Suhani Singh

If there was one show that was asking for a big screen treatment, it was Mirzapur. The desi hinterland iteration of The Godfather, with politics, violence, foul language, turf wars and dialogues that spread like wildfire on social media, drew an instant following. Season three was the weakest of the lot, so the makers knew what needed to be done to lure fans back. Cue: bring back Munna (Divyenndu). Set in 2018, in what would still be the first season, a chunk of Mirzapur: The Movie is devoted to establishing the characters and indulging in some world building for those unfamiliar with dirty politicking in Purvanchal Uttar Pradesh. But the movie invariably is a reminder as to how Munna is the lynchpin, with much of the limited winning, funny moments all belonging to Divyenndu.

“This isn’t an Amar Chitra Katha fairytale” says Rocking Star Yash in the introduction to his first film since KGF: Chapter 2, the movie that turned his fortunes around by giving him pan-India popularity. It’s another thing that by the end of three hours and 15 minutes of crass dialogues, gory violence and over-the-top shenanigans in Toxic, one yearns for a simple Amar Chitra Katha tale. Action and swagger are key attributes of Yash’s screen persona. In Toxic, though, there’s overreliance on the combo to such an extent that the story seems to have been forgotten altogether. Like the KGF films, here too it’s hard to keep pace with what is happening, where it is unfolding and even who is who after a point.

The first dialogues of period drama Batwara 1947 resonate with the mood of the nation at present. A crowd chants ‘Bharat Mata Ki Jai’ on the eve of Independence. Sunny Deol’s Sikander Mirza, a factory owner in Meerut, is enthused, distributing sweets and decorating the neighbourhood to celebrate the occasion. His is the Nehru jacket-wearing Muslim with no kohl under eyes or cap on head. Soon, he realises that his allegiance to the new nation is irrelevant as his loyalty is only determined by his faith. Muslims, he discovers in disturbing manner, are no longer wanted in Bharat. A reluctant, forced migration via train happens.

It’s not every day that comes a Hindi film where one sees dogs; it’s even rarer to see them upstage humans so effortlessly. What makes Amit Rai’s feature Ohh My Dog all the more special is that he has opted to shine a light on the local ‘indies’ rather than pedigreed breeds. This lends the film a certain rootedness, a sense of relatability and authenticity. One of the dogs happens to be Rai’s own pet Oscar, but the scene-stealer here is the professional Bruno, a year-and-a-half old who runs, barks and always has a look of purpose and determination. This isn’t a four-legged creature whose sole objective here is to make audiences go ‘Aww’ (that he naturally does), but more ‘Whoa’ at his physical prowess and olfactory powers.

“Hisaab toh Punjab ka hai hi complicated (Punjab has a complex history),” says Arjun Rampal’s CBI (Central Bureau of Investigation) officer and the film’s narrator in Honey Trehan’s profoundly relevant Satluj. The director is in no mood to shy away from the state’s turbulent past or let the wrongdoers off the hook in this drama that has seen its share of trouble with the censors. Much like its real-life protagonist Jaswant Singh Khalra (played by Diljit Dosanjh), a human rights activist, Trehan has been resolute in his mission, refusing to flinch to the powers that be—in this case the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). His persistence paid off as Satluj, formerly titled ‘Punjab ’95’, finally released on ZEE5 in the iteration its creator wanted—though only briefly.

Credibility is an important attribute when telling any tale, more so if it is around India’s national security. Yash Raj’s spy universe for long operated with the ability to make viewers suspend their belief and instead soak in the foreign locales, the choreographed stunt set-pieces, the songs and the swagger on display. That is until Dhurandhar entered the spy landscape. Suddenly, reality became a mainstay, the threat all too actual, to make the film an immersive experience. Alpha, YRF’s first women-centred narrative in the testosterone-heavy spy universe, arrives in that environment, wherein it will be measured not against Pathaan, Tiger, War et al but against the world Aditya Dhar created in Dhurandhar.

Be practical (read: boring and safe) or free-spirited (read: fun and unpredictable)? That’s the life-defining choice Kunal (Shahid Kapoor) has to make by the end of two hours and 30 minutes of Homi Adajania’s Cocktail 2. It sees the audience go from drab Delhi to sunny, sandy and scenic Sicily and back to drab Delhi, witness an excess of sartorial flourishes from costume designer Anaita Shroff Adajania and watch the trio—Ally (Kriti Sanon), Diya (Rashmika Mandanna) and Kunal—laugh their way through life to such extravagance that your own cheeks hurt at their expense.

Varun Dhawan has made a decent living playing the man who refuses to grow up. Once again, his father David Dhawan, in what’s billed as his last directorial venture, gives the son a character that requires Varun to be in ‘Energiser Bunny’ mode throughout. Pause and thairaav are negligible words in the Dhawan universe of comedies that has delighted at least two generations of viewers. But the impact of those tried-and-tested funny games is fading. That’s best evident in Hai Jawaani Toh Ishq Hona Hai’s hero, who takes the cake in his ability to believe he’s beyond wrongdoing and in the sympathy he feels entitled to.