Tag Archives: 2.5 Stars

Movie Review: System (2026)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch System on Amazon Prime

A lawyer from a wealthy family learns that justice has a price in the courtroom drama System. The film’s politics are in the right place, but tonal incongruities hamper the storytelling.

System opens with a prisoner lamenting that he can’t afford the cost to appeal his unfair sentence, only to hang himself in the next shot. It’s a grim opening that sets the stage for a critique of the Indian justice system.

Then the action shifts to the main character: public prosecutor Neha Rajvansh (Sonakshi Sinha). She’s dropped off at court in an expensive Range Rover. She awkwardly gets ready for court in the stuffy public bathroom, accompanied by a goofy soundtrack of what I described as “Italian gondola” music in my notes. It’s an abrupt tonal shift coming on the heels of a man’s suicide.

Neha is a new prosecutor, and she’s outmatched in her case against a club owner suspected of dealing drugs. Her salvation comes via a run-in with the court’s stenographer, Sarkia (Jyothika). During litigation, we see Sarika mouthing the judge’s decisions before he announces them, so clearly she understands the law better than what her credentials imply. She gives Neha a hint about the case that helps the government secure a conviction, giving Neha her first courtroom victory.

This is important, because Neha’s father Ravi (director Ashutosh Gowariker) has promised her a spot at his prestigious law firm if she wins ten cases in a row. Neha’s brother Alok (Adinath Kothare) already works for their dad, and so does her boyfriend Akshay (Gaurav Pandey).

To get an edge, Neha hires Sarika for a secret side gig helping evaluate cases. Since Sarika is the main breadwinner for family, the conflict of interest is a risk, but she is desperate for money. Unlike Neha’s chauffeur-driven Range Rover, Sarika takes the train to work and walks home to the tiny apartment she shares with her teenage daughter and husband, who is paralyzed.

The partnership between the women opens Neha’s eyes to economic realities outside the posh mansion where she lives with her parents and brother. She’s never questioned how her father made his money or considered those within her social circle particularly cutthroat. She only realizes how ruthless well-funded defense lawyers can be when she has to face off against her father in court.

Neha’s naivete is somewhat surprising, but that may be a matter of casting. Sinha is nearly forty, which, if Neha is approximately the same age, is too old to not understand the biases within the legal system.

Neha’s character development and increasing social awareness are treated with a light tone that feels at odds with the dark nature of the crimes she’s prosecuting. Her busy pseudo-Venetian theme music doesn’t fit alongside cases of rape and murder. A scene of Neha and Sarika dancing at a club is out of place.

That said, Sinha nicely depicts Neha’s evolution into a lawyer who realizes the biases within the system. She and Alok have a moving conversation about the ways living in their father’s shadow warped their growth. Kothare is particularly good in that scene.

Sarika is the more complicated character of the two lead women. She’s a low-paid worker who understands the law as well as judges and lawyers. She’s a devoted wife who’s having an extramarital affair. Jyothika’s performance balances the different sides of her character and makes her sympathetic.

It’s admirable what director Ashwini Iyer Tiwari and her writing team set out to do in terms of messaging in System. They make a compelling case that many people are priced out of affording adequate legal representation, so, sometimes, they must turn to unsavory methods to receive a measure of fairness from an unfair system. The question it poses to its main character is this: is Neha brave enough to turn class traitor for the sake of justice?

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Movie Review: Everybody Loves Sohrab Handa (2026)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Everybody Loves Sohrab Handa on Zee5

A celebratory get-together turns deadly in the engaging whodunit Everybody Loves Sohrab Handa. Actor-writer-director Rajat Kapoor confines his suspects to a single location, elevating the drama in this murder mystery.

The title is ironic, of course. The film opens with the discovery of Sohrab Handa’s (Vinay Pathak) body, dead in the living room of his vacation home from a slit throat. His friend Jayanti’s (Palomi Ghosh) screams wake the dozen others in the house, all of whom had gathered to celebrate her ten-year anniversary with Raman (Neil Bhoopalam).

Raman calls the local police, led by Inspector Qureshi (Saurabh Shukla), who initially assumes Raman is the culprit because he placed the phone call. Clearly, the cops aren’t going to be much help in solving the crime, but their questions shift the narrative back to earlier in the day, before the murder.

The group of folks at the house owned by Sohrab and his wife Isha (Koel Purie) are old friends and relatives, including Sohrab’s father (M. K. Raina) and younger brother Arun (Chandrachoor Rai). There are a couple of outsiders, including Jayanti & Raman’s friend Chandra (Rajat Kapoor), a psychologist.

Our first clue that Sohrab might not be as beloved as the title suggests is the way he treats Chandra upon meeting him and learning his profession. As the group eats lunch on the vacation house lawn, Sohrab ridicules Chandra for being a psychologist, while simultaneously bullying Jayanti’s timid brother-in-law Sandeep (Sharat Katariya) for noting that the food was under-salted. Sohrab dumps salt into Sandeep’s food and forces him to eat it while lobbing attacks at Chandra and making everyone else uncomfortable.

Sohrab seems particularly bothered by men in more intellectual, unmasculine careers, as he later attacks Madhavan (Ranvir Shorey) for being a professor. Sohrab owns an unspecified business with Raman and only respects men who “make” things. He has further insults for his father and other women there. The only one who seems to escape Sohrab’s bullying is the house’s caretaker, Satya (Mahesh Sharma).

None of this is necessarily grounds for murder, though it’s hard to imagine many of the guests being truly upset that Sohrab is dead. Raman is secretly planning to ask Sohrab to sell his stake in their company — with a couple of potential buyers being among the guests — but again, that’s not really a matter of life or death.

Like many whodunits, the murderer’s reveal is kind of a letdown after an entertaining journey. Then again, the killer’s identity is perhaps less important than the relationships between characters and what led up to the crime. The characters are interesting and distinct, and their conversations carry this dialogue-heavy film. It’s particularly engaging for subtitle readers like me, as there are few breaks in the chatter (hence no opportunities to look down at one’s phone and get distracted).

Kapoor stages the film like a play, confining the activity to the house. Characters spend much of their time clustered together in the living room, with a few folks puttering in the background in the adjoining dining room. One scene finds five or six characters gossiping in the small kitchen, and the scene feels convivial, not cramped.

Where things go a bit awry is that Kapoor — and thus the film — seems to have much more sympathy for Sohrab than the character warrants. Pathak performs the man as cruel, yet Kapoor as Chandra judges him to be misunderstood. “I’m not sure he’s a bully. I mean, he pretends to be,” Chandra says of Sohrab, saying he sees him a vulnerable.

Is it even possible to pretend to be a bully without actually being a bully? The hurt feelings Sohrab causes are real. Trying to explain away Sohrab’s behavior by saying he really just hates himself doesn’t undo the damage he causes.

Instead of Everybody Loves Sohrab Handa being about an unsympathetic victim who actually deserves our sympathy, I think the film is about not realizing when old friendships have run their course. If the other characters in the movie are guilty of anything, it’s of not having the courage to be the first to walk away from someone they no longer like or respect.

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Movie Review: Accused (2026)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Netflix’s latest Indian Original movie features a lesbian couple in crisis, and its LGBTQ theme makes Accused stand out among other Indian Originals. Unfortunately, a formulaic story treatment makes the film more novel than innovative.

Comparisons between Accused and Todd Field’s 2022 movie Tár are inevitable. Both focus on a queer woman in a position of power whose career and marriage are threatened by sexual harassment allegations. Accused shifts things by making the allegations more of a mystery than a sure thing and by devoting more time to the main character’s wife’s experience.

Dr. Geetika Sen (Konkona Sen Sharma), an ace surgeon and gynecologist at London’s Chapelstone General Hospital, is known as much for her her gruff manner as for her medical talents. She’s about to leave for a big promotion at another hospital in England. On top of that, she and her wife Meera (Pratibha Ranta) are adopting a baby.

While the couple seems happy together, there are a few signs of trouble early in the story. Geetika is routinely late to events, giving the excuse that she was in surgery and out of reach — and sometimes that’s true. Their move away puts Meera’s own pediatrics career on hold, which is important, given that there’s an age gap of at least 10 years between the couple (Sen Sharma is 21 years older than Ranta in real life). Geetika feels like her more established career takes precedence, even if it prevents Meera from making similar progress in hers.

Then there’s the fact that Meera’s family back in Meerut don’t even know she’s in love with a woman, let alone married to one. An attempt to introduce Geetika to Meera’s brother while he’s in town is scuttled when Geetika fails to show up for lunch.

In the midst of everything, Chapelstone Hospital receives an anonymous complaint from a patient alleging inappropriate sexual conduct by Geetika during an exam. Geetika insists she didn’t do anything wrong, but the hospital’s head of Human Resources, Simran (Monica Mahendru), is obligated to investigate, despite their friendship.

Rumors circulate, and soon there are more anonymous complaints, including one on a social media site. Racists and homophobes are happy to pile on the insults until the hospital can’t ignore it. Geetika is put on leave. Things only get worse from there.

The social media segment is one of the worst examples of Accused falling into contemporary Hindi filmmaking tropes. Images of social media comments float on the screen around Geetika, including one that reads, “Someone tag Netflix, the pilot episode just dropped.” The visual gimmick is tired enough even without the tacky self-referentialism.

Geetika becomes convinced that someone is framing her, and her paranoia only ramps up her tendencies toward secrecy. But that prompts Meera to wonder what else her wife is hiding. Add to that all the people who are happy to see Geetika brought down a peg — aggrieved colleagues, Meera’s infatuated co-worker Angad (Aditya Nanda) — and the doubt becomes more than the relationship can bear.

The lead actors do a really wonderful job. Sen Sharma is the ideal choice to play a character who can wither with a look while still being sympathetic. Ranta plays off her in a way that highlights the power imbalance and Meera’s growing discomfort with it.

Yet the film is so straightforward and surface level that it feels less substantial than it could have. Issues around queer identity in Indian culture are mentioned but not examined. Much of the dialogue around sexual harassment is taken from workplace conduct handbooks and feels divorced from lived experience. These big issues are convenient plot setups, but that’s it.

Accused even wraps with characters monologuing about the lessons they learned throughout — as if we, the audience, didn’t just watch them learning those lessons. It would’ve been nice if director Anubhuti Kashyap and writers Sima Agarwal & Yash Keshwani had more faith that an audience that would seek out such a story could handle a more robust examination of the issues it presents.

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Movie Review: Saali Mohabbat (2025)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

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A mousy housewife narrates a story that feels a little close to home in the drama Saali Mohabbat. The film marks actor Tisca Chopra’s debut as a feature writer and director.

Quiet Kavita (Radhika Apte) lingers on the periphery of a noisy house party, fetching snacks for guests, even though she’s not the host. She catches her husband Vicky (Aalekh Kapoor) necking with one of the single women in attendance. He responds with a haughty look, rather than one of remorse.

When Kavita rejoins the party after her humiliating discovery, the group is debating whether a woman’s most important attribute is her looks. Notably, the woman Vicky was canoodling is considered prettier than Kavita. This prompts Kavita to speak up, telling a story of a woman in a distant city whose husband was unfaithful.

The woman in Kavita’s story is named Smita, and she’s also played by Apte. Smita is married to Pankaj (Anshumaan Pushkar), a handsome, jobless drunk with a gambling problem. He pushes her to sell a property she inherited to pay off his debts, but she’s loath to part with it.

Smita’s beautiful cousin Shalini (Sauraseni Maitra) gets a job in town, and Smita offers her a place to stay. This is a mistake. Pankaj flirts with Shalini, and she reciprocates. It’s not long before they are running around behind Smita’s back.

Pankaj isn’t the only one smitten with Shalini. A cop named Ratan (Divyenndu) dotes on her, and she lets him as well. Ratan’s a nice guy, but he’s greedy. He’s on the payroll of the gangster Gajendra (Anurag Kashyap) — the same man Pankaj owes money to.

Periodically, the action cuts between the depiction of Smita’s story and Kavita at the party as she retells it. Vicky listens, growing more concerned as Kavita recounts what happened after Smita discovered the affair. Is Kavita really the timid woman he thought he’d married?

Nothing that happens in the film can be classified as a twist since Chopra barely tries to disguise things. She’s content to let a seasoned performer like Apte hold the audience’s attention, which she does as capably as ever. The rest of the cast gets the job done, but none of the performances are particularly noteworthy.

The world-building in Saali Mohabbat is decent, albeit a little thin. Smita’s closest ally is an older man played by Sharat Saxena, and it’s not totally clear what his relation is to her. Is he her deceased dad’s friend? The family gardener? Both? Smita has a degree in botany and is always surrounded by plants, which makes the film visually interesting, at least. It’s not a bad effort for a first feature film.

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Movie Review: Greater Kalesh (2025)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Greater Kalesh on Netflix

Netflix’s enjoyable Diwali movie Greater Kalesh has real affection for its characters and doesn’t overstay its welcome. Director Aditya Chandiok and writer Ritu Mago wisely opted to make their film a “featurette” with a runtime of under one hour rather than try to stretch too small a story to feature length.

Twenty-something Twinkle Handa (Ahsaas Channa) returns to her family home in Delhi to surprise her parents — dad Ranjan (Happy Ranajit) and mom Sunita (Supriya Shukla) — and younger brother Ankush (Poojan Chhabra) for Diwali. Before she can even open the door, she hears the sounds of arguing and pottery breaking.

Her folks are certainly surprised to see her, and happy as well. They try to pretend that their argument was nothing serious, but Ankush spills the beans. Turns out, the Handas don’t actually own their house. They’ve lived in it for free for almost 30 years due to a deal with Ranjan’s business partner, but now the real owner wants to sell. The family is about to be homeless.

Also, the whole neighborhood knows about Ankush’s “secret” relationship with an older woman, and Mom is sick of being gossiped about. She’s planning to move to Bangalore to live with Twinkle, which is news to Twinkle, of course.

Twinkle is furious with everyone for hiding things from her, ignoring her own hypocrisy for not telling her family her own secret: she has a serious boyfriend. Fueled by anger, Twinkle sets about trying to fix everyone’s problems, whether they like it or not — which is probably why everyone was so reluctant to tell her anything in the first place.

Chandiok and Mago do a wonderful job portraying a family in a very specific stage of development. Both of the kids are adults, and Twinkle even lives independently, yet no one has an accurate perception of how mature the kids actually are. Twinkle overestimates her worldliness, while the parents still try to shield their kids from their problems. Relationships within the Handa family are evolving in ways none of them really understand, and the changing dynamic hits a boiling point during their Diwali party.

The cast does a fine job making the family relatable. While plots driven by unnecessary secrets can sometimes drag, the actors successfully convey why every character feels like secrecy is their best option. Other than a silly subplot about a thief slowly making off with the family’s sentimental valuables, everyone acts in a way that is understandable.

The knock against Greater Kalesh is that it has a tendency toward soapiness. From Twinkle’s voiceovers to the musical cues to the lighting, all of it makes the film cornier than it needs to be. Thankfully, the filmmakers knew just how much story they had, and the movie ends before the soapy style gets too grating.

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Movie Review: Kesari Chapter 2 (2025)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Kesari Chapter 2 on Hulu

Kesari Chapter 2: The Untold Story of Jallianwala Bagh is a film with an agenda. There’s nothing wrong with that, per se, but it’s hard to ignore how deliberately it pushes its audience to feel a certain way.

This movie was belatedly titled as a spiritual successor to 2019’s Kesari to capitalize on name recognition. The only things the films have in common are Akshay Kumar in the lead role and a shared cadre of producers: Karan Johar, Hiroo Yash Johar, Apoorva Mehta, and Aruna Bhatia.

Kesari Chapter 2 opens with a moving recreation of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre in 1919. Thousands of Indians at a rally in Amritsar are cornered and fired upon by British troops, under the direction of General Reginald Dyer (Simon Paisley Day). More than 1,500 people of all ages are killed, either from bullet wounds, crush injuries, or drowning in a well where they leapt to escape the shooting.

We see the mass murder from the perspective of a teenage boy, Pargat Singh (Krish Rao), who loses his mother and younger sister that day. Given the technological limitations of the time, the ruling British government is able to suppress the truth and frame the massacre as a response to an armed uprising.

As the government assembles a commission to investigate the incident, Pargat stands outside the gates, holding up paintings depicting what really happened. He’s ignored by all of the commissioners save one: Justice Chettoor Sankaran Nair (Kumar). Nair’s legal work on behalf of the British has earned him a knighthood and invitations to swanky parties, but his participation on the committee reminds him that the Brits see him as a useful tool, not an equal.

When Pargat dies, the young man’s cause is taken up by rookie lawyer Dilreet Gill (Ananya Panday). Her criticism of Nair for going along with commission’s sham findings — as well as his own remorse over the boy’s death — lead him to join her in filling suit against General Dyer on the charges of genocide.

The events thus far, some of the characters, and the court arguments that follow are amalgamations of various historical incidents and figures. Kesari Chapter 2 isn’t presenting a history lesson but stoking the fires of moral outrage. That’s any movie’s right to do, but it feels fair in this case. There’s general agreement today as to what happened at Jallianwala Bagh, and the British government and monarchy have never formally apologized for the massacre.

Kesari Chapter 2 is actually pretty good at what it’s trying to accomplish. The Brits are racist schemers, and their victims are sympathetic and plentiful. It’s fun to watch Nair get the better of his adversaries in court, including the crown’s mercenary attorney Neville McKinley (R. Madhavan). Indian legal dramas can be confusing for those not versed in the court system, but great English subtitles by Jahan Singh Bakshi and Anantika Mehra make it easy to follow.

Still, the movie occasionally breaks the narrative spell, reminding the audience that it’s trying to make us feel specific emotions. Nair’s expletive-filled outburst in court is directed as much at the audience as at the judge to whom he’s speaking. It would have been nice had writer-director Karan Singh Tyagi let viewers come by their feelings organically.

But that would have required more comprehensive world-building, which Kesari Chapter 2 lacks. Nair is the center of the universe, and all the other characters feel thinly drawn. Panday’s Dillreet gets a few good moments, but Regina Cassandra as Nair’s wife Parvathy hardly needs to be in the movie. Thankfully, Kumar does a solid job carrying the film solo.

The spell is also broken by some odd music choices by composer Shashwat Sachdev. One recurring theme is obviously based on Carl Orff’s “O Fortuna”. Random electric guitar riffs feel strange in 1919 India. And when Nair makes a penis joke at Dyer’s expense, I swear it’s punctuated by something meant to mimic rapper Lil Jon’s signature “Yeah!”.

If nothing else, Kesari Chapter 2 is a movie without pretense. It’s not great, but it is effective.

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Movie Review: Logout (2025)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Logout on ZEE5

An influencer loses control of his life when he loses his phone in the tech thriller Logout.

Babil Khan plays Pratyush, better known as “Pratman” to his 9.9 million social media followers. Hitting 10 million subscribers is more than just a milestone for his comedy and lifestyle channel. It would open him up to seriously lucrative advertising contracts, which is saying something, since he already appears on billboards shilling a vegan food brand.

His slavish devotion to his phone is taking a toll on his real-life relationships, ruining his ability to focus on those in front of him as he tends to his online persona. He’s also outsourced many of the mundane duties of life to his phone, whether it’s the smart devices that control his lights, the food delivery apps through which his orders food, or the contact list where he stores phone numbers so he doesn’t have to remember them.

After a drunken night out, he wakes up and can’t find his phone. A woman contacts him using a messaging app on his computer, saying that she met a cab driver who has his phone. Pratyush foolishly gives her his phone’s password to facilitate wiring the cab driver money to return it. Only there is no cab driver. The woman — who we eventually learn is named Sakshi (Nimisha Nair) — is a super-fan of Pratman, and now she has his phone, with access to all of his accounts and private information.

Most of the film is Khan acting alone in Pratyush’s apartment, with the influencer tethered to his messenger app as Sakshi threatens to destroy his carefully curated brand and harm his family members. This is Khan’s most confident performance in his young career, and he displays great range. Nair does an equally fine job in a role that is almost exclusively voice-acted. She finds a creepy balance between sweet and menacing.

The story setup is very similar to Vikramaditya Motwane’s 2024 Netflix Original film CTRL, which saw Ananya Pandey acting mostly solo while playing an influencer who gives control of her computer to a malicious AI program. CTRL leaned more heavily into telling its story visually via screens and apps than Logout does. Logout also features a more traditional villain — one bad person taking advantage of another — whereas Pandey’s character in CTRL is victimized by a faceless corporation.

Those differences in scope and presentation give the edge to CTRL, if one had to chose between two similar films. But one does not, and Logout is an effective cautionary tale in its own right. If nothing else, it’s a reminder to put your phone down every once in a while and focus on the people most important to you. And memorize their phone numbers.

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Movie Review: I Want to Talk (2024)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Director Shoojit Sircar’s drama I Want to Talk features a career-defining performance by Abhishek Bachchan, but the screenplay by Ritesh Shah feels incomplete.

The film is based on Arjun Sen’s autobiographical book Raising a Father, though it comes with the standard opening note that it isn’t a strict retelling. Bachchan plays Arjun, a ruthless marketing executive living in southern California. He’s in the middle of a divorce from his wife Indrani, with whom he shares an elementary-school-aged daughter named Reya (Pearle Dey).

A coughing fit during a business presentation sends Arjun to the hospital, where it’s determined that he has laryngeal cancer. He leaves in a fog of denial, but a follow-up visit finds cancer cells in his colon as well. Multiple surgeries leave him unable to work, costing him his job, right as his divorce settlement costs him his house. He keeps his Cadillac but downsizes to rental home that has seen better days.

Throughout his medical trials, Arjun tries to shield Reya from the seriousness of his condition while maintaining a busy custody schedule of Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other weekend. This is where the screenplay struggles. According to the movie, Arjun is able to manage all of his appointments and recovery time without ever talking to his ex-wife about Reya. We only ever see Indrani once during a meeting with their lawyers. From a purely logistical standpoint this would be impossible, and that goes double for trying to explain to a kid who isn’t even ten why daddy can’t lift her up after surgery or why he’s so sleepy all the time.

With Arjun’s ex-wife being a void in the narrative, he’s forced to find support in other places. That includes his grumpy handyman Johny, played by Johny Lever in a role that shows he’s a more talented actor than we get to see in the over-the-top comic roles he typically plays. There’s also Arjun’s dismissive surgeon Dr. Deb (Jayant Kripalani), who comes to tolerate Arjun’s pestering.

Best of all is Dr. Deb’s nurse, Nancy (Kristin Goddard). She sympathetic but won’t let Arjun off the hook when he gets down on himself. Goddard delivers a short monologue that is equal parts heartfelt and hilarious. It’s a highlight of the film.

Another highlight is the evocative score by George Joseph & Koyna. It’s sparingly used but effective. Sircar relies a lot on ambient sounds and visuals of the stark, mountainous landscape near California’s Lake Hemet to set the scene.

Although the world of I Want to Talk is atmospheric, it doesn’t feel full enough. The plot jumps forward several years, and a lot of information about how Arjun manages his life is lost in the transition. We see little of the growth in Arjun’s relationships with those closest to him; they are suddenly friends instead of adversaries. Even important characters feel like they blink out of existence until Arjun needs their help.

The exception is Reya, who is played as a teenager by capable debutant Ahliya Bamroo. Sircar gives Reya enough scenes to establish her as her own person within Arjun’s story. She’s a kid finding herself while navigating a tricky relationship with her father, one further complicated by by his medical problems. But again, her continuing ignorance about his condition after more than a dozen surgeries beggars belief.

All that said, this is Abhishek Bachchan’s movie, and he carries the weight of it gracefully. It’s a performance that is challenging not just emotionally but physically. His movements are slow and pained, evoking memories of another character burdened by frailty in a Shoojit Sircar movie: Abhishek’s father Amitabh Bachchan in Piku. Sircar shows great compassion for people with physical challenges in the way he directs his actors, and both Bachchans interpreted their characters beautifully.

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Movie Review: Agni (2024)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Agni has novelty on its side, as Hindi films about firefighters are rare. The film’s action scenes are exciting, but the family drama interspersed throughout drags.

Set in 2017, Agni follows the crew of a Mumbai firehouse, led by their chief, Vitthal (Pratik Gandhi). A series of high-rise fires cause massive damage and the death of a firefighter. It’s not long before the station’s investigator Avni (Saiyami Kher) finds a connection between accelerants found at multiple scenes. It looks like the city has an arsonist on the loose, and a skilled one at that.

Meanwhile, the police are looking for the perpetrator of a daring daytime assassination of a politician. The investigation is led by Vitthal’s brother-in-law Samit (Divyenndu), one of Mumbai’s top cops. Samit and his officers beat and threaten to kill suspects until they get a lead connecting them to some of the burned buildings. If the police and firefighters work together, they can solve the case in no time, right?

Not so fast. In the film, the police look down on firefighters, who get a much smaller share of public accolades and government funding compared to the cops. This feeling of disrespect is heightened for Vitthal, whose pre-teen son Amya (Kabir Shah) idolizes his uncle Samit.

As someone who lives outside India, I feel at a disadvantage because I’m not sure if public disrespect for firefighters is real and if there’s a rivalry with the police or they are just conceits of the movie. If they are, then the story may have had an underlying levels of context easily understood by locals. If it’s not, filmmaker Rahul Dholakia’s script — co-written with Vijay Maurya — needed to elaborate on how this disrespect manifests. The film is light on specifics.

Most of the inter-agency disrespect in the story comes from mean-spirited jokes directed at Vitthal at a housewarming party in Sumit’s new luxury apartment. That party scene is awkward, as is a family dinner at a Japanese restaurant. The rivalry between Sumit and Vitthal isn’t interesting, and it takes away from the real source of Vitthal’s hurt: the fact that Amya has grown up and no longer sees his dad as the coolest guy on the planet. The father-son angle has much more emotional appeal but doesn’t get enough screentime.

Even more time is wasted on scenes inside Sumit’s police station, where he and his cronies beat confessions out of people. If the story is about firefighters, focus on the firefighters.

Agni is at its best when Vitthal’s crew is actively battling blazes. The action scenes are well-executed and exciting, with lots of real flames. Any CGI is integrated so well as not to draw attention to itself, and the editing makes it seem as though the characters are in real danger.

Gandhi does a fine job as the character holding all the narrative threads together. He’s at his best in scenes with other firefighters like Avni, his friend Jazz (Udit Arora), and fellow station chief Mahadev (Jitendra Joshi). Sai Tamhankar gives an understated performance as Vitthal’s wife Ruku. I wish she’d played a bigger role.

Despite some slow parts in the first half, Agni‘s story pace picks up as it nears its conclusion. Dholakia’s screenplay sprinkles enough action scenes throughout to reward one’s continued attention.

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Movie Review: Vijay 69 (2024)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Vijay 69 on Netflix

Vijay 69 is a compact slice-of-life flick that’s funny and touching. The new Netflix Original movie created by Yash Raj Entertainment — the OTT arm of Yash Raj Films — fits perfectly on a streaming service.

Anupam Kher stars as the titular 69-year-old Vijay. A neighbor sees him jump into the ocean for a late night swim and assumes it’s a suicide attempt. Curmudgeonly Vijay turns up at church the next morning in the middle of his own funeral.

Even more upsetting to Vijay than being declared dead after only a few hours of fruitless searching is the eulogy his best friend Fali (Chunky Panday) wrote for him. The speech mentions that Vijay was good at rummy and once won a garba dance contest, but that’s about it.

Vijay is incensed that the eulogy didn’t mention the bronze medal he won in a national swimming competition, but that happened decades ago. When he sits down to write his own list of achievements, he can’t think of anything else. Though he has good friends, a caring daughter and grandson, and memories of his beloved wife Anna, he realizes he’s been running out the clock since she died from cancer fifteen years ago.

Inspiration for how to beef up his eulogy comes when an 18-year-old boy in his apartment colony starts training to become the youngest Indian to complete a triathlon. A quick internet search reveals that Vijay would beat the current record holder for oldest Indian triathlete by two years if he competed. Even though no one believes he can do it, Vijay vows to finish the triathlon.

The conflict in Vijay 69 is absurd in a good way. Vijay becomes rivals with the teenage athlete Aditya (Mihir Ahuja, who played Jughead in The Archies). Vijay trains under the eccentric Coach Kumar (Vrajesh Hirjee), who has local kids pelt Vijay with water balloons to make him run faster. As the old man swims laps, Coach shouts, “You’re a sea snake! You’re a sea otter! You’re an underwater mountain goat!”

Writer-director Akshay Roy (Meri Pyaari Bindu) clearly had fun with the dialogue in Vijay 69, making Vijay’s foul mouth a continual source of laughs. One can only imagine the challenge subtitler Neena Kiss faced trying to come up with English equivalents for Vijay’s colorful language.

Kher does a nice job humanizing Vijay, making him more than just a grumpy Gus. He’s vulnerable and openly shows gratitude for his friends. The unexpected alliance he eventually forms with Aditya is quite sweet.

Panday stops just short of making Fali into a caricature, allowing the affection his character feels for Vijay to shine through. Hirjee is delightful in a role I wished was bigger.

Vijay 69 suffers most when it tries to be a more conventional sports movie. Filmmaker Roy doesn’t trust the drama inherent in sport to carry the story, and instead relies on too many shots of characters struggling to increase dramatic tension. After the umpteenth closeup of Vijay looking like he’s going to have a heart attack while riding a bike, the emotional effectiveness wanes.

That said, the film’s sub-two-hour runtime keeps it from overstaying its welcome, even if it does become heavy-handed at the end. Vijay 69 is a nice story that’s small enough in scale to suit at-home viewing but worthy of one’s undivided attention.

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