Uday Bhatia

A young woman is visiting her in-laws for the first time. She’s eager to impress them. She cooks, cleans, runs the house. She’s hurt by their jibes but tries not to show it. Her husband is mild-mannered but thin-skinned; she has to apologise for pulling his leg. Their lovemaking is awkward. She puts her interests on hold, but it isn’t enough. Slowly, she comes to a boil. She’s played by Nimisha Sajayan. The film is The Great Indian Kitchen. Or is it Babita Singh Reporting? It’s a little strange to watch Sajayan, one of the best actors in India today, undergo similar trials and humiliations to ones she endured five years ago, in her most celebrated role. Ambiecka Pandit’s Hindi film is a world removed from Jeo Baby’s Malayalam drama. But Sajayan’s Babita is a close cousin to her unnamed wife in that film, a silent sufferer until all the silence is wrung out of her.

“I was hoping to have a civilised conversation,” says Melissa (Rukmini Vasanth) to the naked glowering gangster. Raya (Yash) glances down deliberately, then looks up and says, “Do I look civilised to you?” She pulls open her dress to reveal a bomb strapped to her chest, says she wants revenge for her father, who was ruined by Raya’s casino. He sets off the timer and propositions her while she panics. At the last moment, he flings the explosive out the window. Next thing you know, she’s threatening his ‘regular’ and calling herself his ‘permanent’. Toxic is thin as paper and empty like a broken promise. Not since Animal has a film tried this hard to get a rise out of the audience. But Sandeep Reddy Vanga at least knows his entire purpose is juvenile baiting. Try as she might, Geetu Mohandas doesn’t have that innate nastiness. The transgressions she offers are ridiculous but not shocking—a distinction the film itself makes when Nadia (Kiara Advani) tells Raya he’s not a bad guy, just toxic.

Jason Statham isn’t one to go a-wandering. In The Beekeeper (2024), he plays an ex-Marine out to avenge the death of his landlady. In his next film, A Working Man (2025), he’s an ex-Marine who rescues his employers’ kidnapped daughter. In Shelter (2026), he’s an ex-government assassin who protects the daughter of an old friend. And in his latest, Mutiny, he plays an ex-Marine out to avenge the death of his employer. The way you can tell them apart is The Beekeeper has a lot of bee-related puns, A Working Man is written by Sylvester Stallone, Shelter is set in the Scottish Hebrides, and Mutiny takes place on a boat.

Halfway through Batwara 1947, bored out of my mind, I started to wonder how the film might be if instead of Shabana Azmi playing the old homeowner it was Naseeruddin Shah channeling his Ishar Singh from Main Vaapas Aaunga. It’s not that Azmi isn’t effective, just that Mai—a Lahori Hindu who’s lost her family in the tumult of Partition and whose house is allotted to Muslim refugees from India—can only ever be an object of pity. On the other hand, a cranky, rude old timer who resents the Muslims occupying his home… now that might be a challenge to the audience. Rajkumar Santoshi’s film isn’t interested in challenges. It wants to appear bold without actually being bold. It’s adapted from a broad, didactic play by Asghar Wajahat, Jis Lahore Nai Vekhya, O Jamya E Nai, and the film ends up even more of a sermon. Aamir Khan, co-producer with Aparna Purohit, has never stopped lecturing viewers since the 2000s, but at least he usually does his own preaching. Here, confusingly, it’s Sunny Deol, who’s calling for universal brotherhood one minute and horse-whipping a dozen men the next.

Two months into the Kargil War, Pakistani prime minister Nawaz Sharif determines to see with his eyes what his heart already suspects: that they’re losing the battle. At Skardu base, he’s received by Maj Gen Javed Hassan, who invites him to the officer’s mess for a briefing. Sharif fixes with a stare and says, “The truth of democracy is revealed at the polling booth, and the reality of war in the hospital.” The condition of the wounded and general despondency in the hospital tent tells him all he needs to know, prompting a rare act of rebellion and a covert trip to Washington.

This past week, I’ve had a dull, throbbing ache in my head. It gets distractingly painful at times, and I was worried about the aftereffects of waking up early on Friday, heading out to the local cinema, putting on 3D glasses and watching Spider-Man: Brand New Day. Surprisingly, I felt about the same leaving the cinema as I did entering it. The only plausible explanation is that my body doesn’t differentiate between a MCU Spider-Man film and a dull, throbbing ache. Peter Parker (Tom Holland) is having headaches too. Some are literal. His new mutations, which give him enhanced powers but also make him snap into a less wholesome version of himself, are a physical strain. Some, though, are emotional, the fallout of Dr Strange’s spell at the end of No Way Home (2021), which protects the multiverse by erasing Peter from everyone’s memory. He now lives on his own, sadly keeping tabs on MJ (Zendaya) and Ned (Jacob Batalon) at MIT, throwing himself into crimefighting to such an extent that detective Jean DeWolff (Liza Colón-Zayas) is more worried than grateful for his help.

I’d like to believe John Leguizamo is Eumaeus in The Odyssey because he was Tybalt in Romeo + Juliet (1996). To watch Baz Luhrmann’s film as a 12-year-old and hear Shakespeare’s language from the mouths of Leguizamo and Harold Perrineau and Dash Mihok rewired my brain. In Christopher Nolan’s latest film, Leguizamo plays a blind swineherd on the island of Ithaca living in the hope that his king Odysseus (Matt Damon) will return. It’s an oddly tender performance, but the electricity of his Tybalt is missing. In its place, extending across the entire cast, is a more limited provocation—imagine if ancient Greeks spoke like present-day Americans instead of posh Brits?

The YRF Spyverse is now running on vibes, star cameos and whatever ridiculously catchy new jingle with placeholder English lyrics Sanchit and Ankit Balhara have cooked up. After the glorious high of Pathaan (2023), there’s only been disappointment: first the unnecessary Tiger 3 (2023), then the embarrassing misfire of War 2 (2025). Shiv Rawail’s Alpha isn’t as dire as the previous two entries, but nevertheless shows a franchise badly in need of fresh ideas and, more importantly, a sense of purpose.