Srivathsan Nadadhur

Ruffians in Kolkata kidnap a noted politician’s grandson. A sincere officer Saptarshi comes on board to resolve the issue, seemingly linked to a dreaded gangster Bagha. While the boy is released, tensions erupt between Bagha and his henchmen, eventually leading to twin murders. A new cop Arjun Maitra comes on board to clean the mess. Jeet holds his own as a police officer with a conscience. He plays a straightforward character (sans much evolution), ensuring restraint and keeping his emotions at check. Prosenjit Chatterjee is perfectly cast as a crooked politician. The performer uses all his experience well, bringing a method to the madness. Chitrangada Singh, despite a late resurgence, is wasted in a one-note role. Playing friends-turned-foes, both Ritwik Bhowmik and Aadil Zafar Khan display adequate spunk and verve in their portrayals. Parambrata Chatterjee and Saswata Chatterjee don’t get to do much in the ‘basic’ roles. Amidst the heavyweights, Aakansha Singh holds the fort, performing a crucial role with composure. Mimoh Chakraborty tries to make the most of a well-etched character. Shraddha Das looks like a dream in a brief appearance.

Dilruba, the romance-action drama starring Kiran Abbavaram, Rukshar Dhillon and Kathryn Davison, has a fairly intriguing premise. To make amends for a misstep from the past, an ex returns to her former boyfriend’s turf and helps him reconcile with a current lover. Yet, debut director Viswa Karun’s film struggles to develop this idea into a cohesive narrative and stuffs it with subplots that feel unnecessary, across genres. The film opens with a pompous quote that valourises the protagonist Siddu’s (Kiran Abbavaram) character — ‘strong men have a character, never an attitude’. Siddu is an archetypal good-for-nothing hero one would find in a Telugu film. Having been dumped by his childhood sweetheart Meghana (Kathryn Davison) over a misunderstanding, he gives up on his graduation midway. Upon his mother’s insistence, he resumes the course, only to be chased by another girl, Anjali (Rukshar Dhillon).

A guilt-ridden elderly man Rajendran confesses to a crime he had committed 40 years ago and commits suicide, recording the same on Facebook. A suspended cop Vivek is entrusted with the case which involves the discovery of skeletal remains connected to the disappearance of a young woman from the set of Mammootty’s 1985 film Kathodu Kathoram. Vivek is desperate for answers. Asif Ali is fast cementing his authority as one of the most bankable actors in modern-day Malayalam cinema. Rekhachithram is a worthy follow-up to his other recent thrillers Thalavan and Kishkindha Kaandam. Anaswara Rajan fits perfectly as a Mammootty fan girl, who aspires for a career in films, playing her part with verve, innocence and integrity.

Pia Jaisingh, from a family of lawyers, hires Arjun Mehta, a scholarship student, as a pretend boyfriend to cover a lie in her school. Despite his academic and athletic success, relationships are not his forte. As their pretense deepens, genuine feelings develop, until all hell breaks loose over a misunderstanding. How far will Pia and Arjun go to confront their inner demons and find true love? Though the film is in place to launch Ibrahim into the industry, one feels sorry for him. He is reduced to a male mannequin devoid of any personality. All he’s asked to do is to wear good clothes, show off his toned body and if possible, find time to act. Khushi Kapoor is marginally better in the film than her debut The Archies, though she clearly has a long way to go as a performer.

The unrest surrounding the oppressive Rowlatt Act culminates in the Jallianwala Bagh massacre. London-educated advocate Kantilal Sahni, witnessing the carnage, loses his childhood friends Hari and Allahbaksh amidst the political chaos. Haunted by their deaths, Sahni exposes the systemic injustice of the British Raj that facilitated the massacre, while leading the Hunter Commission inquiry. Taaruk Raina, popular for his lighter roles, makes a welcome departure from his strengths, in a heavy role packed with old-fashioned drama – an arena he’s not fully comfortable with, though he delivers a sincere performance. Sahil Mehta, as the angsty journalist with firm opinions, is at ease with his portrayal and is helped by his strong screen presence.

Banwari Jha, a teacher in the remote village of Dhadakpur, is anxious to find a husband for his daughter, Roshni. Despite her relationship with childhood friend Amavaas, Roshni accepts a marriage proposal, surprisingly opting for the groom’s brother, Kuber. Kuber’s demand for a five-lakh worth motorbike as dowry sets off a chain of unexpected events. Fresh after his heartfelt performance in Laapata Ladies – Sparsh Shrivastava is back in a familiar avatar (with a few tweaks) but still manages to leave a strong imprint, thanks to his agile body language, ease with humour and drama. Gajraj Rao brings warmth to yet another fatherly role. It’s a pleasant sight to see Shivani Raghuvanshi grow with every project while staying true to the pitch of the character.

After Shivaji’s death, his son Sambhaji inherits the Maratha kingdom, facing threats from the Mughals, led by Aurangzeb, and internal conspiracies. While trying to uphold his father’s legacy and defending Swarajya (self-rule) against overwhelming odds, the film captures glimpses of his political mettle, military campaigns, and personal relationships, Performances Vicky Kaushal, in a high-pitched role as Maratha king Sambhaji, unleashes his complete range as a performer – striking a balance between action, romance and loud dialoguebaazi – with grace. It is, without doubt, a career-defining performance for the star. He is perfectly complemented by Rashmika Mandanna, who steps into the shoes of a resilient Maratha queen with poise and elegance. If there’s an emotion that encapsulates Chhaava as a film- it is anger. The men, the Marathas and the Mughals are hungry for power and vengeance alternatively. Chattrapati Shivaji has breathed his last after a prolonged illness and Aurangzeb calls for a celebration to signal the fall of the Maratha empire. The stage is set for his son Sambhaji to take charge of the kingdom at a vulnerable time.

Brahma Anandam presents an intriguing premise — real-life father and son, Brahmanandam and Raja Goutham, portraying an estranged grandfather-grandson duo named after the legendary comedian. Director RVS Nikhil builds on this quirky concept but overcomplicates it with excessive subplots, ultimately diluting its impact. Brahma is a rare protagonist who can laugh at himself. Once a celebrated child artist, he struggles to evolve into a skilled theatre actor, finding little success. His fractured family dynamics, unresolved grief over losing his father, and his lack of commitment to his girlfriend, Tara, add to his emotional turmoil. His only constants are his cousin Raasi and childhood friend Giri, grounding him in an otherwise chaotic world. When a promising career opportunity knocks, Brahma rekindles his relationship with his estranged grandfather, Ananda Rammurthy. As the story shifts from the city to a sleepy hamlet, hidden agendas unravel, and chaos ensues. The director, however, takes too long to get to the point, stalling with unnecessary detours to conceal a predictable plot twist.