Tag Archives: Hindi

Movie Review: Saali Mohabbat (2025)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Saali Mohabbat on ZEE5

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: War 2 (2025)

1.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch War 2 on Netflix

It was always going to be hard for a sequel to reach the heights attained by War in 2019, but War 2 crashes hard.

Years after the original, India’s best soldier — well, one of India’s best, given that the War films are part of the Yash Raj Films Spy Universe of movies — Kabir (Hrithik Roshan) has left India’s R&AW spy agency and works as a mercenary. Kabir’s swoony intro in the original film is the stuff of legend, so how does he make his first appearance in the sequel?

By staring down a clunky-looking CGI wolf.

The scene somehow gets worse as Kabir faces off against a bunch of ninjas in a Japanese castle. Unlike Khalid’s (Tiger Shroff) tightly choreographed, dynamic opening fight scene in War, Kabir dodges swords in slow motion. He punches and chops dozens of helpless dopes with rapid edits between shots. There’s no sense of flow to the fight since we rarely see Kabir execute more than two moves in sequence.

Kabir’s assassination of a Japanese mob boss catches the eye of a syndicate known as Kali. Made up of wealthy representatives from India and its neighboring countries, the group wants to end democracy and take over the region — and they want Kabir to help them.

Of course this was all part of Kabir’s plan to infiltrate them, coordinated by his mentor from the original film Colonel Luthra (Ashutosh Rana). What they didn’t expect was that Kali would force Kabir to kill Luthra to prove his loyalty. Kabir does, just days after Luthra’s daughter Kavya (Kiara Advani) is awarded a medal from the Air Force for bravery as a combat pilot.

Colonel Vikrant Kaul (Anil Kapoor) takes over Luthra’s post as the head of R&AW. He grudgingly lets Kavya in on the hunt for Kabir, but he’s got an ace up his sleeve — a rogue soldier named Vikram (NTR Jr) who’s Kabir’s equal in skill and tenacity.

The Indian spies track Kabir to Spain, where he’s meeting his adopted teenage daughter Ruhi (Arista Mehta). The girl exists purely to call back to the first film and set up an action sequence. In grand Bollywood tradition, she is never mentioned again.

The Spain action sequence is inspired very, very heavily by Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One. Instead of Tom Cruise and Haley Atwell in a Fiat careening through the streets of Rome chased by Pom Klementieff in an armored vehicle, we get Kabir and Ruhi in a Mini Cooper pursued through Salamanca by Vikram in a Humvee. The duo’s little car bounces down a bunch of stairs and eventually winds up on top of a speeding train about to crash — another sequence from the same Mission: Impossible movie.

There are plenty more plot parallels with the first War movie to come, with twists, betrayals, and secret relationships from the past. Kabir has his requisite dance sequences with both Vikram and Kavya (undeniably the best parts of the film). The whole thing ends with a fight in an ice cave, just like the original War did.

War 2 collapses under the immense pressure on it to be new and fresh while also being the same as War. The absence of Siddharth Anand — who directed War and co-wrote both the screenplay and the story — from War 2 makes it clear just how responsible he was for the first film’s success. Aditya Chopra is again credited for creating the sequel’s story, Shridhar Raghavan returns as screenwriter, and Abbas Tyrewala is once more responsible for the writing the dialogues. The continuity they bring is evident, but there’s no life in the sequel.

The new kid in town is Ayan Mukerji in the director’s seat. He earned his spot by directing the big-budget supernatural action spectacle Brahmāstra Part One – Shiva, but that was a passion project of his own creation. Here he connects all the dots, but the film lacks sparks — except for those created when Vikram inexplicably competes in a Formula 1 auto race in a powerboat.

All of the actors are fine, but that’s it. They’re all better than this.

War 2 is just too silly for its own good. No one person is solely responsible for its failure. Rather, it’s the product of a bunch of talented people turning in subpar work on a project too expensive and high-profile to warrant anything less than their best.

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Movie Review: Son of Sardaar 2 (2025)

2 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Son of Sardaar 2 on Netflix

Hidden within Son of Sardaar 2‘s overstuffed story are some wonderfully executed performances — but, boy, do you have to sort through a lot of cruft to find them.

The sequel to 2012’s enjoyable Son of Sardaar finds naive nice guy Jassi Singh Randhawa (Ajay Devgn) waiting in Punjab for his British visa to come through so he can join his wife of 11 years, Dimple (Neeru Bajwa). When he finally gets it and reunites with her in Scotland, she immediately asks for a divorce.

Elsewhere in Scotland, a band of Pakistani-British musicians — Rabia (Mrunal Thakur), her step-daughter Saba (Roshni Walia), Mehwish (Kubbra Sait), and transgender woman Gul (Deepak Dobriyal) — is in trouble. Their leader Danish (Chunky Panday) — who is Rabia’s husband and Saba’s father — took off with a Russian woman, forcing Rabia to take charge of the group.

A chance encounter between Rabia and Jassi proves beneficial for both of them, even if she does stab him in the hand with a fork when they meet. Rabia gives Jassi a place to stay in exchange for pretending to be her husband and Saba’s dad. See, Saba wants to marry her rich boyfriend Gogi (Sahil Mehta), but his strict father Raja (Ravi Kishan) insists on meeting Saba’s family first. Not only does Jassi have to pretend to be Saba’s dad but a former soldier as well, while the rest of the women pretend to be Indian, Hindu, and definitely not musicians.

These are already a lot of characters to keep track of, and it gets worse when Gogi’s family is introduced. There’s his mom Premlata (Ashwini Kalsekar), his uncles Tony (the late Mukul Dev in his final role) and Titu (Vindu Dara Singh), and his white step-grandmother Kim (Emma Kate Vansittart). The step-grandmother’s backstory brings several other characters into the mix, and Sanjay Mishra shows up with a bunch of sidekicks as well. Heck, the movie even starts with Jassi dancing with Dimple and their four children, but that turns out to be a dream and they don’t actually have kids. There are too many people as-is without introducing imaginary ones.

New characters are dropped into the film following abrupt cuts, and it takes a while to figure out how they connect to the main story. Subplots sprawl and expand while previously introduced characters get less and less to do. The lack of focus forces the audience to keep track of threads and relationships when they should be allowed to sit back and laugh. Then again, there aren’t many standout bits, save one near the end involving Dimple.

Son of Sardaar 2 isn’t all bad, thanks to the actors. Devgn is still endearing as the innocent guy who stumbles into trouble. Thakur’s feisty energy pairs well opposite Devgn and keeps the story moving. Sait plays her musician character as charmingly caffeinated, and Kishan’s straitlaced performance as the strict dad defines the stakes for Jassi and crew.

The delightful surprise of the film is Dobriyal’s portrayal of Gul. Dobriyal is a tremendous actor with plenty of stellar work on his resume, but the fact that he brings such gravity and tenderness to a character in a rather silly comedy is impressive. Gul is the voice of reason and authority when things get too chaotic. I can’t speak to the authenticity of the way she’s written as a trans woman (there’s some dialogue about the man inside her versus the woman inside her that feels odd), but Dobriyal plays her respectfully. Her being trans fuels some jokes, but she is never the butt of the joke. Dobriyal won’t let her be.

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Which Scenes Were Censored in Homebound?

On the day of Homebound‘s global theatrical release, Indian journalist Aroon Deep published a list of edits demanded by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) before the film could play in India. These changes weren’t required for the international theatrical release of the movie, and audiences elsewhere were able to watch the original version. I saw the unedited version of Homebound, and I loved it.

Fans across the globe should care about this, because Homebound‘s streaming partner Netflix is likely to carry the edited version. [Update: Netflix is carrying the censored version.] The Indian government presumably wouldn’t allow the original to stream on Netflix in India, and it wouldn’t make logistical sense to carry a separate version just for subscribers outside of India.

Given the sensitive nature of the film’s subject — discrimination faced by Indian Muslims and Dalits — what kinds of changes did the CBFC demand from Homebound? Here’s the list Aroon Deep published on September 26:

A few of these are standard requests, such as showing the title in both English and Hindi and adding alcohol warnings. But a number have to do with changes to dialogue and visuals, some of which could alter or dilute filmmaker Neeraj Ghaywan’s intent. Note how vague many of the instructions are, like Cut No. 10: “Deleted and suitably replaced the visuals of news.” There’s no way to tell what was cut or how it differs from what replaced it.

Since Aroon Deep and I have both seen Homebound in the versions available in our respective countries — him the Indian edit and me the international original — we compared notes to see what was changed. I’m mostly reliant on English subtitles over spoken Hindi, so any dialogue is from the translated English subtitles unless otherwise specified. We looked at four key cuts:

Cut No. 4: “Deleted the dialogue ‘Aloo gobi… khate hain’ at TCR 11.33”

This is from a scene where an older Muslim cop encourages Shoaib to go work in Dubai. All the note tells us is that the original dialogue was something like: “Aloo gobi… is called.” What the cop says is, “At least over there, no one will ask you, ‘Is your aloo gobi halal, too?'” That’s what I could gather from my limited Hindi. The English subtitle is translated as, “At least over there, no one will ask you, ‘Do you slaughter your vegetables, too?’.”

Cut No. 9: “Deleted the scene at TCR 01.22.19”

Though much of the scene where Chandan pretends to be of a higher caste in order to find out his exam results from a police administrator who complains about the quota system is the same, one closing line appears to be absent. The administrator — who knows Chandan is lying — says as he’s leaving, “If a pig wears a lion’s skin, it doesn’t become a lion.”

Cut No. 10: “Deleted and suitably replaced the visuals of news.”

A news report explains how migrant workers are forced to return home on foot due to prolonged COVID-19 quarantine measures that closed businesses. A closing segment of the report is missing from the edited version: “Last week, some officials accused a Muslim missionary group of being a ‘super-spreader.’ Calling this fake news, the opposition condemned the allegations and urged citizens not to spread rumors on social media.”

Cut No. 13: “Modified the visuals of the car passing by at 01:38.20 mins. approx.”

As Shoaib and Chandan walk along a deserted road, a car passes them but does not stop. The car in the edited version is a plain white SUV, but the car in the original had a red light on top, indicating it to be some kind of government or police vehicle.

Thanks again to Aroon Deep for making the censor sheet public and helping me figure out what changed from the original. You can follow his reporting on X (née Twitter) here.

Movie Review: Homebound (2025)

4 Stars (out of 4)

This is a review of the uncensored version of Homebound. Here is my article on Which Scenes Were Censored in Homebound.

Watch the censored version of Homebound on Netflix

Two best friends find their future opportunities limited by discrimination, poverty, and systemic shortcomings in the touching drama Homebound. India’s selection committee picked a worthy submission to the 98th Oscars.

The film opens in North India around 2017-18. Best friends Shoaib (Ishaan Khatter) and Chandan (Vishal Jethwa) want to become police officers, a feat that first requires battling their way through a crowded train platform before they can even reach the admissions testing site. The crowd they navigate consists of hundreds of other young men and women vying for the same posts — a fraction of the 2.5 million applicants from across the country for just 3,500 job openings.

Shoaib is Muslim, and Chandan is from one of the Scheduled Castes. They’re sick of being looked down on by higher caste Hindus and figure that being cops armed with batons will put an end to the disrespect they’re accustomed to.

A year goes by with no word on the exam results, leaving the guys in limbo. They’ve invested so much in this dream that taking any other job seems like giving up. But there’s a hole in the roof of Chandan’s family home, and Shoaib’s dad needs knee surgery so he can get back to work in the fields. The guys can’t wait on their dream forever.

Writer-director Neeraj Ghaywan is so effective at communicating how immediate the needs of the poor are. With no financial cushion, problems quickly become emergencies. Even when the government creates opportunities intended to level the playing field — such as reserving university spots for those from castes historically denied admission — taking advantage of them requires planning and sacrifice from family members who don’t have much left to give.

One of those family members is Chandan’s older sister Vaishali (Harshika Parmar). Chandan opts to go to college to be with a woman he met at the police exam, Sudha (Janhvi Kapoor). When Chandan later drops out, Vaishali points out that he’s squandering opportunities their traditional parents would never let her have. He’s flitting between uncertain futures while she’s stuck working as a bathroom attendant at an elementary school. He needs to settle on a way to contribute to the family and stick with it.

The story takes a major turn when the guys get jobs in a garment factory over 1,000 kilometers away from home. They earn steady money that gives their families stability. Then COVID-19 hits. The government institutes same-day lockdowns that last for weeks, shuttering businesses. As money runs out, migrant workers like Shoaib and Chandan are forced to make their way home, sometimes on foot.

It was journalist Basharat Peer’s reporting on such cases for the New York Times that inspired Ghaywan to write Homebound. In fleshing out backstories for his main characters, Ghaywan draws together the various threads that create the net that traps people like Shoaib and Chandan in poverty. Sudha represents someone able to take advantage of the government’s efforts to remediate caste discrimination, but the mistreatment experienced by the guys show just how easy it is for bigots to undercut those efforts.

The cast of Homebound is wonderful. Khatter’s spent the last few years proving why he’s probably the best actor of his generation, but Jethwa makes a compelling case for why he should be included in the discussion. The friendship between Shoaib and Chandan feels so real, through all of its ups and downs.

Kapoor uses her supporting role to show just how impactful she can be when not playing a lead. Parmar likewise stands out even though she’s only in a few scenes. Vaishali is pragmatic, but her advice is also clearly motivated by her own emotional baggage. Both sets of the boys’ parents are played beautifully played as well.

Ghaywan’s sophomore effort after 2015’s terrific film Masaan was a decade in the making but worth the wait. Homebound is insightful and thought-provoking, painting a vivid picture of the challenges faced by those living in poverty in contemporary India.

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Movie Review: Saiyaara (2025)

3 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Saiyaara on Netflix

Cinema needs the occasional overwrought, youthful, romantic melodrama, and director Mohit Suri has made it his mission to supply them. Saiyaara nicely exemplifies the sub-genre thanks to earnest performances by its talented leading couple.

We’re introduced to the deep-feeling poet Vaani Batra (Aneet Padda) as she’s stood up at her courthouse wedding by a jerk named Mahesh. She’s so devastated that she passes out. She spends six months convalescing at the home of her supportive, progressive parents — Mom is played by Geeta Agarwal and Dad by Rajesh Kumar — before reentering society.

Mahesh’s betrayal zapped Vaani’s ability to write, and she hopes she can get it back by doing celebrity interviews for an entertainment website. On the way to her job interview for the site Buzzlist, she sees a handsome bad boy on a motorcycle. Later, the same guy hands over the journal she left outside the office — Vaani has a habit of forgetting things — before beating up one of the site’s writers for an insufficiently flattering article about his band.

The angry young man is Krish (Ahaan Panday), lead singer of the rock group Josh. Krish has temper issues stemming from his mother’s death when he was a kid, followed by his father’s turn to alcoholism, which resulted in Krish becoming his caretaker. Krish wants the world to give him all the love and adoration he missed out on as a child, and he wants it now.

Having peeked at Vaani’s journal before returning it, Krish realizes she’s got talent. He uses some of her lyrics in a song and proposes a partnership. Vaani isn’t sure she’s up to the task, but spending time having fun with Krish restores her creative abilities.

Naturally, the two fall in love. Thanks to their songwriting partnership, the band becomes a sensation, putting fame finally within Krish’s reach. Their bliss is short-lived, however, as Vaani experiences health problems that change the terms of their relationship and impact Krish’s career path.

Not to diminish the severity of Vaani’s condition, but it’s presented in a very film-friendly way, making it more of a plot point than an in-depth look at a specific condition. It’s meant to raise the stakes during a period in the characters’ lives when their emotions are already experienced at maximum volume.

The emotional intensity in the story almost makes Saiyaara feel more like a movie about teenagers than one about people in their mid-twenties. Their fervor feels like an outwardly expressed version of what the characters in Twilight were supposedly holding back via Kristen Stewart’s and Robert Pattinson’s, um, restrained performances. But Bollywood doesn’t make movies about teenagers, so instead we have college graduates yelling, “I love you, Krish Kapoor” at the top of their lungs.

That said, the passionate performances work because Padda and Panday play their parts with complete sincerity. There’s no trace of ironic detachment, and it helps to build a world where where passion can move mountains. There’s an idea in the film that one could write a song so heartfelt that it could bring a lover back no matter how far the distance between them. It’s similar to themes in some Japanese role playing video games (JRPGs) of the power of human will to alter the very nature of the universe and time itself. I really enjoyed that aspect of Saiyaara.

The undeniable takeaway from the film is the star potential of both Padda and Panday. They seem much more experienced than their collective three IMDb acting credits (all Padda’s) would indicate. She performs with a charming combination of vulnerability and strength, and he brings depth to a character that could have been one-note. They have electric chemistry together, and the film is quite sexy as a result.

As in Mohit Suri’s 2013 film about a troubled rockstar’s romance — Aashiqui 2 — music plays a central role in Saiyaara. Again, power ballads carry the soundtrack, but I like the way they work in Saiyaara better. The yearning in the title track (sung by Faheem Abdullah) fits the notion of being able to reach a loved one across time and space. The soundtrack propels the story forward and keeps it from ever losing momentum.

Saiyaara isn’t the most unique movie — it can’t be, as it’s inspired by the 2004 Korean film A Moment to Remember. But it scratches a certain itch for stories about undying devotion and all-consuming passion. What a bonus if we get two new Bollywood stars out of it.

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Movie Review: Songs of Paradise (2025)

3.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Songs of Paradise on Amazon Prime

Writer-director Danish Renzu’s love-letter to Kashmiri music history is vibrant and sweet. A charming cast recreates a world on the cusp of progress. Songs of Paradise is a delight.

Though not a biographical film, Renzu’s story is heavily inspired by the life of Raj Begum, Kashmir’s first female radio singer who died in 2016. Her achievements won her not just fame but also one of the Indian government’s highest civilian honors: the Padma Shree.

In Songs of Paradise, the character inspired by Raj Begum goes by the stage name Noor Begum (Soni Razdan). A framing device finds Noor in the modern day narrating her life to graduate student Rumi (Taaruk Raina), who’s writing a thesis on the history of popular music in Kashmir (and serving as an onscreen avatar for Renzu himself).

Before she started singing professionally in 1954, Noor Begum was simply Zeba Akhtar (Saba Azad). She grew up in Srinagar with her open-minded father (played by Bashir Lone) and conservative mother, Hameeda (Sheeba Chaddha).

Zeba earns money cleaning house for a music teacher, Master Ji (Shishir Sharma). Master Ji has no idea Zeba can sing, until he overhears her performing for a group of women at a family function. Recognizing her potential, Master Ji offers to train Zeba for free. He’s so impressed with her ability that he signs her up for the local radio station’s annual singing contest — something no other woman has done before.

“Freedom and progress were in the air,” the film notes. But not everyone is ready for change — not even Zeba herself. She hides her music lessons from her traditional mother under the guise of extra work hours. While Zeba enjoys her studies, she has no ambitions for them to lead to anything else. But she competes in the contest and wins decisively.

Her victory comes with a new job, performing songs live on the radio with the in-house band. Zeba’s presence causes upheaval in the male-dominated space, but soon everyone realizes the boost her heavenly voice gives the whole station. In trying to make the situation more equitable for her, Zeba champions change that makes things fairer for everyone, such as demanding grumpy station owner Mr. Kaul (Armaan Khera) read the names of every participating musician after every broadcast.

Zeba is interesting because she’s not trying to blaze a trail. Master Ji and her father want her to succeed because they care for her, and the station’s staff lyricist Azaad (Zain Khan Durrani) wants Kashmir to catch up with Bombay’s thriving film-music industry. But there’s a toll paid by trailblazers and those around them, and Zeba seems to know this. That’s the main reason she adopts the stage name Noor Begum. Yes, she’s afraid of what will happen if her mother finds out, but she’s also protective of her parents. Srinagar isn’t a huge town, and gossip travels fast.

Through her stern performance as Hameeda, Sheeba Chaddha makes sure we understand exactly why Zeba is scared of her mom. Hameeda levels a stare at Zeba that’s so withering that the film should come with a warning to protect delicate houseplants. Yet, when Noor Begum’s real identity is discovered, all of Zeba’s mother’s fears about social consequences come true.

Thankfully, Zeba and her family are saved by her greatest champion: Azaad, the station’s in-house lyricist. The two marry, and their romance is both tender and thrilling. They embody the style of the era and make a dashing couple. With Azaad’s support, Noor Begum capitalizes on the opportunities that arise as her soulful voice spreads beyond the borders of Kashmir.

One of Renzu’s points in making Songs of Paradise is to remind us how fragile history is. In an era before digital backups, physical copies of recordings were all that existed. Lose them, and you lose the performance, the song, the film. The credits of Songs of Paradise note that many of the songs used in the movie are recreations, likely due to there being no surviving physical recordings. The music in the film is a lovely augment to a charming story of progress and promise.

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Movie Review: Inspector Zende (2025)

3 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Inspector Zende on Netflix

1970s serial killer Charles Sobhraj is a popular entertainment subject for a reason. He used his charisma to recruit followers to help him steal money and murder tourists across Southeast Asia to fund his lavish lifestyle. He earned the colorful nickname “The Bikini Killer” due the attire several of his victims were wearing when they were discovered deceased.

Inspector Zende turns the lens away from the flashy criminal and onto the police officer who caught him — not once, but twice. Perfectly-cast lead actors make the most of an amusing comedy that loses steam as it goes along.

Inspector Madhukar Zende is played by Manoj Bajpayee. The character is based on a real person — who makes a cameo at the end of the film — and uses his real name. To make it clear that this is a fictional story and not strictly biographical, debutant Hindi writer-director Chinmay Mandlekar changes the villain’s name from Charles Sobhraj to “The Swimsuit Killer” Carl Bojhraj (played by Jim Sarbh).

Zende first apprehended Bojhraj in India back in 1971, when the criminal specialized in fraud and property crimes. After escaping from various international prisons over the years, Bohjraj breaks out of Tihar Jail in Delhi in 1986 after drugging the dessert he served to prisoners and guards to celebrate his birthday (it wasn’t even his actual birthday).

Immediately, Zende knows that he has to be the one to capture Bojhraj. He knows how Bojhraj thinks and where he’s likely to be. But a lot has changed in the 15 years since he first caught the villain. Zende is older, and he has responsibilities he didn’t back then, namely a wife Viju (Girija Oak) and a couple of kids. Viju — whom he affectionately calls “The Commissioner at Home” — wonders why someone else can’t catch the escaped killer.

The sweet, flirty relationship between Zende and Viju is a real highlight of the film. According to an interview Bajpayee did with the real Madhukar Zende for Netflix India’s YouTube channel, this part of the story is absolutely true. Zende’s family is more important than his sense of professional pride.

But Zende holds himself to high moral standards that are worth quoting directly: “One who does not commit injustices on others is a noble man. One who does not let others do injustice to himself is a good man. One who stops injustice from happening to others is a true man.” (Credit to Natasha Acharya for the great English subtitles.) Zende can’t be a “true man” if he leaves this task to others, potentially allowing innocent people to get hurt in the process.

Acknowledging this older, less agile Zende enables the film to take on a more lighthearted, humorous tone. What Zende lacks in speed he makes up for in guile. Not that his hand-picked crew of fellow cops are in prime shape either, be it his humorless second-in-command Jacob (Harish Dudhade) or his bumbling assistant Patil (Bhalchandra Kadam). The inspectors need more smarts than strength as they follow Bojhraj’s tracks across Mumbai and eventually to the international tourist hotspot Goa.

For movie fans like me who are happy to watch Bajpayee and Sarbh in just about anything, Inspector Zende delivers. Bajpayee finds the right mix of earnestness and playfulness for a movie that is supposed to be fun, despite its grim inspiration.

Sarbh’s performance adds to that sense of humor while still making Bhojraj dangerous. The killer’s foreign origins and taste for luxury means that Sarbh plays the role with a French accent and wearing a wig that evokes Prince on the cover of his self-titled 1979 album. It’s an amusing persona, but appropriate for the character.

The trap Mandlekar falls into with his first feature directorial is making a comedy that overstays its welcome. Some of the film’s best physical comedy is saved for a climax that arrives ten to fifteen minutes after the movie should have ended, and the bit doesn’t land as well as it should as a result.

Still, there’s more than enough going for Inspector Zende to warrant a watch. And writing an Indian police officer character who sees himself as a protector of the innocent rather than a one-man judge, jury, and executioner is a refreshing change of pace. We need more of this.

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Movie Review: Tehran (2025)

Watch Tehran on Netflix
Watch Tehran on Zee5

Note: I’m forgoing giving Tehran a star-rating as it feels too reductive for a problematic subject.

Tehran is a movie whose potential release window closed years ago. It was filmed in October 2022, a year before norms around addressing Israel’s relationship with the Middle East’s Islamic countries changed. On top of that, the inexperienced storytelling team behind Tehran lacks the finesse to pull it off. This messy film should’ve stayed on the shelf.

The story opens by stating that it is based on real-life assassination attempts on Israeli diplomats in 2012 that took place in three countries: India, Thailand, and Georgia. Maps of the countries are shown on-screen, including a map of the state of Georgia within the United States of America — not the country Georgia, where the attack actually occurred.

John Abraham plays Rajeev “RK” Kumar, a cop in Delhi’s Special Branch — a unit with incredibly wide operational latitude, if the film is to be believed. He’s pulled from his ethics-bending investigation of organized crime onto a Delhi car-bombing case that killed a young flower seller. RK feels especially bad for the dead girl because he has a daughter the same age (as if that’s the only reason a man could care about the welfare of girls). Once that emotional connection is established, RK hardly thinks of his daughter again.

Indian authorities assume Pakistan was behind the attack, but RK notices that the targeted car carried an Israeli Embassy employee. He finds a connection between two other attacks on Israeli diplomats — in Thailand and the non-US Georgia — as well as evidence that they were planned in India. The attackers are all Iranian citizens.

This is a big problem for India’s government, who are days away from signing a deal with Iran to import cheap oil. There are other considerations regarding India’s relationship with Israel, and innumerable diplomats and politicians from all three countries are so hastily introduced that it causes confusion. Yet the oil deal is paramount. Accusing Iran of attempted assassination would surely scuttle the deal, so the higher ups want this case wrapped up quietly.

That won’t fly with RK, who wants justice for the dead little girl who may as well be his daughter (whom he never sees). But instead of just going after the perpetrator of the Delhi attack — an irritating villain named Afshar (Hadi Khanjanpour), whom we know is extra bad because he takes drugs and has gay sex — RK and his team travel overseas to take out the men behind the Thailand and Georgia attacks.

RK’s subordinates Vijay (Dinkar Sharma) and Divya (Manushi Chhillar in a minuscule role) poison the other two assassins in public places on foreign soil, killing both men. Is the commission of war crimes standard training for Delhi police? When RK and company head to Iran to finish off Afshar, RK’s boss tells him not to bother coming back to India. The threat of never seeing his extremely-important-to-him daughter again doesn’t deter our single-minded hero.

A note at the end of the film that states that RK acted “to stop thousands of Indians from becoming collateral damage,” a figure pulled out of nowhere. It’s used to justify the narrative blank check issued to RK to do whatever he feels necessary, regardless of whether he winds up causing collateral damage of his own.

RK’s own actions and choice of killing methods are part of the messy moral universe crafted by Arun Gopalan, based on a story and screenplay by Bindni Karia, neither of whom have many credits to their names. Ritesh Shah and Ashish Prakash Verma also worked on the screenplay, though their robust resumes don’t seem to have helped much. The creative crew is desperate not to be seen as taking sides in the Israel-Iran conflict, while also obviously taking sides.

Considering that the impetus for RK’s actions is the death of a little girl, a scene in which an Israeli assassin shoots an Iranian scientist in front of his young daughter is only shown in passing. Yet a scene in which Iranian assassin Afshar tortures a rabbi — whom we are told was kidnapped when he went to buy his daughter’s favorite bread — is lingered upon. It’s brought up again when an Israeli agent asks RK to get revenge for the rabbi’s death, to which RK says, “You kill theirs. They kill yours. No one is clean here. I’m not here to judge.”

The torture sequence is particularly troubling because Afshar is trying to get the rabbi to record a message demanding that Israel leave Palestine. “Free Palestine” is painted in huge letters on the wall behind him. This is used to establish Afshar as the villain, conflating his advocacy for Palestinian independence with terrorism. The movie does this with another character who has a “Free Palestine” poster, to whom RK says, “It looks like you hold a lot of hate for Israel.”

This movie was filmed a year before Israel responded to a Hamas attack with an ongoing genocidal war on Gaza that has killed tens of thousands of Palestinians. Just a couple of months before this movie’s release, Israel bombed nuclear sites within Iran. Had Tehran released as originally scheduled in 2023, perhaps it could have sold its “not taking sides” stance more effectively. It doesn’t get that same kind of grace releasing on August 14, 2025.

On top of all the messy political stuff, Tehran is just not a great movie. There’s nothing special about the acting, stunts, or locations, especially since the makers thought that Scotland could believably stand-in for Iran. This isn’t a project worth sullying reputations for. Just write it off on the corporate tax forms and pretend it never happened.

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Movie Review: Sitaare Zameen Par (2025)

2 Stars (out of 4)

Sitaare Zameen Par is available for rent on YouTube

Aamir Khan’s sports comedy Sitaare Zameen Par (“Stars on Earth“) fits as a spiritual successor to his 2007 educational drama Taare Zameen Par. Both films aim to teach their audience about disabilities, and both do so in a heavy-handed way that focuses too much on Khan’s character.

This time, Khan plays Gulshan Arora, an assistant coach for Delhi’s professional men’s basketball team. Head coach Paswan Ji (Deepraj Rana) doesn’t like Gulshan’s know-it-all attitude and teases him for being short. More accurately, Paswan Ji says that if Gulshan is such a basketball expert, why doesn’t he jump and touch the 10-foot-high rim. People nearby laugh, as if this isn’t a) a stupid way to judge basketball knowledge, b) a feat even some pro players can’t accomplish, and c) definitely something most 60-year-olds (like Khan) can’t do.

Gulshan punches the head coach and gets fired. Then he gets drunk and hits a police car while driving home. A judge gives Gulshan a choice: go to prison, or coach a team of special needs adults. He chooses the latter.

For his community service, Gulshan is tasked with training about a dozen players at a recreation center for adults with intellectual disabilities and neurodevelopmental conditions like Down syndrome and autism. Community center director Kartar Paaji (Gurpal Singh) tells Gulshan to act like he’s coaching a bunch of 8-year-olds.

I am not the intended audience for this film, nor is anybody residing in the United States or anywhere with an established special education system. Sitaare Zameen Par is aimed at people with very minimal understanding of disabilities. As a result, the tone and terms used to address the players is overly paternalistic. They’re talked about as children despite some being men in their 30s with jobs and girlfriends. Some of this tone is meant to demonstrate Gulshan’s own lack of understanding, but the screenplay takes it too far.

This paternalism is further demonstrated by a subplot involving Gulshan’s estranged wife, Suneeta (Genelia D’Souza in an entertaining performance). She wants kids, and Gulshan doesn’t, lest he turn out like his own absent father. Coaching the team helps allay Gulshan’s worries about parenthood, but the fact remains: he’s coaching adults, not children.

It’s not as if Sitaare Zameen Par lacks the time for nuance. Its 158-minute runtime is about 58 minutes too long as is, given how much it belabors the points it’s trying to make. Gulshan’s character development is so slow that, even in the climactic basketball game, he is surprised by how his players react to the outcome. We’ve spent two-and-a-half hours learning about these men and their feelings. What was Gulshan doing that whole time?

To be fair, it is hugely significant that the players are performed by actors with intellectual disabilities rather than neurotypical actors feigning disabilities. The players really are the best part of the film, and their charming characters are all well-acted.

That’s why the narrative focus on Gulshan’s sluggish personal growth is so underwhelming. It doesn’t help that, besides being ableist at the beginning, he’s also racist. When complaining that he can’t refer to the disabled players as “mad/crazy,” he laments that society tells him, “Don’t call a blackie ‘blackie.’ Don’t call a chinky ‘chinky.'” His subplot with his wife is silly, too, because he treats her horribly. Why are we supposed to want them to work out their issues? Suneeta deserves better.

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