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Movie Review: Sarzameen (2025)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

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Sarzameen marks the absurd nadir of Hindi terrorism dramas. Bollywood producers: please, give us a break.

In many ways, Sarzameen is no different from other recent terrorism movies. A shadowy organization intent on taking innocent lives forces a lone, hyper-competent soldier to choose between love and duty to his country. But the team behind Sarzameen — first-time feature director Kayoze Irani (actor Boman Irani’s son) and debutant screenwriters Soumil Shukla and Arun Singh — uses every genre trope in a way that exhibits zero understanding of how the audience will react. It’s like if you punched someone and expected them to thank you for it.

The super soldier in Sarzameen is Colonel Vijay Menon (Prithviraj Sukumaran). He’s the kind of guy who can take out dozens of heavily armed terrorists with just a pistol. Vijay’s wife Meher (Kajol) adores him, and his young teenage son Harman (Ronav Parihar) looks up to him.

Thing is, Vijay loathes his son. Timid Harman stutters when he speaks and gets beaten up for not being athletic, to Vijay’s mortal embarrassment.

Vijay gets a chance to show just how much he detests Harman when the boy is kidnapped. The group holding him wants to exchange the boy for two imprisoned terrorists, brothers Qaabil (K. C. Shankar) and Aabil (Rohed Khan). Vijay is convinced that Qaabil is an alias for the mastermind “Mohsin,” but someone claiming to be the real Mohsin offers to turn themselves in following the prisoner swap. Vijay is skeptical, but desperate Meher asks him, “What if you’re wrong?”

At the swap — which involves releasing the brothers into a shallow streambed while Harman is left elsewhere, out of sight — Vijay has flashbacks to his swearing-in ceremony as a young soldier. Overwhelmed by fears that he’s acting unpatriotically, Vijay starts shooting at the brothers as they walk away. Vijay kills Aabil, but Qaabil escapes. The Colonel returns home to Meher with a sad look on his face, having doomed their only child to death.

During every scene with Harman, Vijay behaves like a complete jerk. Vijay lets his son be killed not because of “patriotism” — which the film uses as a nebulous catch-all concept — but because of ego, cementing him as an all-time cinema a-hole. How Irani, Shukla, and Singh don’t see Vijay’s actions as irredeemable is the story’s biggest mystery. Vijay can’t come back from this — or it would take storytellers much more experienced than this trio to redeem him.

Yet, eight years later, Vijay gets his second chance. A young man rescued with other hostages says his name is Harman Vijay Singh (Ibrahim Ali Khan). Turns out Harman wasn’t killed, merely tortured for years while living with the terrorists. Of course Vijay doesn’t believe this is his son. This “Harman” does one-armed pushups and doesn’t stutter, so he must be a fake. Meher — who inexplicably stayed with Vijay after he supposedly got their son killed — can tell this is her son, and DNA proves it. Harman lives.

The acting in Sarzameen is generally not terrible. Khan seems bewildered as Harman, but that’s actually appropriate. Kajol is fine. Sukumaran doesn’t do anything to soften Vijay’s rough edges, but I’m not sure he could have salvaged things.

All of Sarzameen‘s problems stem from a story that cannot work as written. Genre clichés are thrown together in the service of too many plot twists. But there’s no substance behind any of it, no consideration given to character motivations. It’s a film about “patriotism,” but what do the filmmakers think patriotism means?

The filmmakers deliberately refuse to define the terrorists’ objectives, lest they accidentally portray them sympathetically. But, by making Vijay the world’s worst dad, they make the terrorist outfit look good by comparison. Qaabil is a supportive and nurturing leader, understanding the value of providing directionless young men with a place to belong. Contrast that with Vijay’s disappointment that Harman wasn’t born wielding a machine gun, not to mention Vijay’s commanding officer’s (Boman Irani in cameo) penchant for needlessly dangerous publicity stunts that put civilians at risk. Which outfit comes off looking better?

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Movie Review: Loveyapa (2025)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

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Rarely has a romantic comedy been so devoid of romance or comedy. Loveyapa is grim viewing.

The official remake of the 2022 Tamil film Love Today dumps viewers into the relationship of 24-year-olds Baani (Khushi Kapoor, daughter of Sridevi) and Gucci (Junaid Khan, son of Aamir Khan). Kapoor actually is 24, but Khan is 31 and looks it. His older physical appearance makes them a visual mismatch, and it makes the immature antics his character engages in look even more indefensible than they already are.

After 35 minutes of boring stuff — mostly them hiding their relationship from their nosy parents and preparing for the wedding of Gucci’s sister Kiran (Tanvika Parlikar) to shy dentist Anupam (Kiku Sharda) — the movie finally reaches its first plot point. Baani’s strict father Atul (Ashutosh Rana, who must have owed someone a favor) insists that the couple swap phones for 24 hours before he’ll give them permission to continue dating.

Baani doesn’t find anything suspicious in Gucci’s phone because he cleared it of incriminating material before turning it over. However, when Gucci looks at Baani’s phone, he learns that, by virtue of being a pretty woman on social media, Baani is bombarded with pleas for attention from all manner of men (which she politely deflects). However, her messages show that she lied to Gucci in order to meet one of her exes platonically, knowing that Gucci would be mad. He is.

Instead of talking about this with Baani or just breaking up with her, Gucci slut-shames Baani to her father. Gucci is hurt, so he hurts her back — mature behavior for a 31-year-old, er, 24-year-old. But Baani’s dad is no chump. He restores the deleted material from Gucci’s phone and says they’ll need three more days to go through it all.

Baani finds that Gucci messages his exes too, along with lots of other random women. He requests photos of them under the guise of casting for a movie that doesn’t exist. (The fake movie’s title — “Lovelorn Tribal Woman” — is the only funny part of the film). He still has an active Tinder account.

Worse, Gucci is the account holder for a social media handle that he and dozens of other men from his college use to prank each other and harass people, including occasional blackmail and extortion. Someone’s been using the account to sexually harass Baani, in fact.

Gucci’s response to this revelation? “Baani, boys do this.” Boyhood now extends to age 31, er, 24, I guess.

In reality, this is where Baani would dump Gucci’s skeevy ass. They’ve both been miserable since the phone swap experiment started. She has proof that he’s a creep, and he doesn’t trust her anymore anyway. What is there to salvage?

But this is an extremely conventional Bollywood romcom. The “happy” ending is determined from the outset, regardless of what happens in the film. None of the big social problems introduced are interrogated in any meaningful way. The female lead suffers, and the male lead decides the outcome. Roll credits.

To be fair to the actors, there’s no one who could have made Loveyapa into a good movie. Yet it is fair to question their contributions to its awfulness. Kapoor has starred in three movies in her young career, and her performances have been fine. She’s not without potential, but she hasn’t done anything to stand out from her peers yet. When you come from a famous family, you can coast on being cute for a while — but not forever.

Khan’s experience as a stage actor isn’t translating to movies yet. There was an awkwardness to the way he moved in his debut Maharaj, and it’s present here, too. If not for his famous father, I suspect he’d have started in supporting roles or unconventional character parts. Nothing about him screams “Bollywood leading man” yet. Maybe he’ll achieve that some day, but his next career move needs careful consideration.

Again, Kapoor and Khan aren’t solely to blame for Loveyapa. It’s regressive and sexist and devoid of humor. Watching it is a dispiriting waste of time.

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Movie Review: Mere Husband Ki Biwi (2025)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

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The question at the heart of any love triangle movie should be “Who’s going to win?”, not “Why are they fighting over this guy?”. The women in Mere Husband Ki Biwi (“My Husband’s Woman“) would’ve been better off staying single.

The man in the middle of this unfunny comedy is Ankur (Arjun Kapoor), who has no defining character traits. Two years after his divorce from Prabhleen (Bhumi Pednekar), he still hallucinates her everywhere. Even the opportunity to have sex with a Russian stripper at a bachelor party can’t take his mind off Prabhleen.

Ankur’s long-suffering best friend Rehan (Harsh Gujral) suggests that Ankur leave Delhi and go sell real estate for his dad (played by Shakti Kapoor) in Rishikesh. There, Ankur runs into his former college classmate, Antara (Rakul Preet Singh), who’s now a physiotherapist with a passion for adventure sports. Ankur immediately falls for her, and Rehan encourages him to be open about why his marriage failed.

Based on the way Prabhleen haunts Ankur, we assume she must have been a nightmare to live with. But in Ankur’s own retelling of the relationship, he’s obviously the villain. He expected her to clean up after him, even though she worked full-time as a journalist — a job he didn’t respect, going so far as to assault her boss and getting her fired. She makes a drastic decision unilaterally, but only because she was in a time crunch and Ankur refused to speak to her.

Even in this recounting, Ankur never owns up to his role in the breakup, seeing himself as a victim only. (We’ve also seen that he’s still a slob.) Antara’s takeaway is not concerns that he’ll repeat his mistakes with her. Instead, she’s worried that he won’t be able to top the grand romantic proposal he made to Prabhleen, should he propose to her.

Ankur being messy seems somewhat trivial, but it’s symbolic of his relationships with women. In the case of his marital home with Prabhleen, he covers their beautifully decorated living room in pizza boxes and empty bottles. It smells bad and attracts pests, and (most importantly) he knows it bothers his wife. He says that their maid can clean it up the next morning (which isn’t kind, either), but he surely knows that Prabhleen won’t rest until her beautiful home is tidy once more. He reduces her to his servant not just as punishment for her working outside the home, but simply because he can.

There’s nothing wrong with working as a house cleaner, but Ankur was attracted to Prabhleen because she was ambitious and educated. Yet once he married her, he wanted her to stop being who she was and slot into the role of “one of the women who cleans up after me.” Given that Antara is just as driven and accomplished as Prabhleen, it’s almost as if he’s choosing this type of woman deliberately — another beautiful thing for him to make a mess of.

Of course, none of these gendered relationship dynamics are interrogated in Mere Husband Ki Biwi. On the day Ankur proposes to Antara, Prabhleen gets in an accident and loses the last five years of her memory. She thinks the current day is the day Ankur proposed to her. The doctors warn everyone not to tell her the truth, lest it set back her recovery. Thus everyone has to pretend that Ankur and Prabhleen are still in love until the climactic reveal.

Just kidding! Within a few minutes, Prabhleen’s dad (played by Mukesh Rishi) tells her about the divorce, and that whole plot setup is abandoned. Prabhleen decides she wants Ankur back as a do-over.

The writing and direction of Mere Husband Ki Biwi — both the fault of Mudassar Aziz — are terrible, but the English subtitle translations don’t help. I’m not sure if the subtitles included with the version of the film showing on Hulu are the theatrical originals or if they are new for streaming, but they don’t even hint at what’s supposed to be funny in much of the dialogue. For example, when Rehan questions how Ankur has managed to get two women chasing after him, he asks, “Got some magical asphalt or something?”.

Bhumi Pednekar infuses more charm into Prabhleen than the movie deserves. Dino Morea is likewise amusing as Antara’s intimidating older brother Ricky. Arjun Kapoor and Rakul Preet Singh are just there. Same goes for Mukesh Rishi and Shakti Kapoor, who get nary a Gunda reference in this Bulla-Chutiya reunion, as far as I could tell.

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Movie Review: Animal (2023)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

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Animal is so unintentionally funny that it almost veers into So Bad It’s Good territory. Almost. An excess of pointless, gory violence and an unrelenting mean streak overshadow the film’s wackier elements, making it simply So Bad.

Ranbir Kapoor plays Vijay, a man obsessed with his emotionally distant father Balbir (Anil Kapoor). Since childhood, Vijay has assumed that he knows what’s best for everyone. His eagerness to use violence to prove that gets him sent away from the family more than once, further straining the relationship between father and son.

After college, mullet-sporting Vijay woos his childhood sweetheart Geetanjali (Rashmika Mandanna) by extolling the virtue of alpha males and telling her, “You have a big pelvis. You can accommodate healthy babies.” That Geetanjali is impressed by this red pill nonsense is one of the funniest parts of the movie.

Years later, Vijay, Geetanjali, and their kids return from America after Balbir is shot in a failed assassination attempt. Vijay replaces his dad’s security team with relatives from the family’s ancestral village. In truth, Vijay has enlisted his cousins to help him take revenge on the people who attacked Balbir.

Though Animal ostensibly takes place in the real world, the story is sheer fantasy. We know this because the structures that shape our society are absent. There are no police in Animal, and barely any mention of politics or government. Vijay kills hundreds of people in a single, publicly accessible place, and there is no reaction to it, let alone consequences. As much as I loathe cinematic storytelling that relies on news footage, the fact that no one seems to notice all the dead people feels odd. Balbir’s steel factory generates unlimited funds for Vijay’s vengeance, unmanaged and almost entirely off camera.

I say almost entirely because Vijay gives a televised speech at the factory promising to slit the throats of those who hurt his dad. If only CNBC was really that interesting.

See, Animal can’t be the realized dream of alpha male culture in a world with laws. The leading man must be able to exercise his will freely. He writes the rules, and everyone needs to fall in line or die. There are plenty of Hindi films where the male lead is the arbiter of reality, though few present such a bloody version of manly id unleashed. Usually it’s just a few extrajudicial killings by a divinely sanctioned cop (a la Singham), not gory mass slaughter and terrorism.

To be fair to Vijay, a lot of his killing is done in self-defense. The sequence in which Vijay chops through dozens of assailants with an axe while his cousins sing about how a Jatt is kicking ass is pretty cool. The rest of the fight scenes are less compelling, apart from the almost orgasmic reactions some men have to hand-to-hand combat. To call it homoerotic undersells it.

None of the women in the movie have any agency. All of them are threatened or humiliated by men. Geetanjali’s marriage makes her utterly miserable.

The actors truly commit to their parts in this goofy movie. Vijay likes to talk about urination and underwear, and Ranbir Kapoor delivers the lines with a straight face. Bobby Deol shows up late in the film to chew scenery, which he does with gusto. Somehow, Shakti Kapoor of Gunda fame plays the movie’s voice of reason as one of Balbir’s long-time friends.

The thing about a So Bad It’s Good classic like Gunda is that it’s fun. The violence is broken up with lighter moments, like when Mithun Chakraborthy tosses an infant to a monkey. Animal is weird, but not fun. Everyone is unhappy, including the anti-hero main character, and there’s no sense that things will be better when the violence stops.

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Movie Review: Bawaal (2023)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

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Bawaal was constructed in an alternate moral universe. One in which a husband confines his wife to their house because he’s embarrassed by her disability and the marriage is considered “troubled,” not abusive. One in which a teacher’s physical violence against a student can be overlooked if he’s deemed a competent instructor. One in which characters find ways to identify with Adolf Hitler, who is condemned for being greedy, not genocidal. One in which romantic relationship problems are compared to the Holocaust.

The romantic drama from filmmaker Nitesh Tiwari certainly looks nice. Cinematographer Mitesh Mirchandani takes full advantage of filming in picturesque locations in France, Germany, and Poland. But the movie itself is indefensible.

Ajay (Varun Dhawan), is a stereotypical Bollywood male main character who needs to grow up. He peaked in high school and has been trying to maintain his cool image ever since. As a disinterested middle school history teacher, Ajay buys the devotion of his students by giving them good grades despite teaching them nothing.

He thought he was getting the ultimate accessory when he married beautiful, smart Nisha (Janhvi Kapoor). She warned him that she had epilepsy, but incurious Ajay didn’t understand what that meant until he witnessed her have a seizure on their wedding night. Fearful of what might happen to his image if Nisha were to have a seizure in public, he made her stop working and forbade her from leaving the house. That was nine months ago.

Now Ajay’s in trouble because he slapped a student. The kid’s dad is a politician who demands the school investigate whether Ajay should keep his job. Ajay plans to repair his image as a lousy husband and teacher by taking Nisha on a two-week trip to Europe to tour World War II historic sites and send video lessons to his students back home. But he makes it clear to Nisha that he’s only doing this for his own benefit, not because he cares about her.

When in Europe, Ajay realizes how worldly his wife is and how attractive other men find her, causing him to reevaluate whether he’s underestimated her value to him. They tour museums and Nisha translates their tour guides’ English narrations into Hindi, helping him to finally gain a shred of empathy.

Even then, Ajay can only sympathize with people from the past by imagining himself in their place (not because they were individuals deserving of life and happiness for their own sake). When he does, the image onscreen changes from color to black and white as Ajay sees himself in events from the past. He stands among soldiers being slaughtered on Normandy Beach, packs a suitcase as Nazi officers urge him to hurry, and calls out to Nisha inside a crowded gas chamber as shirtless men succumb to poison all around him.

The gas chamber sequence is disturbing not because of the imagery but because of the sheer inappropriateness of equating such an evil act to the marital struggles of an abusive husband. Nisha translates an unbelievable speech by a character who is an Auschwitz survivor who says, “Every relationship goes through their Auschwitz.” The Holocaust is not a metaphor.

As seen through the lens applied by Tiwari and his collaborators, World War II is a conflict driven purely by greed for territory. Genocide is never brought up, nor is the Holocaust referred to by name. Very rarely is it even mentioned that the majority of Auschwitz’s million plus victims were Jewish. Instead, Nisha opines that, “We all too are a little like Hitler, aren’t we? We aren’t satisfied with what we have.”

I struggle to understand this interpretation of history. Maybe it’s purely coincidental that a filmmaker from India in 2023 chose to ignore or downplay the Nazi’s systemic persecution and extermination of a religious minority. There’s some irony that Ajay mistreats his wife because of her epilepsy, yet there’s no mention of Hitler’s eugenics program that targeted people with mental and physical disabilities.

Dhawan is competent as Ajay–which he should be, because he’s playing a version of the same character he’s played multiple times in his career already. Kapoor is sympathetic as the neglected wife. But both of them should have bailed on this project once they found out they’d be cosplaying Holocaust victims in a gas chamber.

Either Tiwari and his team have a completely superficial understanding of World War II and didn’t realize the callousness of their story, or they do understand and went ahead anyway because they wanted some novel visuals. Whatever the case, Bawaal is offensive and not worth watching even to see how bad it is.

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Movie Review: Mrs Undercover (2023)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

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The action comedy Mrs Undercover is agenda-driven, not story-driven or character-driven. It’s not even clear who the intended audience is for this film that wants to promote women’s empowerment but doesn’t treat the issue with any sophistication.

Instead of first introducing its main character, Durga (Radhika Apte) — a seemingly ordinary housewife — Mrs Undercover opens with the villain, Ajay (Sumeet Vyas): a serial killer who preys on strong, independent women. We hear him beat the feminist lawyer he has tricked into having a date with him before we watch him run over her repeatedly with his car.

This misstep immediately puts the focus on the man committing violence against women, and not the woman who will (ultimately) stand up to him. The very first woman we meet is a victim, and we witness her brutal death.

Ajay goes by the alias “The Common Man,” and he records his victims confessing their crimes against masculinity before murdering them. For some reason, literally everyone in India has their phone set to alert them when The Common Man posts a new video. Why? Who knows?

The special task force assigned to find The Common Man has one last chance to learn his identity. Turns out an undercover agent whose contact information was misplaced happens to live in Kolkata, The Common Man’s new hunting ground. That secret agent is Durga.

Durga married sexist, conservative Dev (Saheb Chatterjee) to establish her cover. But with no word from the special force in a decade, Durga went ahead and started a family. When task force chief Rangeela (Rajesh Sharma) assigns her to the case, she’s not willing to disrupt her family’s routine to do so.

Rangeela’s attempts to bring Durga back into the fold are the funniest part of Mrs Undercover. He surprises her by showing up in odd places wearing disguises that don’t fool anyone.

Sadly, that’s it as far as the laughs go. The dialogue is uninspired, as far as I could tell. Only the Hindi words are subtitled, with the rest reading “???Bengali.” The action scenes are forgettable, too.

That’s because the point of Mrs Undercover isn’t to entertain, but to educate. Somber piano music plays whenever characters launch into heavy-handed speeches about how housewives are special and should be treated with respect. Religious references abound, such as naming the main character Durga and lauding women for managing their households as though they have ten hands.

I’m not sure who writer-director Anushree Mehta is trying to persuade. It’s not like men who look down on women don’t realize they do so. Durga’s husband Dev isn’t a controlling jerk by accident. When Dev’s mother (played by Laboni Sarkar) tries to convince him to allow Durga more freedom, it’s as though Mom has only just realized that her married adult son with whom she lives is sexist.

The characters feel like they came into being just before the events of the film, to serve the purposes of the screenplay. This is especially true in the case of a woman who is one of The Common Man’s accomplices. Why would she agree to help a man who is literally murdering women for refusing to be subservient? We’ll never know, because Durga shoots her before she can explain herself.

Mrs Undercover opens the door to all kinds of feminist issues, only to abandon them or treat them in a simplistic way. Durga joins a Women’s Empowerment group at a local college, and most of the attendees express a desire to start their own businesses. The men running the group instead teach them a choreographed dance routine.

Because the film addresses issues at such a surface level, it doesn’t even realize that movie’s the ultimate message to women is that it isn’t enough to be “just a housewife.” Durga saves the day using skills she learned as a special agent, not abilities she picked up once she started her family. Were she to have succeeded using those skills, the movie might have made a point about all women’s work deserving respect.

The ending assumes that justice is best served via eye-for-an-eye physical retribution meted out individually. Even then, it’s up to women to do the dirty work themselves while men stand and watch. That’s not catharsis. It’s more forced labor for women that absolves men of the work of holding other men accountable. Who does Mrs Undercover think will find this satisfying?

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Movie Review: Kuttey (2023)

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0.5 Star (out of 4)

The joyless, immature heist film Kuttey (“Dogs“) is an inauspicious feature debut for writer-director Aasmaan Bhardwaj (son of filmmaker Vishal Bhardwaj, who co-wrote and produced Kuttey).

Kuttey opens in 2003 in a remote police outpost in western Maharashtra. Officer Paaji (Kumud Mishra) listens as jailed Maoist fighter Lakshmi (Konkona Sen Sharma) explains that he’ll never find freedom as a lackey in an oppressive system. She’s proven right when Paaji’s superior officer slaps him for treating Lakshmi compassionately, then rapes Lakshmi in front of him.

Thirteen years later, Paaji is still a cop, but he’s earning money on the side doing jobs for the drug dealer Khobre (Naseeruddin Shah) with fellow cop, Gopal (Arjun Kapoor). Khobre instructs the pair to murder a rival dealer, which they do, along with killing dozens of people at a pool party.

Actually, the rival dealer survives the assassination attempt, albeit in a coma. Paaji’s and Gopal’s boss bribes them to keep their involvement quiet in exchange for a hefty payout. They turn to another sketchy cop named Pammi (Tabu) for advice and learn from her pal Harry (Ashish Vidyarthi) about the route Harry’s armored truck takes on its nightly rounds to refill ATMs with cash. Paaji and Gopal both decide to rob the truck, though not together. Other people get wind of the plan, and chaos ensues.

Kuttey is an extremely violent movie, with a body count in the dozens. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. Films full of pointless violence can still make a point themselves. But Kuttey doesn’t. It is violent in an attempt at edginess that just comes across as cruel. Couple that with the passionless sex scenes and foul language, and the film feels like the product of a particularly sheltered middle schooler who finds swearing, sex, and gore in movies endlessly thrilling because they are new to him.

The characters are so poorly defined that there’s no reason to care about any of them. We don’t know enough about these people or or their circumstances to get invested. It also strips all the deaths of meaning since there’s no sense of who is or isn’t deserving of grisly murder or what kind of void they’ll leave behind when they are gone. The goal seems to be the highest body count possible, achieved by any means.

With such hollow characters to work with, the performances in Kuttey are nothing special. That goes for Tabu as well, whose assignment is to cuss and chew scenery. Pammi spends an agonizingly long time telling the parable of the scorpion and the frog, even though everyone already knows it because so many other movies have used it. The whole film moves way too slowly despite having a runtime under two hours.

There’s also an issue with how violence is administered in Kuttey. Virtually every character is subjected to violence. But only women are done so in a punitive way, and not just because they are an obstacle in someone’s pursuit of a greater goal. Besides Lakshmi’s rape, the scene at the pool party thrown by the rival drug dealer is especially problematic. As Paaji and Gopal walk towards the rival dealer to shoot him and his “Nigerian” counterparts (one of whom has an American accent), some unaware bikini-clad white women push the cops into the pool as a joke. Gopal can’t swim, and the women laugh at him as he’s rescued by the American guy. When Gopal recovers enough to pick up his gun, he shoots the laughing women first.

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