the clashes between the twain– the citified outsider and the set-in-their-ways villagers– continue. Also back in harness are his little unit of compounder, nurse and helpers, the colleague-turning-into-friendly-companion, the rival local quack, and the gaonwalas themselves, slowly if reluctantly, understanding the value of a real ‘daaktar saab’ who can actually save lives.

Some films come carrying so much weight that they become hard to bear. Some films become testaments to their time. The Voice of Hind Rajab is one that does both: it lets us in on the agony of a small child left alone in the back of a car, her family members murdered, calling for help; it also asks us to bear witness. Director Kaouther Ben Hania first heard the clip in which a five-year-old girl is heard sobbing, saying she is afraid of the dark, asking for help. The voice belonged to Hind Rajab who was travelling with her aunts, uncles and cousin in the Gaza strip when the car was strafed by Israeli forces. Everyone in the car is dead, the cousin is grievously injured: we learn that the latter dies too, leaving the terrified Hind hiding as best as she could behind the backseat.

‘Ooh, a threesome?’ ‘Hawww, noooo, just checking’. This could well be a tagline for Cocktail 2, a spiritual sequel of the 2012 original of the same name, which once again gives us a guy and two girls looking for The One. Kunal (Shahid Kapoor) plays a dashing chef whose mere presence makes irate female customers swoon. But he’s perfectly content with the love of his life, Diya (Rashmika Mandana), and the two have settled into post-hangover-burpy-domesticity minus the pheras: shaadi, who needs that, when the two are miya and biwi in all but name? On a holiday in stunning Sicily, a chance encounter with the free-spirited Ally (Kriti Sanon), an old friend of Diya’s, becomes the third side of the triangle. Ally is single, and ever ready to mingle, and following through on a wholly contrived ruse, finds herself alone with Kunal: will the two find more than one chance to stray, and how will that impact our lovey-dovey jodi? Who will be the twosome, and who will walk away, all lonesome?