Kartik Bhardwaj

in Cinema Express

Beehad mein baaghi hote hain, dakait milte hain parliament mein ( In Chambal there are rebels, the dacoits sit in the Parliament),

in Cinema Express

Priyadarshan has a command over comedies. Sadly, this talent is unintentionally on display in Haiwaan, a cat-n-mouse chase thriller featuring a visually-impaired saviour and a psychopathic serial killer. You laugh where you should be scared and are confused where you should be engaged.

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That being said, the film does have its misses and often feels overwritten. The screenplay starts dragging and the unnecessary love song and an item number doesn’t help. But you can ignore the little slips because the characters are incessantly watchable.

in The New Indian Express

For an overwhelming “comedy-director” reputation, atleast in Hindi cinema, Priyadarshan builds up the dread better. Some scenes with Vadhusur jump-scaring as soon as the lights go out are done with the deftness of a competent horror filmmaker but they soon become repetitive and thus lose inventiveness. The laughs, however, are laboured with too much reliance on physical comedy than situational humour. Akshay slaps, kicks and loses his shit in a desperate attempt to evoke some giggles. The writing thins out soon and the film becomes a garbled mess borrowing ideas from everywhere be it Lights Out (2016) or Stree 2 (2024).

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With a script as thin as a map, Dhamaal 4 is a senseless, mind-numbing mess.

in The New Indian Express

Imtiaz has never been a particularly political filmmaker, atleast not directly. His films always come from a deep, personal place. His characters almost always are the misfits who want to run away to find themselves. This time he zooms out, he makes the personal, political. Main Vaapas Aaunga is about Punjab, about the buried trauma of the refugees and how pain gives birth to patriarchy. It is about a past which asks a question to our present: “Have we not learnt anything? ” But cut all of that, let the politics be only in a politician’s speech and this film is about a boy who was sadly made into a man by Partition and now old age has turned him back into a child. It is a story of moving on but then going back.

in The New Indian Express

A team-up of an inexperienced lawyer and a sharp stenographer makes for a pulpy premise but notice how patiently director Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari (Nil Battey Sannata, 2016; Bareilly Ki Barfi, 2017) lays down the story.

in Cinema Express

Toaster had the potential to be a quirky, crazy ride but it gets derailed quite soon.

in The New Indian Express

Although the premise had some promise, when peeled, the Maddock Production is any other run-of-the-mill, small-town comedy, once frequented by Ayushmann Khurrana. In the ensemble, you have Seema Pahwa, Raghubir Yadav, and Sanjay Mishra. I was eagerly waiting for Vijay Raaz to show up and complete the comedy quadruple. But even with such an impressive cast, the fun doesn’t flow. Scenes fall flat. Actors talk animatedly, as if cosplaying their own characters from other films. Rajkummar seems like he is stuck in an acting loop, rehashing the same performances he gave in Vicky Vidya Ka Woh Wala Video and Stree. Wamiqa has sparks and promise, but she stretches them as soon as she starts to get charming.

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He plays Adi, the quintessential son of a family friend whose sole purpose is to woo Rakul’s Ayesha and give competition to Ajay’s Ashish. Meezaan, however, convincingly does his good-boy routine. He matches steps with his father (Jaaferi), romances like a cheap imitation of SRK and also gives a little dose of comedy. The film’s main problem though is not a middling performance but the fact that it goes into an abyss where every plot possibility seems fair game. There are plans and counter plans and the twists are akin to an Abbas-Mustan presentation. DDPD 2 is unable to contain the strange narrative floodgates it opens, whose resolution comes unconvincing and disjointed. The climax is so drab and long-drawn that, like its male leads, I too might have developed some grey hair of my own.

in Cinema Express

(With some butter). One of the Keralites is unnecessarily a nurse. A turbaned Sikh exists only for comic relief. A Gen Z girl keeps whipping out Korean hearts. The film seems to come out of a Pan-India rom-com manual (I am sure it exists). If Param Sundari was a feeling, it has been described by the film itself:

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Even if you detach the film from its politics (I’ll be amazed if you can) and look at it from a perspective of storytelling and craft, The Bengal Files still falters. At a runtime of 3 hours 20 minutes and with every character going on a tiring tirade, the movie makes for an excruciating experience akin to a bland history lesson. Amidst all the noise, the performances too couldn’t leave a mark and felt perfunctory. The Bengal Files responds to a tragedy with anger. It will leave you disturbed and anguished. It borrows definitive answers for present-day questions from a tainted past. That’s not how we move forward.

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Baby John feels like a feverishly hurried version of Theri. It doesn’t let the characters marinate and is too eager to get to the conflict. The build-up is often half-baked, and the action, when it comes, is underwhelming. I expected Varun to dial up his goofy charm with this one, but there seems to be an unseen weight of becoming an action star on his shoulders. He jettisons his personality and seems to be aping his South Indian counterparts. Jackie Shroff, as the nemesis Nanaji, with his frail frame and thinning dreadlocks, looks menacing but never feels like a formidable antagonist. There is a feeble, even absurdist, attempt to give Wamiqa Gabbi’s character Tara (Khushi’s teacher and John’s potential flame in the film) more agency than her counterpart in Theri (played by Amy Jackson). It turns out to be odd and illogical.

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Most of Bhaiyya Ji is all bark and no-bite (In a scene, Abhimanyu suggests that Ram Charan shouldn’t be called with respect, he should be called kutta (dog)). When we get down to the showdown, the editing is haphazard. The action is more camp than kitsch. As the story dawdles, the film becomes more and more absurd. Characters exhibit secret skills which are explained via flashbacks. Actually, a lot of narrative building is done in flashbacks, for instance Bhaiyya Ji’s love for his brother, Vedang’s relationship with his mother. You facepalm and let your hand stay over your eyes for long because it has become unbearable to experience what is unfolding on the screen. The narrative resorts to exposition to fill up gaps in the screenplay. I even spotted a continuity error during the climax (Focus on Abhimanyu’s clothes).

in The New Indian Express

If not experimental, it is still an enjoyable watch, full of trivia and nostalgia.

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