Yet, this restraint may also be its contemporary strength. In an era of heightened nationalism and performative outrage, Border 2 largely avoids slipping into shrill propaganda, even if it occasionally panders to crowd-pleasing rhetoric. Its respect for the armed forces feels sincere rather than exploitative, its violence stylised but not gratuitous, its emotions earnest if slightly controlled. Ultimately, Border 2 works best as a tribute, not a reinvention. It honours real heroes, celebrates inter-service unity, delivers rousing action and solid performances, and provides audiences with the comforting familiarity of patriotic spectacle. What it lacks is the raw, unfiltered emotional abandon that made the original Border an enduring cultural artefact. This is a safe, well-mounted successor, stirring in parts, respectable in intent but one that reminds us that legacy is not merely inherited; it must also be boldly reimagined.
Still, it is difficult to completely dismiss Daadi Ki Shaadi because its heart is in the right place. In an era increasingly shaped by nuclear families and emotional distance, the film addresses a growing social issue: elderly parents abandoned emotionally even when materially comfortable. Vimla’s loneliness feels painfully real and the film deserves credit for centering that experience within a mainstream entertainer. For all its over-the-top execution, the film’s compassion ultimately shines through. It may exhaust you with its noise but it also reminds you, quite movingly at times, that growing old should not mean becoming invisible within one’s own family.
The screenplay is meandering, the editing slack and the direction often veers into juvenile territory. There are flashes of humour, mostly courtesy of Rohit Chaudhary as Sunny’s best friend but they are too few and far between to salvage the experience. Avinash Tiwary and Medha Shankr, both capable performers, do what they can with the material but even their sincerity cannot rescue a script that feels fundamentally out of step. One can’t help but wonder what drew them to a project so tonally confused and ideologically regressive. Ironically, the original Ginny Weds Sunny (2020), hardly a classic, now appears far more palatable in comparison. Perhaps the bigger question is whether Bollywood can move beyond this well-worn arranged marriage template. Because if this film is anything to go by, the genre isn’t just tired, it’s in desperate need of reinvention.
None of the new tracks possess the infectious quality associated with classic David Dhawan entertainers. Ultimately, Hai Jawani Toh Ishq Hona Hai functions as a farewell letter from a filmmaker who once defined mainstream Hindi comedy. It is loud, excessive, illogical, politically incorrect in places and completely unashamed of its silliness. Some will find it exhausting, while others may appreciate its commitment to uncomplicated entertainment. As David Dhawan's swansong, it serves as a reminder of a cinematic era when laughter often came from chaos and absurdity rather than cleverness. Whether today's generation embraces this over-the-top brand of comedy the way audiences did in the 1990s remains uncertain. But there is no denying that Dhawan exits the stage staying true to the formula that made him one of Bollywood's most successful comedy directors.
Made In India: A Titan Story is at its best a warm, well-intentioned love letter to the spirit of Indian enterprise, to the men and women who believed, in the face of Swiss scepticism and domestic bureaucracy, that India could put a world-class watch on the world's wrist.
By this point, the film resembles one of those WhatsApp family groups where everyone is typing at once and nobody is reading properly. The intention clearly is to create a modern Hindi heartland farce, part marriage comedy, part ensemble confusion caper and part commentary on relationships in small-town India. That is a fairly ambitious balancing act. The problem is that the screenplay approaches every possible direction with the enthusiasm of a man trying every sample at a buffet and then wondering why his stomach hurts. The narrative keeps lurching from emotional drama to noisy comedy to romantic misunderstanding without ever settling into a rhythm. One scene aims for satire, the next for chaos, and the one after that appears to exist purely because someone remembered there was a music contract to fulfil.
Isakapatnam doesn't break new ground for the genre, but thanks to its performances, convincing setting and assured filmmaking, it remains consistently watchable even when the screenplay settles for familiar territory.
Sathyan Sooryan's cinematography gives the film scale, the action choreography is effective, and Anirudh Ravichander's background score consistently enhances the viewing experience.
Having already established himself as one of Telugu cinema's most dependable comedians, Korean Kanakaraju once again proves just how effective he can be when backed by strong writing.
