Tusshar Sasi

How do we empathise with a force like the police? The last time I asked myself this, I was watching reels of police violence against Gen-Z protesters at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar. That scepticism lasted about thirty minutes, right until I spotted a traffic cop drenched in sweat while I sat comfortably in an AC vehicle, wearing sunglasses and two layers of sunscreen. Humanising lower-rank police officers in India is an uncomfortable exercise. Director Shahad’s investigative thriller Pradhama Drishtya Kuttakkar takes up that challenge and builds a cat-and-mouse game around a group of cops hiding an accidental crime from a system that both empowers and oppresses them.

A bizarre exotica circles India’s southern state of Keralam, encompassing its people, cinema, food, and heritage. Outside the state (excluding Bangalore, of course), it almost feels like a soft form of reverse racism. Sure, Keralam has the stats to back up the reputation: better education, sanitation, and a genuinely decent quality of life. Malayalam cinema has long ridden that wave, shaping this glowing image (the famous Kerala Model in many areas of public life) while turning out some of the best films in the country, a list Bethlehem Kudumba Unit seamlessly joins.

Indian male superstars have a difficult time from their 40s onwards. From soft romances and emotional dramas in their youth, they graduate to violent action films, with VFX often taking care of their once-famous physiques. These trends originate from society’s age-old belief that one is supposed to behave a certain way after a certain age. For sure, things are changing, which is why rare attempts like Vishwanath & Sons, with a major star like Suriya looking and playing his age, are welcome. Is Venky Atluri’s film the game-changer we need in 2026?

Bollywood doesn’t do solo Muslim male leads. In fact, it is both an ironic reality and an unspoken convention when the industry forces its pioneering Khan triumvirate to play upper-caste Hindus. Unless, of course, you have them as gangsters (Raees), terrorists (Fanaa), terrorism victims (My Name Is Khan), or a rare Mughal emperor (Jodhaa Akbar). Therefore, getting a superstar of Sunny Deol’s stature to play a compassionate Muslim hero in Batwara 1947 is a mini-revolution like Coolie and Sultan. Rajkumar Santoshi’s film is surprisingly well-timed in a society that still thrives on religious hatred, the seeds of which were sown decades ago, damaging India’s vibrant social fabric to a state of no repair.

Loyalty is an endangered sentiment. Even for the most committed non-vegetarians, dogs and cats occupy a completely protected tier of affection. The reason is simple: they are companion animals whose existence is closely linked to ours, and dogs, in particular, form strong, family-like attachments. Don’t we always want the absolute best for our family and close friends? In director Amit Rai’s Ohh My Dog, this unwavering, unconditional bond is explored through the framework of a thriller.

“I don’t have a phone. Do you mind taking me home?” At one point in Spider-Man: Brand New Day, Zendaya’s MJ makes this request of Tom Holland’s Peter Parker. Without batting an eye, our boy leaps out of the window with her confidently clutching his arms, as if it were the most normal thing to ask and receive, like a faster alternative to the Uber she couldn’t call. Maybe for New York dwellers in the Marvel Universe, it is a common sight to see Spidey all over town, strolling around if he isn’t saving them from the constant rain of villains. This is where Destin Daniel Cretton’s film revisits a question that previous Spider-Man films have asked as well: can our superhero be vulnerable, too? Can he grieve his own tragic losses?

Everyone loves a socially committed celebrity. Today, with student protests raging across India, the youth in particular are being urged to choose their idols wisely. Jana Nayagan‘s hero ‘Thalapathy’ Vijay is not one of those mega stars who show solidarity through tweets and Instagram stories. But if you notice his films in the last decade and a half, almost all of them are commentaries on social issues and how one man can solve them for the people of Tamil Nadu. When H. Vinoth’s film was banned by the CBFC days before its release in January 2026, it wasn’t hard to guess the reason. In an era when films are increasingly pushing certain propaganda and tweaking facts to suit their ideologies, here was a film that looked like an election manifesto. To a huge extent, it is.

The journey back home means something in every era. Whether it’s a war hero undertaking an obstacle-ridden voyage of over ten years or his wife refusing to concede that her husband will never return, the passage of time means something to everyone. That’s exactly why Homer’s Greek epic The Odyssey is such a good fit for Christopher Nolan, because he has a whole filmography around fractured timelines, memory, identity, homecoming, closures, and so on. Rather than bending the poem to suit his filmmaking, he discovers that its DNA has always mirrored his own. The result is perhaps the most naturally auteurist film of his career.