Tag Archives: Hindi

Movie Review: Anuja (2024)

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3 Stars (out of 4)

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Two sisters in Delhi face a difficult choice when one of them is offered a potential way out of poverty. Filmmaker Adam J. Graves uses Anuja‘s brief 22-minute runtime to make a meaningful critique of child labor in this Oscar-nominated short drama film.

9-year-old Anuja is played by Sajda Pathan, who herself lives in a Delhi shelter for children. Anuja and her older sister Palak (Ananya Shanbhag) are orphans who work 14-hour days in a garment factory.

Word of Anuja’s illegal employment has gotten around, as has her natural talent for mathematics. A teacher named Mishra (Gulshan Walia) comes to the factory to invite her to take a placement test for a boarding school, though she’ll have to find 400 rupees to pay for it. But the factory’s owner Verma (Nagesh Bhonsle) isn’t keen on letting one of his employees get away.

The invitation presents a real dilemma for the girls. Palak’s old enough to accept the limits of her own prospects and to understand that this may be her sister’s one chance at a better life. But they are the only family each other have, and it’s not easy to give that up for an uncertain future. Anuja doesn’t even know what a boarding school is, so why would she want to leave her sister to go to one?

Both Pathan and Shanbhag do a really nice job playing the sisters, who are hard not to care about. Much of the film’s short runtime is dedicated to showing their fondness for one another, as well as their protective instincts. Though it makes logical sense for Anuja to pursue her education, the emotional cost for both sisters is very clear.

The most effective moment in Graves’ narrative — which is produced by a host of industry notables including Mindy Kaling, Priyanka Chopra Jonas, and Oscar winner Guneet Monga Kapoor — is a fleeting one. As Anuja runs through a fancy clothing store fleeing its security guard, she spots a mannequin dressed in one of the garments she sewed. It’s a powerful condemnation of the exploitation underlying the fashion industry, and a it’s a reminder for the audience to become more informed consumers. Ignorance of the plight of workers is no excuse for supporting child labor.

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Movie Review: I Want to Talk (2024)

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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: Hisaab Barabar (2025)

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1.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Rarely do you find a feature film where one of the complaints is: “I wish there was more math.” Hisaab Barabar (“Settle Accounts“) has some arithmetic highlights in an otherwise corny social issue drama.

R. Madhavan stars as Radhe Mohan Sharma, an upstanding railway ticket collector. He stopped studying accounting when his father died, and then took over Dad’s job to support the family. He gets some small satisfaction teaching basic math to the vendors on the train platform.

While checking his statement from Do Bank, Radhe notices his account is short 27.5 rupees (about $0.30). The amount isn’t significant, but he demands a correction from the bank on principle. As he explains in one of his impromptu platform tutorials, 27.5 multiplied by millions is substantial.

Radhe becomes suspicious when a passenger leaves his Do Bank statement on the train, and a similarly minuscule amount is missing. One of his coworker’s accounts is also short. Radhe realizes he may have uncovered a huge conspiracy.

The highlight of the movie, oddly enough, is a scene in a mall food court where Radhe explains to his co-workers how banks calculate interest based on an account’s current balance and why the shortfall matters. He writes his equations on a window with (hopefully!) erasable marker. It’s really interesting, and the film does a fine job making the accounting understandable.

The audience already knows Radhe is right, because the movie’s opening scene confirms it. At a tacky party with horrible dancing, Do Bank owner Micky Mehta (Neil Nitin Mukesh) openly discusses amassing a fortune from his customers one stray rupee at a time with a corrupt government official named Dayal (Manu Rishi). Mehta keeps his piles of pilfered bills in a warehouse freezer, hidden from regulatory oversight.

After Radhe files a formal complaint with the police department, writer-director Ashwni Dhir over-complicates the story. Mehta uses his connections to muddle the investigation and harass Radhe and his young son Manu (Shaunak Duggal). The police officer assigned to investigate the complaint happens to be Radhe’s new girlfriend Poonam (Kirti Kulhari), whom he apparently didn’t know was a cop. For some reason, Poonam doesn’t recuse herself from the case, even when she’s pressured to charge Radhe himself with some kind of crime. Could she be holding a fifteen-year-old grudge because she and Radhe were paired by a matchmaker, but he rejected her because her math grades weren’t good enough (another thing Radhe has no idea about)?

The tone of Hisaab Barabar vacillates between goofy and sinister. A slapstick brawl between bank employees exists alongside Poonam’s superior officer warning her to do what he says, lest something nasty happen to her when she takes the train alone at night.

Ultimately, the balance tilts toward goofiness, but I don’t think that was intentional. It’s all due to Neil Nitin Mukesh giving the most absurd performance of his career as the scheming bank owner. He sings the Do Bank jingle before having his goons nab Manu, and he dances awkwardly with his housekeepers in his mansion. Every line is over-emoted. Mehta’s style and mannerisms are like an out-of-touch boomer’s idea of cool, but Mukesh is only 43.

Mukesh isn’t the only one off his game. Madhavan’s performance as Radhe is mostly flat, but he has this weird half-collapsing, half-retching reaction to a surprising death that is so bizarre as to be laugh-out-loud funny. Kulhari is mostly normal as Poonam, but her character doesn’t make much sense.

Hisaab Barabar‘s point about not letting seemingly small amounts of corruption slide is nuanced and important, but the drama around it just doesn’t add up.

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Movie Review: Jigra (2024)

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3.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Filmmaker Vasan Bala’s Jigra (“Courage“) shows the lengths to which a protective older sister will go to save her younger brother. Alia Bhatt once again commands the screen, turning in a complex, emotional performance in this tense prison-break drama.

Bhatt plays Satya, big sister to promising software engineer Ankur (Vedang Raina). When they were still in elementary school, the kids witnessed their father’s suicide. Satya has shielded Ankur from harm ever since. They were raised by a wealthy, distant relative, Mr. Mehtani (Akashdeep Sabir), whose son Kabir (Aditya Nanda) is best friends with Ankur.

While Ankur believes they are one big family, Satya knows the truth. She manages the Mehtani’s household staff, only changing out of her uniform for public events where the appearance of familial unity matters. The Mehtani’s expect reimbursement for her care, and soon they’ll expect the same from Ankur.

Ankur and Kabir ask Mr. Mehtani to help them find an investor for software Ankur built. This project is an ideal opportunity for Kabir to straighten his life out following multiple drug arrests. Mehtani sends the guys to meet a colleague in the fictional island nation of Hanshi Dao, off the coast of Malaysia.

The guys secure the funding and celebrate. Kabir gets caught with drugs, and both are arrested. Drug possession is a capital offense in Hanshi Dao — a fact the Mehtani family lawyer Jaswant (Harssh A. Singh) knows but the guys don’t. Jaswant tricks Ankur into taking the fall for Kabir. When Ankur is sentenced to death, Satya burns bridges with the Mehtanis and heads to Hanshi Dao to free her brother.

Without the expectation of repayment and the double-edged sword of family ties, Satya is finally able to find allies who share a mutual interest. Ex-gangster Bhatia (Manoj Pahwa) wants to get his son Tony (Yuvraj Vijjan) off of death row. Muthu (Rahul Ravindran) quit the Hanshi Dao police force after he accidentally sent an innocent man — Chandan (Dheer Hira) — to prison. With no legal recourse left, the three unlikely allies use their skills and connections to formulate an audacious escape plan.

Though Satya is the main character, the story gives us a glimpse into Ankur’s life in jail, too. His betrayal by the Mehtanis and his painful adjustment to life under sadistic warden Hansraj Landa (Vivek Gomber) shake him out of his prolonged adolescence. He finally becomes a man, one with only a few months to live.

With a big star like Bhatt on board, Bala — who co-wrote Jigra with Debashish Irengbam — takes a slightly more conventional filmmaking approach than with his previous features Mard Ko Dard Nahi Hota and Monica, O My Darling. This mostly comes in the form of flashbacks to Satya and Ankur as little kids, meant to reinforce the depth of the siblings’ bond (akin to how many mainstream Hindi films about romantic couples insist on flashing back to how the couple first fell in love). The flashbacks aren’t necessary and slow down the pace of the film. Satya’s love for Ankur is active — we can already feel it in everything she does.

One of Bala’s superpowers is staging his heroines in fight scenes. Too often, “strong” female characters in films have some sort of elite training or physical prowess — qualities that allow them to fight like men, essentially. Bala’s leading ladies — Satya in Jigra, Supri in Mard Ko Dard Nahi Hota, and Monica in Monica, O My Darling — aren’t like that. They are scrappy, ordinary women who prevail over their male adversaries through sheer determination (though Supri’s black belt helps). Satya’s unpolished fight scenes are all the more riveting because of what they say about her personality. She won’t let anything get in her way.

Through her depth of talent, Bhatt conveys so many of the emotions roiling within Satya even when her expression is stone-faced. It’s a remarkable performance in a career full of remarkable performances.

Pahwa and Ravindran play perfectly off of Bhatt. Because of their performances and the stakes for their characters, Satya’s relationships with Bhatia and Muthu are probably the most emotionally impactful in the film. Few actors portray heartbreak as well as Manoj Pahwa.

In only his second feature role, Raina acquits himself very well as Ankur. He undergoes more of a character transformation than Satya does, while still needing her as much as he ever did. Raina also does a nice job singing the film’s title track.

Vasan Bala’s filmography is among the best among working directors, and Alia Bhatt is Hindi cinema’s top actress for a reason. Put them together, and you get something very special.

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Movie Review: Fighter (2024)

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1.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Fighter is just what you’d imagine when you think of a Bollywood version of Top Gun. The predictable action flick about a reckless jet pilot is mostly fine until an aggressively patriotic climax that veers into jingoism.

Hrithik Roshan stars as Shamsher “Patty” Pathania, ace pilot among the Indian Air Force’s “Air Dragons” squadron. Fighter director Siddharth Anand also directed Roshan in the action flick War, the highlight of which was Roshan’s character’s epic entry scene. Anand tries to give Roshan a similar introduction in Fighter, but it feels derivative.

The Air Dragons team includes fellow jet pilots Taj (Karan Singh Grover) and Bash (Akshay Oberoi), and also helicopter pilots like Minal “Minni” Rathore (Deepika Padukone). All of the other male pilots are married or have facial hair, so obviously Minni and Patty will fall in love.

Commanding Officer Rakesh “Rocky” Jaisingh (Anil Kapoor) thinks Patty takes dangerous risks, but the force needs all the help they can get to combat a rising wave of terrorism in Kashmir (the film is set in 2018, before Article 370 was revoked). The squad’s training is interrupted when a terror blast takes out several buses full of Indian soldiers on their way to the region.

If you’ve seen either of the Top Gun movies, you can more or less guess where Fighter is going. The Air Dragons retaliate for the explosion, and Taj and Bash are shot down by Pakistan’s ace pilot: “Red Nose.” (They just had to give him a stupid call sign.) Rocky blames Patty, demoting him and shipping him off to be a flight instructor. But when a recovery mission goes sideways, Patty returns to (hopefully) save the day.

The story is serviceable enough. The actors generally give decent performances, despite Anand’s preference for heavy-handed sentimentality. Padukone and Roshan are at their best in a scene where Patty packs following his demotion, leaving not just the Air Dragons behind but Minni as well.

But Fighter is a movie that says one thing and does another. Characters speak broadly about the Indian public and the military fraternity at large, but every plot point is directly connected to Patty or Minni by either romantic or familial connections. Note that Patty only plots revenge against Pakistan for his dead fiancée — another helicopter pilot (he has a type) — not for any of the other Indian soldiers killed in action that he doesn’t know personally.

Patty states repeatedly that the Indian military has nothing against Pakistan as a country, only against terrorists working within its borders. But the movie immediately follows Patty’s speech with a scene of terrorist mastermind Azhar (Rishabh Sawhney) marching into the offices of the Pakistani military and giving orders. Multiple times, the Pakistani government is depicted to be collaborating with, or controlled by, terrorists.

Fighter‘s militant brand of patriotism takes an extreme turn in the climax (which is full of ambitious but silly stunts and corny closeups). Patty claims that India is the rightful owner of all of Kashmir, and he promises that soon Pakistan will be known as “India-Occupied Pakistan.” Ending what should have been a feel-good movie with what amounts to a declaration of war needlessly pushes this triumphant moment into a dark place.

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Movie Review: Agni (2024)

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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)

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2.5 Stars (out of 4)

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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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Movie Review: CTRL (2024)

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3.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Filmmaker Vikramaditya Motwane’s Netflix Original film CTRL chillingly reminds the audience to do something we regularly neglect: read the fine print.

The film opens with the rapid social media ascent of influencers Nella (Ananya Panday) and Joe (Vihaan Samat), a romantically-involved couple who document their dates and travels on their channel. We see their relationship evolve through their social media posts, which increasingly feature sponsored products. Their lives are entangled as much financially as they are emotionally.

Nella surprises Joe on-camera while he’s out at a meal with friends, only to find him kissing a girl she doesn’t know. Nella’s dramatic meltdown in the restaurant becomes meme-fodder, and we see other creators using her blowup to make their own material.

As she deals with the implosion of her relationship and career, Nella spots a comment advertising an AI service that can remove someone from your digital life. She signs up for the service and creates a virtual assistant “Allen” — who looks like a mop-topped cartoon version of Ranveer Singh and is voiced by Aparshakti Khurana — instructing him to erase Joe from all of the photos and videos on her computer.

Allen asks Nella questions about the photos as he removes Joe pixel by pixel, acting as the confidant she lost in her breakup. When she’s ready to go to sleep, Allen says he can keep deleting Joe overnight if she gives him full access to all of her computer’s systems. She doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

If this were a sci-fi movie, this is where Allen would turn out to be a super-smart AI that takes over Nella’s life. But because CTRL is set in reality — where AI is nowhere near capable of doing that — what happens next is less dramatic, but more frightening because of its mundanity. Nella’s permission allows a developer to remotely access her desktop and all of her apps and files. The human on the other end can snoop around as much as they want — writing, copying, and deleting to their heart’s content while Nella snoozes.

We’re all guilty of agreeing to corporations’ conditions without really knowing what we’re consenting to, whether that’s how the company uses our data or signing away our rights to sue. CTRL is so effective because of how believable it is in its depiction of a worst-case corporate overreach scenario borne out of consumer inattention.

Ananya Panday has been a compelling performer since she debuted, and she demonstrates what a top-tier leading lady she is in CTRL. She acts nearly all of her scenes alone, addressing the camera directly while filming her own video content or interacting with Allen on her laptop. Even without other actors to play off of, she hits every emotional note perfectly, making the audience care deeply for Nella even as she creates new problems for herself.

In the hands of a less-skilled filmmaker, telling a story entirely via social media posts and footage shot through laptop cameras and video calls could come across as gimmicky. But Motwane is so talented that the visual flow of the film feels totally natural. The spell breaks a little when we’re shown footage of other influencers’ posts or cable news reports, but since it’s clear that this is what Nella is watching, it makes narrative sense.

Here’s hoping that some politician watches CTRL and makes it their mission to pursue greater regulation of AI. Trusting corporations to do the right thing is foolish.

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Movie Review: Chhorii (2021)

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3 Stars (out of 4)

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Chhorii (“Girl“) isn’t an out-and-out scare-fest, but rather a thoughtful exploration of the real threats faced by expectant mothers.

Nushrratt Bharuccha carries the film as Sakshi, a woman 8-months pregnant with her first child. She loves the kids she works with at her charity in the city, and she’s particularly keen to make sure girls are given the same opportunities as boys.

When thugs beat up her husband Hemant (Saurabh Goyal) for not paying back a loan, the couple’s driver Kajala (Rajesh Jais) offers to let them hide at his family’s home in a remote village until they can figure out a plan. This seems risky given Sakshi’s condition, but Kajala assures them that his wife Bhanno Devi (Mita Vashisht) will be there to help.

Kajala drops them off outside of a labyrinthine sugarcane field and tells them to follow the path to the house. When they find the house, Bhanno Devi is welcoming enough, but her conservatism — such as making Sakshi wait to eat until after Hemant and Kajala have finished dinner — puts modern Sakshi on the back foot.

Then there’s the fact that Hemant doesn’t advocate on her behalf in that situation. Add that to Hemant’s belief that taking Sakshi far away from her doctors to a place with no cell service is a smart idea, and it raises some red flags, at the very least regarding his situational awareness.

Sakshi gets comfortable enough with Bhanno Devi that she okays Hemant’s plan to return to the city for a few days to raise some funds. As soon as he leaves, things get weird. Bhanno Devi’s mute daughter-in-law Rani (Pallavi Ajay) shows up, bearing an angry scar across her abdomen from when she lost her own fetus. And three mischievous little boys appear to Sakshi, asking her to come play with them.

Bhanno Devi is awful to Rani and short with Sakshi when the pregnant woman brings up the three boys. The older woman only ever calls Sakshi “chhorii” (“girl”), and insists that Sakshi follow her rules without question. And don’t get Bhanno Devi started on her former sister-in-law, whom she refers to as a witch.

The supernatural aspects of Chhorii don’t take center stage until the second half of the film, but with good reason. Writer-director Vishal Furia’s story (co-written with Vishal Kapoor and based on their Marathi film Lapachhapi) emphasizes that there are a lot of threats to Sakshi’s well-being beyond ghosts and witches. As sad as it is, she can only be sure of her own devotion to the health of her unborn child. Her understandable mistake in following the judgment of Hemant and Kajala ceded a dangerous amount of control.

Sakshi makes for a satisfying horror heroine. She’s trusting, but not naive; curious, but not reckless. Bharuccha does a nice job in the lead role and plays beautifully off of the undercurrent of menace Vashisht laces into her performance as Bhanno Devi.

Chhorii is most compelling when it leans into its folktale roots. Bhanno Devi tells a parable about a crow in a poisoned tree that is as sad as it is chilling. It’s a little disappointing and unnecessary when Furia includes real-world stats on female infanticide at the end of the film. The moral of the story is already clear as can be.

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Movie Review: All We Imagine as Light (2024)

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3.5 Stars (out of 4)

Mumbai — a crowded city where it’s easy to be lonely. A place to live that never quite feels like home. That’s the experience of three women in the engaging international feature All We Imagine as Light.

Prabha (Kani Kusruti) is head nurse at a hospital in Mumbai. She grew up elsewhere speaking Malayalam but has learned Hindi to thrive in the city.* She’s married, but her husband works in a factory in Germany. He hasn’t called in over a year.

Since she’s effectively single and rent is expensive, Prabha lives with Anu (Divya Prabhu), a junior nurse who’s also a transplant to the city. Anu has something of a reputation, since other hospital workers have seen her meeting up with a young man: her Muslim boyfriend Shiaz (Hridhu Haroon).

Prabha’s own beau — kindly Dr. Manoj (Azees Nedumangad) — knows she is married, but he waits for her after work to give her treats or share his poetry. The relationship is chaste, but it fills a void in Prabha’s life.

The arrival of a mysterious package shakes up Prabha’s routine and forces her to look at her life as it truly is. There’s no note in the package or a return address, only a fancy rice cooker — made in Germany.

Director Payal Kapadia lets these scenes in the city unfold at an unhurried pace, giving the audience time to understand the rhythms of the characters’ lives. It’s an enjoyable way to be carried along in a drama where the problems are important, but not necessarily urgent. It took a long time for Prabha’s life to become the way it is, after all.

She and Anu get an outside perspective when Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam, Laapataa Ladies) —  a widow who works at the hospital — asks for their help moving back to her village. Parvaty has lived in the same Mumbai apartment for two decades, but lacking the proper paperwork, re-developers are evicting her. It’s like she was never there at all.

Only in stepping outside the bounds of the city can any of the women see the way it constrains the very opportunities it promises to make possible: opportunities for love, belonging and happiness.

Outside of the city, the story loses a bit of momentum. Some of that is intentional, as it represents a new physical and mental space for the characters to inhabit, but it didn’t quite work for me. Kapadia has such a clear vision of life in the city that I was sad to let that go.

Kusruti, Prabhu, and Kadam are great individually, but especially together. Their performances are easy and natural, and that extends to their rapport. They are the heart of a movie that is very enjoyable to watch.

*One thing I’d love to see the film do before its US theatrical release is to code the English subtitles in different colors depending on which language is being spoken. The characters speak a mix of Hindi, Malayalam, and Marathi, and it would enhance the understanding of their relationships if it was easier for non-Indian-language speakers to tell who was speaking in what language with whom.

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