Shubhra Gupta

They say that the fount of all Indian fiction are the two epics, Ramayan and Mahabharat. Rohit Shetty seems to have taken this old saying to heart because Ajay Devgn’s eponymous Bajirao Singham is none other than a latter-day Maryada Purushottam Ram, his wife Avni (Kareena Kapoor Khan) is the faithful Sita, and all the other characters play their parallels in this version of Kalyug-ke-Ram Ki Katha. The result is loud and tedious, and instantly forgettable.

There was enough intrigue in the first season of ‘Mithya’, in which a troubled author is left on the edge of a sharp wedge, for us to want to return for another round. However, the new season, which comes from the same production house (Applause Entertainment) but a different director (Kapil Sharma) is everything that the first wasn’t: contrived, unconvincing, and, the worst sin, dull.

‘Do Patti’ comes armed with much promise. It is the first offering of a brand new female-led production house, with producer-actor Kriti and writer Kanika Dhillon having created an interesting ensemble led by Kajol, popular TV actor Shaheer Sheikh, Tanvi Azmi, Brijendra Kala and Vivek Mushran. What’s not to like? Turns out, quite a lot.

Based on a real-life character of the same name, Bandaa Singh Chaudhary tells the tale of a man who stood his ground and fought against tremendous odds during the 1980s in Punjab, when militancy was rising rapidly, propelling a clutch of separatist movements. With Arshad Warsi playing the eponymous Banda, and Meher Vij as his spirited wife Lalli, this film had the potential to deliver a strong character study set during one of the most turbulent periods of recent Indian history. But nothing does the subject any justice, neither the story-telling nor the performances.

Zindaginama tackles a set of mental health issues through six episodes, targeting a different one each time. What happens when a human begins believing in an alt reality? Purple Duniya’s protagonist, a terrific Tanmay Dhanania, sets out ostensibly to go to work, like regular folks do. But that’s all a sham. His total focus lies in the game he plays obsessively, constantly, forgetting to eat or drink. Or communicate with his sister. Therapy can help, but to what extent? And who wins finally, man or machine? Sahaan Hattangadi writes, and co-directs with Danny Mamik.

It’s 1997, an era when home entertainment equalled recording all kinds of stuff– beach vacays, birthdays, and ahem, X-rated activities– on handheld video cameras, and playing them back on personal VHS machines. On their ‘shaadi ki first-night’, nudge-wink, Vicky (Rao) and Vidya (Dimri) record their ‘voh wala video’, the loss of which propels the film into motion. Given the director’s track record with his Ayushmann Khurrana-led ‘Dream Girl’ films, in which he mixed soft-core raunch with family drama with a degree of success, it would have been foolish to expect anything else.

Early on in the 1 hour 55 minutes film, a character asks Satya, ‘Toh kya Bachchan bananna hai?’ The question is meant as both set-up and punch-line. Her reply, ‘Ab toh Bachchan hi bananna hai’, sets us up for the entire premise-cum-gist-raison d’etre of ‘Jigra’, in which Alia Bhatt’s Satya attempts to become a Bachchanesque hero, kicking and punching, hurt and hurting, falling down and getting up. And staying up.

With Ctrl, a cautionary tale about the world’s obsession and our near-total dependence on online apps, Vikramaditya Motwane has moved firmly into the future. Or is it the present? Isn’t this what the geeks have been creating with their gaming universes, where your digital avatars are the better, shinier versions of you? Where they slay all the monsters, and leave you — or rather, your avatar — fully in control?