Fans will probably find Fast and Furious 8 mostly satisfying. Non-fans will most likely not find the film as offensive to the senses as they would expect. After all, there are few cinematic moments as oddly eloquent as seeing a WWE pro-wrestler pick up Clint Eastwood’s son like he is an action figure and shake him around.

Phillauri’s concept is good and novel. But the delivery is what North Indians call KLPD. The climactic payoff at the end comes way too easily. It’s just lazy writing after a point. If only Shashi emerged in the writer’s room before filming began and smacked some imagination into Anvita Dutt’s head.

You have other options in the theatres this weekend; treat yourself to those instead of this. Pity Deepika Padukone couldn’t make her Hollywood debut with a more less-forgettable film.

The real and only hero of Dr Strange is its visual effects. What happens to large cities and vast tracts of land in the film is what you see when you look into a kaleidoscope. Buildings, roads and bridges fold upon each other while the heroes and villains do parkour between all of that. It is great to look at till a point. But then, you have seen stranger things before.

A note of appreciation for Vir Das. The comedian holds his own as a likable sardar and father of two really annoying kids who should be nominated for Ghanta Awards for Annoying Children. In the future, 31st October will serve as his show-reel to directors who might want to cast him in ‘serious roles’. Soha Ali Khan, who plays Vir’s wife, sleepwalks through the entire film just like the other actors.

Too bad, as is always with any film from the bhai stable, the film’s makers did not give two hoots about the film’s script, which is why Freaky Ali ended up being two hours of zzzZZZzzzz…

A Flying Jatt is meant for kids. If grown-ups don’t mind doing the fabled “leave the brain outside the home and enjoy” routine before stepping into the theatre, they will not mind A Flying Jatt.

Ashutosh Gowariker does not make historical films, let’s get that clear. He is great at making spectacles using historical stories as a crutch. Sadly, this time, he picked the wrong story.

There is not much drama, not much wit, the villains (the big, bad giants come off as high-school bullies) are one-dimensional – it’s all very forgettable.
Frankly, The BFG is a sub-par film in Spielberg’s oeuvre.

The film is as aimless and pointless as its protagonists, and Agneya Singh is no Richard Linklater or Gus Vant Sant who can create magic with a leisurely film about lost young folks (Dazed and Confused, SubUrbia, My Own Private Idaho).