Tatsam Mukherjee

Is there a director working today who has been able to consistently match the crescendo of the last minutes of a Christopher Nolan film? Since Memento (2000) – barring Insomnia (2002), the only remake Nolan has made – the final stretch of most Nolan films could bring corpses to life. In fact, I think one of the most crucial tricks behind his popularity, his ‘prestige’ if you may, might be his ability to finish strong. His weakest film, The Dark Knight Rises (2012), after plodding along for 164 minutes, ends with a spectacular five-minute montage tying all the loose ends of the Batman trilogy. The montage is so good, it almost made me forget what a clunky film I’d seen. In The Odyssey, Nolan delivers his usual rousing climax, but the knockout punch comes a few scenes before. Odysseus (Matt Damon) is talking to his wife, Penelope (Anna Hathaway), for the first time in 20 years. After spurts of flashbacks about the Trojan war peppered through the 173-minute film, this is the first time Odysseus looks back on his storied invasion in the most clear-eyed manner.

The title for Nachiket Samant’s film is at first perplexing. But then, once I saw what they were trying to do, I smirked. An English transliteration of the protagonist’s name, Baby Karmarkar — how amused one might be by the pun might dictate how much they end up enjoying Samant’s film – because it’s full of dour, made-in-Mumbai humour. Baby (Huma Qureshi, also producer with brother/actor Saqib Saleem) is a deaf/mute female assassin, whose umbrella doubles up as a sneaky pistol. Exploiting Mumbai’s crowded spaces, Baby slips in, kills her target, and slips out. Thanks to the blinders that Mumbai residents have put on, it takes a while for most people to realise there’s a corpse next to them. It’s a smooth, nifty way to get the job done. In the film’s first scene, the makers introduce Baby’s modus operandi inside a Mumbai local.

Honey Trehan’s Satluj (previously titled Panjab 95) was supposed to have its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival 2023. It’s been locked into a battle with the Censor board. The film got a brief release on Zee5 (which doesn’t require a CBFC certificate) on July 3. Two days later, on July 5, the film was pulled down. Zee5 announced this on multiple platforms through a statement. Trehan has said he has full faith in the platform, and he’s praying the film will be back soon. Late into the film, a ghost enters a room. It speaks to a man, a state witness who turned hostile in the scene before. The ghost recounts the harrowing circumstances of its death. The eeriness of the scene reminded me of a film by Gurvinder/Anup Singh. A grounded police procedural about a missing human rights activist till then, Trehan’s film boldly cuts across into surreal territory. And yet, it’s his emotional honesty that ensures the wild swerve doesn’t feel jarring.

Nothing communicates the listlessness of Hindi cinema over the last six years better than the diffidence of Bollywood’s two flagship studios: Dharma Productions and Yash Raj Films (YRF). A staleness has pervaded through their overall slates. YRF’s Spyverse branding of cross-border harmony was battered by Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar films. While Dhar’s films have a gritty self-seriousness to them, the spyverse was nimble and had the ability to laugh at its dramatic license. Dhar’s films are nakedly pro-establishment as opposed to the spyverse, which has managed to remain relatively balanced. This is why they have been mocked. But now, if Shiv Rawail’s Alpha – which positions two women spies at its centre for the very first time – is to be believed, the trolls might be getting under producer Aditya Chopra’s skin.

Christopher Storer’s The Bear has built a singular fan-base, since it arrived in 2022. The kitchen of a sandwich shop in Chicago becomes a place of reckoning for its dozen primary characters, battling one form of existential dread or another. It’s been nice to witness the show’s stylistic swings crystallise over the years. For instance: the loud pandemonium of the largely one-take marvel, Review (S01E07), is contrasted with the precise ASMR of Honeydew (S02E04) – when Marcus goes to Copenhagen to train as a pastry chef. The vortex of a deeply dysfunctional family in Fishes (S02E06), is followed by the winsome redemption arc of Richie in Forks (S02E07). My favourite episode in the show, Tomorrow (S03E01), relaying Carmen’s culinary journey till the end of S02 in non-linear fashion, working like a recap episode, is among the 10 most aesthetically ambitious episodes I’ve seen in my life.

“Come get me. They’re shooting!”

Long after seeing The Voice of Hind Rajab, the five-year-old’s voice still echoed in my ears. It became impossible to unhear her confused, scared and desperate cry for help. Kaouther Ben Hania, who was compelled to direct the film after chancing upon Rajab’s voice while scrolling through social media, is standing on an ethical minefield here. A fictional film – which splices real-life recordings between the Red Crescent volunteers and Rajab into itself – it could’ve resulted in a jarring, self-conscious film. But to the makers’ credit the hybrid form of the film feels almost seamless while recreating the crushing disappointment of the war room – where a handful of volunteers spend an entire day trying to arrange an ambulance to rescue the child. This could have been a sentimental, exploitative film, but it’s, again, Ben Hania’s ability to hold back at the right time that made The Voice of Hind Rajab one of the most essential films of last year. The film is magical in the way it fuses truthfulness and creative license.

In a scene during Imtiaz Ali’s Main Vaapas Aaunga, when Nirvair (Diljit Dosanjh) takes the stage at an open mic in London, I braced myself. In my head, Ali is notorious for dipping his toes in subcultures he considers ‘hip and trendy’ (like stand-up comedy here, fresco painting in 2009’s Love Aaj Kal) – including them as passing details in a film, never to be brought up again. Over here, it’s used to establish Nirvair as a young wastrel (from a wealthy family in Amritsar) coasting through life. He can’t stick to a job for more than two months, he can’t commit to his girlfriend, Kaveri (Banita Sandhu). His father (Rajat Kapoor) asks, “Why do you keep running?” – a narrative failsafe, lest the metaphor be lost on someone unfamiliar with an escapist Imtiaz Ali protagonist.

When Steven Spielberg made Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), extraterrestrial life forms were a dining-table conversation, shrouded in mystery and wonder. As his latest venture Disclosure Day releases, aliens, ‘unidentified flying objects’ (UFOs) and deep-state military complexes unfortunately appear more often in the message boards of alt-right conspiracy theorists – folks caricatured beyond redemption in popular culture. This is the first significant difference between the two Spielberg films, released 49 years apart, which might dictate the latter’s reception. Another thing working against Spielberg’s latest film is that it comes a decade after Arrival (2016), directed by Denis Villeneuve. The Amy Adams-starrer, based on humans making first contact with extraterrestrial beings, managed something rare: being both deeply philosophical about the human condition while also being a definitive anti-Spielberg film, with its devastating, open-ended climax prompting more questions than answers.