Sukanya Verma

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.

In Jab Tak Hai Jaan, Shah Rukh Khan tells Katrina Kaif, ‘Har ishq ka ek waqt hota hai’ to make sense of their estrangement. It’s as though all of showrunner Sharanya Rajgopal’s Musafir Cafe hinges on this line where two love stories run parallel and reveal the fickle face of modern-day love. An adaptation of Divya Prakash Dubey’s popular Hinglish novel of the same name, Musafir Cafe travels between now and then as the origins of Chander (Vikrant Massey) and Sudha’s (Vedika Pinto) lovey-dovey past loom over the polite affections between Chander and Preeti (Mahima Makwana) in the present. One was his love, another is his partner, a distinction observed rather impersonally in Musafir Cafe.

The YRF spy universe may pride itself on crossovers but the only connection it has ever established is superstar cameos make for crowd-pleasing attractions every time they get each other’s back in lavishly mounted action set pieces. Even at their scene stealing best – think Katrina Kaif’s towel clad fisticuffs in Tiger 3 or Deepika Padukone’s ice skating chase in Pathaan – the ladies must settle for secondary status. In Alpha, women are shown as the face of the franchise but still dictated by men in power as fathers and foes they must contend with for the sake of spinoffs. Director Shiv Rawail’s half-hearted diversion from the male-dominated genre means to give the girls their due but only ends up failing their cause in a generic, lacklustre actioner.

As filmmakers, Rajkumar Hirani’s cheerful spin on social issues and Avinash Arun Dharware’s moody, gritty slices of life could not be more different. One would not think of them as collaborators but that’s exactly what they are on Pritam And Pedro, a buddy comedy about a pair of chalk and cheese individuals joining hands against the masterminds of cybercrime. Having watched all of its six staggeringly sloppy and staid episodes, perhaps they are better off staying in their own lanes. As the creator, co-writer, producer, editor and father of one of Pritam And Pedro’s titular heroes, Rajkumar Hirani dons a lot of hats and tries to bring his rosy outlook to a premise hinged on thrill and danger.

When the first Welcome came out in 2007, the comic camaraderie between Anil Kapoor and Nana Patekar as Majnu and Uday delivered on its laugh out loud promise. With the second one, Welcome Back, the madness appeared to be losing its edge save for the lone, loony graveyard scene elevated by Anil and Nana’s superbness in a leave-your-brains-behind brand of comedy. Third time’s the charm? If chuckling five times in three hours is the new definition of hilarity, sure, why not? Welcome To The Jungle’s crowded chaos strays wholly from its loony gangsters theme to achieve its ‘big is better’ beliefs. Director Ahmed Khan replaces Anees Bazmee for this sillier-by-the-second spectacle starring a swarm of stars. As a matter of fact, one hour of its 164 minutes long circus is spent introducing its unending stock of characters as part of Welcome To The Jungle’s grand humorous plan.

We got to be kidding ourselves if we thought films like Cocktail have anything to do with modern day love or changing relationship dynamics. Thriving on styling more than storytelling, fashion and far flung destinations flush its frames like ’90s escapism once did with dream sequences of dancing in the Swiss Alps. When Homi Adajania’s Cocktail came out in 2012, what caught everyone’s fancy was Deepika Padukone’s loosened-up avatar, Diana Penty’s poised debut and the twain painting London red in a wardrobe full of chic clothing. What didn’t blow anyone’s mind was watching rom-com’s worn-out poster boy Saif Ali Khan fool around women half his age in a disappointingly conventional love triangle penned by Imtiaz Ali.

Survivors of Partition could never truly move on as the horrors it brought on continued to haunt their hearts for the rest of their days. So did the hope to see their home once in their lifetime. They never really believed they won’t be able to return ever again. I’ve heard of the displacement and a desire to revisit their home in stories of my grandparent-in-laws. They, like many others, on both sides of the border, died without getting their wish fulfilled. Scenes of burying their wealth in the backyard with hopes of reclaiming it on return, fleeing bloodthirsty foes on the other side with the help of friends from the same community or women wearing a vial of poison around their necks in the event of violent mob attacks, days and days of uncertainty spent in camps would become stories of staying alive. One that flocks of homeless and heartbroken refugees, like my relatives, would remember and remind generations to come.