Category Archives: Reviews

Movie Review: Silence 2 (2024)

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1.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Silence 2 on Zee5

Silence 2: The Night Owl Bar Shootout leans into modern streaming video viewership habits. Every detail in this murder mystery is spelled out in such excruciating detail that you’d might as well be scrolling on your phone while you watch it. Full attention is not required.

Silence 2 is a sequel to the 2021 Zee5 Original Silence… Can You Hear It?. Familiarity with the first film isn’t required, as the sequel follows a new case, and the main characters’ personal lives are hardly mentioned.

Manoj Bajpayee plays ACP Avinash Verma, leader of Mumbai’s Special Crimes Unit (SCU) within the police force. Verma’s boss is aware of genre requirements and repeatedly threatens to disband the squad if they don’t produce results.

The SCU is assigned to investigate a mass shooting event at a dive bar. Verma’s first question is, “Did someone important die?” — as if the double-digit body count alone shouldn’t warrant his attention. Turns out a minister’s secretary is among the dead, and the minister fears it has something to do with a sensitive project he’s working on.

That’s a red herring. Verma and his crew — which includes Sanjana (Prachi Desai), Amit (Sahil Vaid), and Raj (Vaquar Shaikh) — quickly realize that the lone woman at the bar was the real target. She was an escort named Aazma (Surbhi Rohra). Soon enough, the squad is hot on the trail of human traffickers.

The crew exists in order to make every clue explicitly obvious. A coded message instructs someone to “Meet at Sam’s.” They narrow the search to a handful of buildings with names like Kaveri, Samruddhi, and Riddhi. Sanjana proudly connects the dots, “Samruddhi! SAM’S!”

Desai and the other actors playing squad members actually do a decent job delivering lines that require zero nuance. Same for Bajpayee, who gives a matter-of-fact performance. Parul Gulati — who plays a rich woman named Aarti — is the film’s unsung hero for managing to give a believable performance, when the material she’s given could’ve easily been interpreted in an over-the-top way.

That’s the mistake Dinker Sharma makes as cartoonishly theatrical business tycoon Arjun Chauhan. “Theatrical,” as in he wears a cape and holds a fake skull while reciting Hamlet’s “Poor Yorick” speech. Every moment he’s on screen is annoying.

Given that a few of the other supporting performances are hammy and irritating, too, Sharma might be doing exactly what writer-director Aban Bharucha Deohans wants. Regardless, this isn’t a film that any of the actors involved will want to emphasize on their highlight reels.

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Movie Review: Teri Baaton Mein Aisa Uljha Jiya (2024)

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1.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Teri Baaton Mein Aisa Uljha Jiya (“Got So Entangled in Your Words“) has the makings of a decent movie. What begins as a high-concept romantic comedy about a man in love with a robot takes an insane turn at the end. Not once does it address the logical ethical questions that must be asked of such a relationship.

Shahid Kapoor stars in Teri Baaton Mein Aisa Uljha Jiya (TBMAUJ, henceforth) as Aryan, a robotics engineer. His family is pressuring him to find a wife, but he’s more interested in his job. He takes after his single aunt Urmila (Dimple Kapadia), who runs a big engineering firm in the United States.

Urmila invites Aryan for a visit but is called away on an urgent business trip. She leaves him in the hands of her assistant Sifra (Kriti Sanon). Sifra is gorgeous, helpful, and clearly interested in Aryan. He thinks she’s perfect.

After day of flirtatious fun in the sun, the two sleep together. Urmila returns the next morning and drops the bomb on Aryan: Sifra is an incredibly lifelike robot. Urmila invited Aryan to test if Sifra could pass as human, and she did. Aryan was none the wiser, not even while having sex with her.

Angry as Aryan is at Urmila’s deception, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s developed feelings for Sifra. But who exactly is Sifra? She is programmed to read human emotions and respond appropriately, but she has no emotions of her own. Aryan loves her because she’s hot and will do exactly what he wants her to do whenever he wants.

Under the guise of conducting further research, Aryan convinces Urmila to ship Sifra to Delhi to meet his family and see if she can fool them, too. He doesn’t tell his aunt that he’s intending on marrying Sifra if she passes the test.

None of the stuff with his family is very funny. Situations that should spark extended comic sequences — such as when Sifra downloads a virus that erases her memory — are resolved in a matter of minutes. The robotic woman angle should be fertile ground for physical comedy, but that aspect is especially weak.

There are a bunch of ethical questions that needn’t be investigated thoroughly in a comedy but should at least be acknowledged. Sifra is programmed to do what anyone tells her, so where should the line be drawn as to what constitutes an acceptable command and who can issue it? Does she have bodily autonomy? Is it permissible to hit her? (This is plot relevant, sadly.)

Before the end of the story, Aryan will have to chose whether or not to commit to marrying a robot. The way in which he’s forced to do so is chaotic and ridiculous, and the dark turn doesn’t fit with the tenor of the film to that point. Then Janhvi Kapoor appears in an epilogue cameo that is somehow even crazier than the bizarre climax.

It’s a surprise that TBMAUJ winds up being as bad as it is given that it’s co-written and co-directed by Amit Joshi and Aradhana Shah, writers of the charming 2022 comedy Babli Bouncer. That film was thoughtful about the unconventional woman at the heart of its story, as opposed to treating Sifra’s womanhood (or approximation thereof) as immaterial. Babli Bouncer was also much funnier.

Shahid Kapoor and Kriti Sanon share good romantic chemistry and look hot together in the song “Akhiyaan Gulaab” (although the closing credits dance number is kind of a mess). Neither of them perform particularly well during the comedy bits, but that’s probably more of a writing issue since no one else in the film is funny, either. The story setup is so solid and accessible that it makes the sloppy execution extra disappointing.

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Movie Review: Amar Singh Chamkila (2024)

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4 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Amar Singh Chamkila on Netflix

Filmmaker Imtiaz Ali’s Amar Singh Chamkila is an all-time great music biopic and one of the director’s finest works. His use of varied storytelling techniques makes for a riveting exploration of the life of a controversial celebrity.

In the 1980s, Amar Singh Chamkila (Diljit Dosanjh) and his duet partner and wife Amarjot Kaur (Parineeti Chopra) ruled the music scene in Punjab with their cheeky, catchy tunes. The movie opens with the couple’s assassination on March 8, 1988, along with two members of their band.

As their bodies are ferried away, a song begins, and performers akin to a Greek chorus sing about Chamkila’s life as seen from different perspectives. Some of the singers are characters who will be important to the film going forward, while others stand in for the masses who adored Chamkila.

The montage cuts between groups of singers, all of whom emote directly to the camera with abandon. Rival musicians are hostile, while the older guys who sing about Chamkila being a “horny” guy give some great lascivious looks. Same for the saucy ladies who confess to listening to Chamkila’s music secretly. It’s so effective and so fun. (Ali brings the ladies back later for an excellent, raunchy number performed with maximum sass.)

The film’s present-day action takes place on the evening of the murders, as those who worked closely with Chamkila narrate flashbacks to his beginnings. His drunken former friend Tikki tells everyone in a restaurant how he found Chamkila working in a sock factory. Entourage member Kikar Dalewala fills the cops in all the folks who wanted Chamkila dead, from conservative religious groups who considered him a corrupting influence to rival singers whose livelihoods were damaged by his success.

What made Chamkila so popular was his willingness to write about the stuff of neighborhood gossip, things like a brother-in-law spying on his sister-in-law while she bathes, or randy old men. He wrote them as duets: a back-and-forth between a man and a woman. The first singer he works with, Sonia, is reluctant to sing dirty lyrics until she sees the crowd go wild for them.

Dosanjh is a wildly popular singer in his own right, and he infuses Chamkila’s lyrics with his own energy and charisma. The casting of the women singers in Amar Singh Chamkila is brilliant. While Sonia and others are good, they don’t sound right with Chamkila — until Amarjot comes along a few years into Chamkila’s career. Then everything falls into place. Chopra had never sung on a film soundtrack before, and she absolutely nails the part of Amarjot. Being tutored by the legend A. R. Rahman — who wrote original music for the film with lyricist Irshad Kamil — undoubtedly helped.

Throughout the movie, Ali intersperses images of publicity photos and album covers featuring the real Chamkila and Amarjot, often alongside recreations by Dosanjh and Chopra. It’s a reminder of how careful Ali and his co-writer Sajid Ali were when telling the couple’s story.

A note at the start of Amar Singh Chamkila clarifies that some liberties were taken for the sake of the movie. Nor is it meant to be comprehensive. While Chamkila sang about violence and drugs, most of the songs in the movie are about sex, including hits like, “Brother-In-Law, Check Out My Booty.” Still, the movie does a good job placing Chamkila’s career and his social importance within the context of Punjab during a time of rising violence and economic hardship.

The film’s greatest success is showing just what made Chamkila a superstar. His music is really catchy. The give-and-take between him and Amarjot is fun. Their songs and performances lifted people’s moods when there was plenty of reason to be down.

Chamkila has been referred to as the “Elvis of Punjab,” and the comparison is fitting. Both grew up in rural poverty. Both became bigger sensations than they could have dreamed, inspiring an insatiable voracity in their fans. That adoration was offset by critics who viewed them as obscene. There was no way either singer could stop being who he was, and they both died young as a result. It’s no surprise that both artists inspired truly great biographical films: Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis in 2022 and now Imtiaz Ali’s Amar Singh Chamkila. Both deserve it.

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Movie Review: Woh Bhi Din The (2024)

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2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Woh Bhi Din The on Zee5

Woh Bhi Din The went through quite a journey before its release. The movie was shot in 2013 and only just now made its global debut on Zee5. It’s a good thing it finally did, as it presents an accurate depiction of the emotional lives of teenagers.

The film opens with a cameo by John Abraham giving the least-inspirational speech ever by an alumnus to students at his old high school. Being back on the campus of Loyola School leads him to reminisce about his own colorful past with his rowdy friends in the late 1990s.

Cue a flashback montage of a bunch of teenage boys doing dumb teenage boy things. The young version of Abraham’s character Rahul is played by Rohit Saraf, who was 15 at the time of filming. His best friend is Joy, played by a baby-faced Adarsh Gourav. They are part of a larger group of boys who cause a little trouble but generally aren’t bad kids.

One huge point working against Woh Bhi Din The is that a homophobic slur is a regular part of the boys’ banter. And they say it a lot. Given that the movie isn’t otherwise malicious, I suspect/hope the term would not be used if the film were made today.

Loyola is the first school the boys have attended that is coed. Same for the girls in the class. The town where the story takes place is small and conservative, so the boys and girls keep mostly to themselves.

The exception is Malaika (Sanjana Sanghi), who prefers the nickname “Milky.” She’s new to town after having lived all over the world, so she’s more outgoing and comfortable crossing the informal gender boundary than her peers.

Rahul is initially put off by Milky’s free-spiritedness — he’s had an unrequited crush on his demure neighbor Shalini (Charu Bedi) for years — but when Joy befriends the new girl, Rahul realizes she’s actually cool. When she confesses her crush on Rahul, he’s smitten.

Having a first girlfriend should be a happy milestone for Rahul, but it’s actually the catalyst for his world falling apart. His temper gets shorter, he neglects his friends for Milky, and he starts policing her behavior. When she shakes another guy’s hand, he asks her, “Why don’t you just sleep with him?”

The emotional immaturity of the characters is spot on. Their relationships and reactions feel authentic. Teenagers are a rarity in Hindi films, especially as main characters, and seeing them portrayed with accuracy and compassion is a treat.

The main actors are very competent, especially considering how young they are. Gourav’s talent is readily apparent in a character that requires understatement. Saraf is a fitting leading man as Rahul faces the consequences of his selfishness. Sanghi is a delight as Milky, who’s a charming mix of bubbly and vulnerable..

Woh Bhi Din The is the directorial debut of Sajid Ali, who co-wrote the story with Saurabh Swamy. The pacing of the screenplay is a bit off, because it’s longer than it needs to be, but it’s overall a thoughtfully-made film. Kudos to Ali for taking a chance on working with teenage actors and doing right by them.

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Movie Review: Patna Shuklla (2024)

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2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Patna Shuklla on Hulu

The earnest legal drama Patna Shuklla is elevated by an unexpected climax.

Raveena Tandon stars as Tanvi Shuklla, a lawyer who is more renowned for her homemade ladoos than her prowess as a litigator. She’s happily married to government worker Siddharth (Manav Vij), and they have a cute young son, Sonu (Arijeet Kaurav). The biggest crisis in her life is when Sonu forgets his lunch and she has to chase down the school bus on her scooter.

Then a challenging case falls into Tanvi’s lap. College student Rinki (Anushka Kaushik) asks Tanvi to represent her in a case against Rinki’s university. The young woman is sure she passed her final exams, but the university says she failed. Rinki believes the school is lying, and that it has something to do with the fact that she and her father are poor. She wants the court to compel the university to investigate.

It’s a shock when superstar lawyer Neelkanth Mishra (Chandan Roy Sanyal) shows up in court to represent the university for a seemingly small administrative matter. His presence alone seems to confirm Rinki’s suspicions that there’s something fishy going on.

Soon enough, Tanvi is pressured by political scion Raghubir Singh (Jatin Goswami), who was part of Rinki’s graduating class and is about to run for office himself. But threats only steel the resolve of the two women fighting for justice.

The tone of the film, especially at the start, is very light — almost sitcom-esque. There’s a goofy vibe as neighbors demand Tanvi’s attention while she’s trying to get Sonu ready for school, hence her having to chase the bus with his lunch. Characters directly address their feelings, and there’s little subtext in the film. The story’s conclusion is unexpected, but the film’s straight-forward delivery never changes. What you see is what you get.

One of the most interesting aspects of the story is the assumption that corruption is present in every part of society. That even people of humble means find it more expedient to bribe someone to solve a problem of their own making than to wait and try again on the up-and-up. Tanvi rightly points out that admitting her own transgressions doesn’t absolve others of theirs, but it’s a curious thought experiment as to what constitutes fairness when everyone cheats.

Raveena Tandon and Anushka Kaushik carry the film and do a competent job doing so. It would have been fun if Chandan Roy Sanyal’s rival lawyer character had a bit more to do.

The late Satish Kaushik plays the judge overseeing the trial. He’s a man of peculiar mannerisms — he only walks in straight lines, for example. His quirks feel overwritten at first, but they add weight to his conduct during closing arguments and the delivery of his final verdict. After the trial is over, a shot from Tanvi’s point of view watches him as he turns his back and walks away. It’s a bittersweet, meaningful farewell from co-directors Vivek Budakoti & Rajendra Tiwari and editor Vini N Raj.

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Movie Review: Murder Mubarak (2024)

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2 Stars (out of 4)

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The mystery Murder Mubarak is packed with characters but feels insubstantial. Sara Ali Khan and Vijay Varma show why they are in-demand actors, but Pankaj Tripathi’s turn as an offbeat detective feels too familiar.

The film — based on Anuja Chauhan’s novel Club You to Death — invites comparison to Knives Out, as both feature a murder where most of the suspects are obscenely wealthy. However, a critical difference renders the class undertones in Murder Mubarak less satisfying. The murder victim in Knives Out is the patriarch of a rich family, whereas the dead man in Murder Mubarak is an employee at a posh country club.

Director Homi Adajania’s movie takes place at the Royal Delhi Club, a British colonial relic. The morning after a raucous party, the club’s hunky fitness coach Leo (Aashim Gulati) is found dead in the gym. Police inspector Bhavani Singh (Pankaj Tripathi) and his assistant Padam Kumar (Priyank Tiwari) determine that Leo’s death was homicide and set about questioning the eccentric members.

None of them are eccentric in a fun way. There’s B-grade actress Shehnaaz (Karisma Kapoor), royal descendant Rannvijay (Sanjay Kapoor), and Cookie (Dimple Kapadia), whose tongue is bright red from constantly drinking beet juice. Club president Bhatti (Deven Bhojani) has a perpetually runny nose that he wipes with his hand before touching people.

Adajania insists on showing example after example of the president’s revolting habit. It highlights an unexpected gross streak in the movie. Deaths that occur later in the film are needlessly gory, and Cookie’s bright red tongue is unappealing, too.

Inspector Singh discovers that Leo the trainer was blackmailing several members of the club, using the money he extracted from them to fund the orphanage where he grew up. While this gives those being blackmailed a motive to kill Leo, his death actually makes their lives easier. It’s not like there’s a killer targeting rich folks. The only consequence is that one of the other trainers at the gym will have to take over the Zumba class.

The surfeit of tedious oddball characters accentuate the narrative’s slow pace. The only characters who are remotely interesting are two of the club’s younger members: twenty-something widow Bambi (Sara Ali Khan) and Aakash (Vijay Varma), who’d rather be anywhere else. He’s had a crush on Bambi forever but left town after her wedding. She still knows how to push his buttons and does so to keep him around.

Khan’s performance is natural and engaging. Varma likewise demonstrates why he’s cast in seemingly every Netflix Original movie these days. Sanjay Kapoor has one very good scene, but the rest of the performances are nothing to write home about.

Tripathi has been the go-to guy for quirky roles for several years now, and the well is starting to run dry. Inspector Singh is fine but unremarkable. It’s time for casting agents to find a new actor to pigeonhole into these types of parts and let Tripathi move on to meatier roles.

There’s a chance that the book Club You to Death is better than the movie, but Murder Mubarak is so lifeless that I’m not tempted to find out.

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Movie Review: Ae Watan Mere Watan (2024)

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3 Stars (out of 4)

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Ae Watan Mere Watan (“Oh Country My Country“) gives a glimpse into an important chapter in Indian’s freedom struggle, highlighting the role of one inspiring young revolutionary.

Though not strictly biographical, the film is based on the life of social activist Usha Mehta. Sara Ali Khan plays Usha as a college student in Bombay in 1942, where she protests against British tyranny with her boyfriend Kaushik (Abhay Verma) and fellow student Fahad (Sparsh Srivastav).

Their involvement deepens after Gandhi’s “Quit India” speech leads to his imprisonment, along with the detention of other leading figures in the freedom movement. It falls to those on the outside to continue the struggle covertly.

Usha gets the idea to start a pirate radio station, broadcasting recordings of speeches by Gandhi and others to reach people directly in their homes. Operating a private radio station is illegal, so this is a dangerous proposition, especially considering the willingness of the Brits and their Indian police force to use violence against suspected insurgents.

The station — dubbed Congress Radio — is a success, and Usha, Kaushik, and Fahad are invited closer to the movement’s de facto leader, Ram Manohar Lohia (Emraan Hashmi). Lohia wants to expand the station’s reach beyond Bombay to the rest of the country. But doing so invites greater attention from the Brits, who will do anything squash Congress Radio. They put sadistic officer John Lyre (Alexx O’Nell) in charge of finding the station and those who run it.

Ae Watan Mere Watan excels at showing the tremendous cost of being an activist, beyond the obvious risks. Usha’s father (played by Sachin Khedekar) is a judge within the British-run court system. He sees Usha’s activism as more than a just political disagreement, but as a repudiation of his life’s work. Though he’s not portrayed sympathetically, his hurt is understandable. Usha likewise feels hamstrung by her love for him — she can’t live according to her beliefs and be a dutiful daughter at the same time.

Her father isn’t the only man frustrated by the depth of Usha’s devotion to the cause. It’s sad to watch Kaushik as he realizes that whatever future he imagined with Usha — marriage, kids, etc. — is not what she envisions. Romance and revolution aren’t always compatible.

Khan is a more-than-capable lead, but Verma and Srivastav are the breakout stars. Verma is delightful as lovestruck Kaushik. Srivastav plays Fahad with nuance as he evolves from being Usha’s rival to closest ally.

The movie also makes it clear that not everyone needs to be willing to lay down their life like Usha is in order to be helpful. One of her colleagues is a literature student who offers to handle any writing for the group. Another character gives money. Revolutions aren’t cheap.

It’s easy to get invested in the characters and subject matter of Ae Watan Mere Watan — so much so that the overly melodramatic music and slow-motion shots in the first half feel like overkill. Director Kannan Iyer — who co-wrote the screenplay with Darab Farooqui — tells a good story, so such obvious flourishes are unnecessary.

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Movie Review: Merry Christmas (2024)

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2 Stars (out of 4)

“Merry Christmas” was filmed simultaneously in Hindi and Tamil. This is a review of the Hindi version.

Something got lost in Merry Christmas‘s translation from page to screen. The mystery doesn’t quite work, due in no small part to a miscast lead duo.

Director Sriram Raghavan’s latest thriller is an adaptation of French author Frédéric Dard’s novel Bird in a Cage. Set in “Mumbai when it was called Bombay,” the story follows a fateful meeting between two mysterious strangers on Christmas Eve.

Albert (Vijay Sethupathi) returns to his mother’s apartment for the first time in years after working abroad. Mom died a while ago, and her walker still stands next to the bed, as if waiting for its user to return.

He goes to a fancy restaurant and watches a man ditch a beautiful woman, Maria (Katrina Kaif), and her little daughter, Annie (Pari Maheshwari Sharma), in the middle of dinner. Intrigued, Albert follows mother and child to the movies. When Annie falls asleep, Albert offers to carry her home.

Maria invites Albert in for a drink and puts on some music to set the mood while she puts Annie to bed. Christmas tunes, surely. Or maybe something seductive? Nope, Maria puts on “In the Hall of the Mountain King” by Edvard Grieg.

This sequence in Maria’s apartment is where the film lost me. Besides the weird musical choice — which is explained later, though not exactly why that particular piece of music needed to be used — the apartment is lit so brightly from above that it looks like the set of a TV sitcom. The unnatural lighting makes a goofy sequence in which Albert and Maria dance to holiday tunes look downright bizarre.

It’s a shame since building interiors are otherwise one of the film’s strongest suits. The decor in the restaurant and theater are gorgeous. The wallpaper in Maria’s apartment is seriously stunning.

This is also the point in the movie where we should start to get a sense of who Albert and Maria are and what they might want from each other. Yet there is zero chemistry between Sethupathi and Kaif, so it’s hard to tell. They both look like they are just going through the motions.

The problem really is just the two of them together. In a flashback scene opposite Radhika Apte, Sethupathi is an entirely different actor. And I’ve seen Kaif in enough films to know she’s capable of much better with the right partner.

The disconnect between the two leads makes the first half of the film crawl until a suspicious death resets the pace and raises questions. Unfortunately, the renewed tempo doesn’t last for long, slowed again by acting that feels flat.

When the truth of what is happening is revealed, it lacks a sense of inevitability. I suspect there are details that might have stood out more in the book that weren’t emphasized visually in the film. Rather than ending with the audience saying, “Aha!” Merry Christmas ends with an “Okay.”

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Movie Review: Three of Us (2023)

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4 Stars (out of 4)

A woman diagnosed with early-onset dementia returns to an important place from her youth in the quiet, thoughtful drama Three of Us. It’s a gorgeous film that gives its characters all the time they need.

Shefali Shah plays the woman in question, Shailaja. She’s married to Dipankar (Swanand Kirkire), and their son is away at college. Shailaja’s increasing forgetfulness necessitates an early retirement from her government job processing paperwork for divorcing couples.

She asks Dipankar to take her to visit Vengurla, a small town on the Konkan coast where she attended school from fifth through eighth grade. It’s not a place she’s ever mentioned before, so he’s surprised by the request but obliges with a week-long trip.

Old classmates and teachers recognize Shailaja immediately, even though she’s been gone almost thirty years. Most importantly, her childhood sweetheart Pradeep (Jaideep Ahlawat) is still in town. He’s happy to see her and takes off work to guide the couple around the area.

Elements like Shailaja’s past reluctance to talk about Vengurla or the boy she left behind could easily be the setup for a thriller or romantic drama, but Three of Us isn’t that kind of movie. Pradeep introduces Shailaja and Dipankar to his wife and kids right away. Shailaja has her reasons for not dwelling on her time in Vengurla until it becomes clear that, someday, she won’t be able to remember those days at all.

Everyone in Three of Us is nice. The story is packed with emotion even though no one yells, deceives, or fights. The conflict is with a force that can’t be fought, as Shailaja’s memories slip away and as she and the people she love ready themselves for the changes that will bring.

Shah plays Shailaja with subtlety. When she loses her place or gets overwhelmed, she clams up and quietly retreats. If we didn’t know about her diagnosis, she might just seem shy. Ahlawat’s Pradeep is a steadying presence, which might have been why Shailaja liked him in the first place. Kirkire is the workmanlike hero of the film, playing Dibankar exactly like a guy who’s hanging around with his wife’s old classmates and feeling a bit like a third wheel should be played.

Throughout all, director Avinash Arun — who also co-wrote and served as director of photography on the film — resists rushing the characters, letting us observe them as they just exist. It’s soothing.

Arun made his name in the industry as a cinematographer, so it’s no surprise that Three of Us is stunning to look at. He knows how to perfectly frame shots, position the characters in space, and follow their movements. The natural scenery around Vengurla is breathtaking, but the built environment of a small town slowly decaying is melancholy and evocative as well.

As if this weren’t enough beauty, Arun includes a scene where Shailaja returns to the dance studio where she learned Bharatnatyam. The school’s current star pupil Manjiri (Payal Jadhav, the film’s choreographer) gives a jaw-droppingly beautiful performance that alone would make Three of Us worth watching. Add that to the sweet story and pitch-perfect performances, and you’ve got yourself a really charming little film.

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Movie Review: Dunki (2023)

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2 Stars (out of 4)

Filmmaker Rajkumar Hirani’s Dunki addresses the inhumanity of national borders and immigration policies that disproportionately punish the poor. In typical Hirani fashion, he uses humor to make the problem relatable, but the grim, visceral middle section of the story feels out of place.

Dunki begins with the same framing device Hirani used in 3 Idiots: three long-time pals set out to meet another friend they haven’t seen for many years. This time, the action begins in 2020 in London, as a grey-haired woman named Manu (Taapsee Pannu in old lady makeup) breaks out from the hospital. She holds her IV bag aloft as she navigates public transit in her hospital gown, a sequence that makes for great visual humor. Pannu is the film’s standout comic performer.

Manu meets her buddies Buggu (Vikram Kochhar) and Balli (Anil Grover), who are as eager as she is to return to their Punjabi hometown. But visas are tricky to come by, so they decide to contact the friend who helped them get out of India 25 years ago — Hardy (Shah Rukh Khan).

The action flashes back to 1995, when Buggu, Balli, and Manu hoped to solve their families’ financial problems by working in England. A thriving visa-fraud industry in town promises to help those without skills or money emigrate through dishonest means. Hardy arrives in town to repay a debt to Manu’s recently deceased brother and stays to help her.

The four enroll in an English language class of dubious repute led by Geetu (Boman Irani, who also played an educator in 3 Idiots). Vicky Kaushal has a lengthy cameo as a fellow student named Sukhi. There’s an extended comedy bit as the students think they’ve found a sneaky way to pass their official English exams without really learning much English. Some of it is quite funny, but like many of the bits in Dunki, it’s longer than it needs to be.

When conventional and unconventional methods fail to get them visas, Geetu proposes a third option: the dunki (“donkey”) method. This involves paying brokers to smuggle them over land into Turkey, then via shipping container across the sea to England. It’s illegal, expensive, and dangerous, but it’s their only option. Hardy joins them, hoping the skills he learned as a soldier will help them survive the journey.

This is where the film’s comic tone shifts to something darker. There are some gruesome deaths and an attempted sexual assault that make what had been a family-friendly movie into one requiring parental discretion. It seems like an attempt to do justice to the very real horrors faced by those migrating illegally, but the change is abrupt.

While Hirani deserves credit for shining a light on this global justice issue, his fictional narrative leaves something to be desired. The characters are indistinct and forgettable, and decades of their experience are absent from the story. The audience is only supposed to care about what the characters go through, not who they are, so Hirani doesn’t develop them as individuals.

This is Shah Rukh Khan’s first film with Hirani, who gets a classic performance out of the star. The film’s lone dance number “Lutt Putt Gaya” is enjoyable, although it would’ve been fun if Pannu played more of a part in it. Khan’s other 2023 releases were action thrillers, so this was a nice change of pace. It’s just too bad Dunki‘s screenplay wasn’t up to snuff.

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