Shubhra Gupta

A Satyajit Ray short story becomes the basis of ‘The Storyteller’, an unhurried unspooling of an unlikely relationship between two men, separated by geographies, backgrounds, and, most crucially, intent. The result is a film which takes its time to lay out its wares, demanding your patience, which does get a trifle stretched, but overall rewards you for it. Tarini Bandhopadhyaya (Paresh Rawal) is a 60-something Bengali gent who loves fish and hates capitalism with equal passion. Ratan Garodia (Adil Hussain) is a Gujarati businessman who has everything except the comfort of sleep.

A bunch of cops in Mumbai track down the killer of a fellow officer, opening up several cans of worms. That, more or less, was the thrust of the Roshhan Andrrews-directed Mumbai Police (2013), headlined by Prithviraj Sukumaran. Another bunch of cops in Mumbai do the same, broadly, in the 2025 ‘Deva’, also by the same director. From what I remember of the original, there seem to be several scenes which are exact replicas, but for some strange reason, the filmmakers have taken great pains to prevent themselves, as well as anyone else, dubbing the Shahid Kapoor starrer a remake.

‘Sabar Bonda’ is the story of two young men, finding their way back to each other. It is also a story of grief and acceptance, told with warmth and piercing sensitivity. Anand (Bhushaan Manoj) accompanies his mother to their ancestral Maharashtrian village from Mumbai, for the ten-day mourning period after the death of his father. He is back after a sizable gap, but the reason for his staying away starts up again: ‘potential brides from good homes’ are back on the table, and Anand finds himself struggling, like he did before, for a way to tell his relatives that he’s gay. ‘Sabar Bonda’ has a couple of firsts to its credit. It is self-taught filmmaker Rohan Parashuram Kanawade’s debut feature, and the first Marathi film chosen to screen at the Sundance Film Festival, whose 41st edition is currently underway.

Last year Bollywood’s Republic-Day gift was Fighter, which zoomed in, checking several patriotic-movie boxes: brave Indian fighter pilots, going up against favourite enemy Pakistan, displaying valour and camaraderie. This year, it is Sky Force, coasting on the same elements, except this one is a thinly-disguised account of a real life incident during the 1965 Indo-Pak conflict, in which a squadron decimated a fleet of modern American jets housed at Pakistani base Sargodha, in an operation the film calls Sky Force.

An honest-to-a-fault, maths-whizz ticket collector gets embroiled, unwittingly, in the doings of a greedy banker: this one-line premise may have sounded exciting on paper, but the execution comes off contrived and clunky. Madhavan plays Radhe Mohan Sharma, who brings his affable self and a razor sharp brain to his job, whose first encounter with a comely cop (Kirti Kulhari) isn’t exactly a meet-cute. She rebuffs his offer of an orange bought from a fruit-seller at the station: ‘main chori kiye santare nahin khati’, she says.

One of the chief things that emerges from this four-part mini-series on the Roshans, is that, despite being part of so many memorable films via music, direction, production and performance, their contribution to Hindi cinema was not celebrated enough. Part of the pleasure of watching this kind of show is the straight-up access: apart from the Roshans themselves — Rajesh, Rakesh, Hrithik and close family — everyone from Shatrughan Sinha, Shah Rukh Khan, Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Karan Johar, the Akhtars, Javed, Farhan and Zoya, Abhishek Bachchan, singers Asha Bhosle, Suman Kalyanpuri, Sudha Malhotra, Usha Mangeshkar, Kumar Sanu, Sonu Nigam, and several others are all here, speaking about their relationship, professional and personal, with the Roshans.

The much-delayed, riding-on-controversies ‘Emergency’, written and directed by Kangana Ranaut, is finally out. The long disclaimer states that the biographical feature ‘draws information from the life and real life events of one of the most respected politicians and former prime ministers, Smt Indira Gandhi’. And then it follows up the standard caveat of ‘creative liberties’ having been taken in the dramatisation, with a most un-standard sentence: ‘the filmmakers fully acknowledge and respect other perspectives and viewpoints’. This unexpected dissonant note pretty much sets the tone of this film in which Ranaut has played the role of Indira Gandhi, which swings from showing her as a young woman growing into an autocratic leader, to a weak, vacillating mother under the influence of Sanjay, her ‘bigda hua beta’, and back again.

When Hathi Ram Chaudhary says in his world-weary manner, ‘hum toh paatal lok ke permanent niwasi hain’, he’s not just addressing a character in the series. He’s plunging us into the nether-world again, and we dive right in, willingly. The first season of Paatal Lok (2020), directed by Avinash Arun and created by Sudip Sharma, quickly become a benchmark, in the way it lifted a familiar world — weatherbeaten-but-idealistic cops pulled into cases of murder and corruption in high places — by singular story-telling, and characters that stayed with us. I’ve sorely missed my favourite cop, entire lifetimes imprinted in the craggy lines of his face, in the interim. Welcome back, Chaudhary sir.