Save for Saif. His character has a thing for stories and tells them like riddles with deviousness stroked in affability. He is evil in its most hypnotic, powerful, persuasive, expressive and exonerated avatar — now where have you heard of this kind before?

The whole point of this idiotic movie hinges on whether Aayush Sharma who wants to act can act. Unless a singular dazed expression qualifies as talent, not by a long shot

Batti Gul Meter Chalu’s final few minutes weepily rave and rant about the injustice meted out at the ‘sadharan aadmi.’

But the mockery that precedes it akin to watching Shahid Kapoor host a humourless awards show.

The actor gives his all to the part, smoothly swinging between the stand-up and speech-y tone of its courtroom scenes.

Unfortunately, his comic ease and contagious energy are not enough to brighten up this dim-witted slog.

J P Dutta’s clownish treatment of history and hard-earned triumph demeans the efforts and sacrifices of real-life martyrs and bravehearts with its pompous ideas of valour, clunky writing and a cadre of lacklustre actors…

Yamla Pagla Deewana Phir Se has the wit of a goat.Considering most of it is assigned to Bobby, the result is as agonising as his last outing.

Save for a few laughs, I didn’t care much for Happy Bhag Jayegi’s clamorous comedy of confusion.

John Abraham has Popeye’s muscles and Bluto’s scowl, but how many times can you watch a deadpan Hulk pull out a van door or burst forth from a truck tyre?

It’s only when Gold moves away from Akshay Kumar’s blundering Bangla and hockey humbug to become a story of grace among go-getters that it comes close to becoming the movie it should have been…

Detours and stopovers to cancelled weddings, random goons, Mere Mehboob-style coy romances, run-ins with exes and premature exchange of opinions, personal life and preconceptions make Karwaan wander off in a medley of much ado about nothing.

As a consequence the more we look at them, the more out of sight they grow.

After all that running around, the life lessons it ultimately imparts only show the makers’s inability by resorting to the same old soppy idea of closure it so desperately seeks to break away from.

Fanney Khan is in the same space as Tumhari Sulu and Secret Superstar where starry-eyed aspiration and gullible hearts of gold go but nowhere as grounded in reality.