Sukanya Verma

Lust Stories 3 was inevitable. When the first Lust Stories came out, it was a novel attempt to normalise sex and its byproducts as fundamental as any other human emotion in mainstream. Though not quite as refreshing as its predecessor, Lust Stories 2 made an attempt to understand the politics of passion. Packaged in an anthology format, its four filmmakers helming four segments pattern lend the projects a watchability that even inconsistency couldn’t diminish… until its overkill during pandemic. Much water has flowed under the bridge since. The Netflix franchise returns with a reignited libido and exciting new voices sharing their view of treating sex with fun, fizz and frivolity.

Meghna Gulzar studies the modus operandi of a pair of cops committed to justice in Daayra. While DCP Raman Kumar (Prithviraj Sukumaran) has no hesitation in playing judge, jury, and executioner, DCP Ajooni Kohli (Kareena Kapoor Khan) believes in the law following its own course. A clash of this nature is not entirely new but in Daayra, it forms the centrepiece of Gulzar’s storytelling where the worldview of two law enforcers is scrutinised in a straightforward, impartial manner. What lends Gulzar’s findings its complex appeal is, the more you mull on it, the more understandable their perspectives seem. At the centre of these ideological differences is the unchanging scenario of crime against women.

Last week Gandhari, this week Haiwaan, Bollywood needs to exploit a new handicap to traumatise moviegoers. Priyadarshan’s remake of his Mohanlal starrer Oppam revolves around a blind man. One fourth of Haiwaan is spent drilling this over and over again. Those who can see are hardly better off.Watching Haiwaan is such a tormenting exercise, I wonder whether everyone associated with this monstrosity made a secret pact to remain blindfolded at the time of script reading. Having skipped the Malayalam original, nothing could have prepared me for the stupidity in store. For a change, the tendency among Hindi remakes to become glossed-up avatars of their source material, swapping substance for style, is the least of its crimes.

The idea of The Revolutionaries came about with filmmaker Nikkhil Advani’s desire to bring a young generation’s underground movement to focus. Though committed to India’s fight for freedom, these headstrong men and women employed methods in complete contrast to Mahatma Gandhi’s pacifist philosophy. Expressing disappointment at the latter’s criticism of their ways, it’s the armed side of India’s independence struggle, inspiring the likes of Bhagat Singh and Udham Singh in the future, that finds favour in the eight-part series. Series like Freedom at Midnight and Rocket Boys render Advani a perfect fit to adapt Sanjeev Sanyal’s Revolutionaries: The Other Story of How India Won Its Freedom. The filmmaker proved himself to be solid at the long format, period drama gig but there are just too many things going on and going wrong to invest in the events leading to its goals of Ghadar. Set in the 1910s, The Revolutionaries picks its key figures in Rash Behari Bose (Bhuvan Shome), Sachindra Nath Sanyal (Rohit Saraf), Bagha Jatin (Gurfateh Pirzad) and Pratibha Lahiri (Pratibha Ranta) as the plot skims to and fro between Benares, Dehradun, Delhi and Kolkata.

Losing your child in a crowd can be a parent’s worst nightmare. Bani (Taapsee Pannu) and Gokul (Ishwak Singh) go through this ordeal when their five-year-old daughter is abducted by a sari-clad stranger at Joypurra railway station. Unfamiliar with the fictional West Bengal town where cops are least interested in finding their girl and ignore a distraught mother’s cries suffering from temporary blindness following an injury caused by running after the offender, a couple’s holiday turns into horror in a matter of minutes. Stop in your tracks right there. All the curiosity Gandhari generates in its first few moments dies down just as quickly when the manufactured thrills masquerading as prospects soon reveal the emperor without clothes. Directed by Devashish Makhija, Gandhari, which credits Kanika Dhillon as producer, creative producer, story, screenplay and dialogues writer, alludes to the voluntarily blindfolded Mahabharata character of the same name.

‘Tu best hai, Baby.’ This oft-paid compliment to police officer Babita Singh aka Baby comes at the price of bending over backwards for her self-serving superior at work. The reason why she lets him throw her under the bus is to meet her family and society’s constant expectations. Caught in a perverse cycle of people-pleasing both professionally and personally, Baby barely realises its damage to her psyche until an unfortunate incident throws her off balance and sets free a rebellion long in the making.

Toxic positions itself as ‘A Fairy Tale for Grown Ups’ but I don’t know which part of that description fits this hack job spanning five decades. Though the scene is bursting with all kinds of magical looking women, there are no fairies, godmothers, spells, myths and lore of adult or any kind to be found in this 190-plus minutes long stab at nothingness. Purely relying on Yash’s aura to the point of draining him dry, the spectacle doesn’t have an smidgen of storytelling in its body rolling in sex, shock and sounds of bullets fired at anyone and everyone.

The Indian defence forces deserve accolades for winning against all odds during the 1999 Kargil war, after fighting at high altitudes and tough terrains with aging equipment while heeding diplomatic guidelines against an adversary whose strategic advantage gave them an upper hand. Quite a few movies like Lakshya, LoC-Kargil and Shershaah have fictionalised the battle on ground as part of Operation Vijay. The focus now shifts to the contributions of the Indian Air Force in Operation Safed Sagar. What sets the ambitiously scaled, meticulously crafted six-part series apart from the hyperpatriotic war takes of late is it aims for the sky with its feet firmly on the ground.