Tatsam Mukherjee

In India, making a film/web series based on real events/people is an adventure sport. There’s no way it can criticise political powers without being selective. Real people/organisations depicted in the narrative need to sign off on permissions before one depicts them, which becomes trickier if the depiction is anything beyond heroic or idealistic. The legal departments comb through the script picking apart inane details; one might argue such films/shows are made by lawyers as much as filmmakers. No wonder most look timid and cauterised. The additional obstacle for Robbie Grewal’s Made in India: A Titan Story, adapted from Vinay Kamath’s book, Titan: Inside India’s Most Successful Consumer Brand (2018), is that it’s also partly produced by Titan.

Anurag Kashyap’s Bandar is set in a fascinating world. An out-of-work actor Samar Mehra (Bobby Deol), 50, a shadow of his ‘90s screen-self, has to perform his one-hit wonder at tacky weddings to pay the bills. When he exits the airport and sees his more famous colleagues (cameos by Sunny Leone and husband Daniel Weber) getting ‘papped’, he takes out his phone and takes a selfie of his tired face, to humble-brag on social media. He’s behind on his EMIs; his domestic help, Shiva, hasn’t been paid in four months. Even as he carries a constant back pain, Samar is unapologetic about his carnal desires, dabbling in problematic pornography and scrolling through profiles of significantly younger women, as if to suggest a sexual preference. He’s also petty and territorial, something we find out during a conversation with girlfriend, Khushi (Saba Azad), when he expresses displeasure after she went out with a group of friends the night before. All in all, where protagonists are usually air-brushed, Samar is a grimy, authentic everyman, comfortably placed in his contradictions, unserious world-view and profound vanity.

At the heart of Curry Barker’s Obsession lies a simple, contained but brilliant premise: what if your dreams come true; but those dreams turn out to be your worst nightmare. Starting out writing comedy sketches under “That’s a Bad Idea”, this is only the writer-director’s second feature. Maximising the thin conceit and wringing the idea for social commentary, Obsession keeps the audience unsettled, as Barker takes the narrative to ludicrous and shocking heights. Bear (Michael Johnston), a young introverted man, probably in his 20s, is hopelessly in love with friend Nikki (Inde Navarrette). They work together in a music store, living a harmless life in American suburbia: going to trivia nights, taking turns at the karaoke, hopping between bars and house parties. When she puts in her two-weeks notice at the workplace, he must hurry and tell her how he feels. He buys a ‘one-wish willow’ (a bark that is supposed to be split into two after one makes a wish) as her going-away present. Too shy to give it to her after he drops her home, Bear, without thinking too much, wishes ‘Nikki would love me more than anyone in the world’ and then breaks it. Much to Bear’s shock, his wish is granted, as Nikki turns around from near her door-step, walks towards his car, and insists if she can sleep at his house.

Bishnu (Gaumaya Gurung) is a writer in her bones, which explains why we see her continuously grappling with the world. While those around Bishnu go through life with less fuss, we see her recording nearly all experiences from outside, trying to gauge the subtext of each and every conversation, the pauses, closely examining one’s train of thought, questioning it, and trying to understand why one bit leads to the other. An insider-outsider in her village in Sikkim, having returned after quitting a copywriting job in Delhi, she sees the town with a new set of eyes. Tribeny Rai’s Shape of Momo takes the idea of a ‘homecoming film’ – where characters are usually forced to visit home and resolve their friction with the place – and flips it.

Director Ashwini Iyer Tiwari has been making films for over a decade. And yet, nothing gives away her lack of assurance more than her choice of background score. Iyer Tiwari’s style is what I like to describe as having soap-opera coherence (my mother is a huge fan of these films, which are technically proficient, but ideologically axiomatic). If the choice was ever between thought-provoking and manipulating tears, she overwhelmingly leans towards the latter. Having made films with noble (sometimes, even sweet) through lines, like a mother re (Nil Battey Sannata), or a woman making a comeback to professional sports after a prolonged sabbatical (Panga) – Iyer Tiwari’s films often find its underdogs in women. But there’s also a lack of rigour in her ideas curdling the simple into gratingly simplistic.

While watching Kartavya, one can spot a pattern in the films Shah Rukh Khan’s Red Chillies Entertainment (RCE) wants to champion. After Atul Sabharwal’s Class of 83 (2020), Shanker Raman’s Love Hostel (2021), Pulkit’s own debut, Bhakshak (2024) comes the upstart director’s latest release – a cop procedural set in a faux-Haryana town called Jhamli, centered around a notorious Godman, a murder and the village elders set on avenging their humiliation with corpses. Given how the space for the political film has been severely curtailed in the last few years, RCE’s films seem built around the socially vulnerable: orphaned girls, runaway lovers, kids imprisoned in service of Godmen. In a time when the studio could be making anything, props to RCE for picking these grim subjects and lending adequate gravitas to them.

Before we discuss the joys of Kyle Balda’s The Sheep Detectives, we must dwell on the obstacles around it (and there are a few). First, that flat title – possibly suggested by a business mind. I can’t imagine many people looking at the title and being remotely excited by it. Second, this is a difficult genre. Creating an idealised version of a world (aimed at children), it’s hard to preserve the sweetness of the world without making it egregious for adults.

Ritwik Pareek’s Dug Dug is quite the tease. In a gloriously meditative opening sequence, a visibly inebriated man steps out of a liquor shop with a ‘quarter’ in one hand, and a beedi in another. He rides into a dark highway on a luna (a two-wheeler), zigzagging with abandon. SUVs, trucks and buses whiz past him from either side of the road. A car advises the man to stick to one corner of the highway, which he promptly rebuffs with profanities. The foreboding begins as the drunk man struggles to stay awake on his two-wheeler, risking his own life and others. He seems to know where he’s headed, suggesting he’s done this many times before. Watching this opening stretch, felt like seeing a nation coasting through a lonely, dark road.