Suhani Singh

The biggest sin a filmmaker can commit is to not make audiences care. Not for the characters, not for the events unfolding. Bhooth Bangla, the Priyadarshan-helmed horror comedy, is fully committed to this cause from the get-go. That it distances itself from the audiences with a genre much loved of late makes it all the more unbelievable. At the core of this misfire is the plotline, which revolves around Vadhasur, a bat-faced monster whose modus operandi is similar to that of Sanjeev Kumar in the cult film Jaani Dushman: abduct and kill new brides in Mangalpur. Vadhasur’s kill count ensures that no wedding takes place there, and the odd one that does goes horribly wrong.

A dark cloud of anxiety and unease hangs over Swati (Nehha Pendse) as she negotiates unwanted attention of her boss (Jaimini Pathak) and a mounting debt. Her younger sister, Sarika, (Sonalee Kulkarni) is in no better position, feeling stifled as the sole caretaker of their ailing mother and a stuttering career. The estranged sisters are united by the fact of their mother (Bharti Achrekar) being terminally ill. It doesn’t take long before they start bickering like children even as they turn caretakers.

Three months after writer-director Aditya Dhar set the box office ablaze with Dhurandhar, he brings another, longer round of his violent saga. This time, there’s a sharp political manifesto attached. Yes, Pakistan is India’s favourite worst enemy, but Prime Minister Narendra Modi is a key character here, even if it means showing him through videos of his speeches playing in the background. Referred to as “chaiwala” by the villains, his decisions cause as much headache in Pakistan as Hamza’s actions do.

It’s not every day that Hindi film audiences get to see a creature spread fear and panic. Of late, Maddock’s horror comedies have shown the appeal of creating a worthy nemesis with the Stree films and Munjya. Bejoy Nambiar’s Tu Yaa Main reminds us why we love to fear the croc in a survival thriller. After all, when it comes to sleek killing machines, it doesn’t get better than the cold-blooded amphibious reptile. Tu Yaa Main starts out as a love story between two Gen Z creators. The girl’s (Shanaya Kapoor) famous, rich and privileged; the boy’s (Adarsh Gourav) from Nalasopara and lives in a crammed house with his family. She’s sophisticated; he’s the boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Opposites attract, suggests Nambiar, as he sets out to establish why despite their differences they are MFEO (made for each other).

When Arun Khetarpal (Agastya Nanda) receives a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom The Bell Tolls, filmmaker Sriram Raghavan has already hinted to the audience how he will be tackling the heroics of the Param Vir Chakra-awardee protagonist. He’s essentially telling you to keep the hankies ready. Ikkis isn’t a straightforward biopic of a young, enthusiastic army officer who dreams of fighting and beating the foe. When Khetarpal brings his golf clubs to the training camp and defiantly declares to his senior that he will put them to use in Lahore after victory, he gets a beating down: a war decides whether a fool is a braveheart or a braveheart is a fool. In his second on-screen outing, Nanda plays out Khetarpal’s innocence and righteousness well. Joining the Indian Army, he confidently tells his colleagues that his aspiration is to sacrifice his life.

Bani Ahmed (Kritika Kamra) wants to write. With just 12 hours to submit an application that may land her a job in the United States, she finds herself interrupted by the doorbell. Continuously. Each subsequent ring sees the arrival of a member of the Shamsuddin clan. There’s her easily gullible and recently divorced cousin Iram (Shreya Dhanwanthary); an over-intellectual ex (Purab Kohli) and his latest young girlfriend; another cousin in Humaira (Juhi Babbar Soni); inquisitive and opinionated aunts (Dolly Ahluwalia and Farida Jalal); another cousin and his bride-to-be. Simply said, Bani just cannot catch a break.

Seeing Rashmika Mandanna in the Telugu film The Girlfriend draws a mix of both pleasure and disconcertment. For the first half-hour or so, her Bhooma Devi seems eerily reminiscent of Animal’s Geetanjali, for she finds herself in a relationship so quickly that it doesn’t even dawn on her whether she wanted it or not. Does Mandanna realise the parallels drawn, one wonders. The Girlfriend, though, is in no mood to show Bhooma and Geetanjali as soul sisters. Not what Bhooma endures but what she realises—a tad slowly—is where The Girlfriend becomes the relationship horror that will leave audiences, especially women, uncomfortable with the warped notion of romance.