Clever ideas, smooth filmmaking and some entrancing acting covering up for a film whose flaws are a result of its reach far exceeding its grasp.

This is not a film that will leave you hanging at the edge of your seat. There are no major plot-twists and no significantly impactful script. The acting is passable and the vibe throughout the film overbearingly sad. Even though there are a few attempts to lighten the mood through Varun Dhawan’s glib jokes, the atmosphere remains one of doleful hope. The cinematography, camerawork and music are commendable, and the screenplay and direction are remarkable, but none of them can really take your attention away from all that is lacking in the movie. Unless you’re feeling rather masochistic, it’s safe to skip this one.

The film, like life itself, cannot attain perfection even though it tries exceedingly hard. But the fact that its story found some originality in those of the seven billion that inhabit the world is commendable.

But Akshay Kumar grins, weeps and speaks with a feeling that doesn’t look like it belongs in this film. There’s this one moment where he manages to finally obtain confirmation that he has indeed managed to make a functional sanitary pad, and he’s nothing short of lovable there. It is precisely this lovableness that made us breeze through Padman, and will likely ensure that you do, too.

The story is set in an elegantly designed house that is brilliantly rendered as a claustrophobic nightmare. This is achieved in no small part due to the efforts of the set decorators, designers, prop masters and the many other unsung heroes of every movie who bring their A-game to this one.

And that feeling of deflation you experience is what makes Padmaavat an inessential film-going exercise. While you applaud the effort, support the artists, uphold freedom of speech and expression, and turn a blind eye to the movie’s glorification of jauhar, you are left with the sentiment that there was more that could have been done with lesser, and that Bhansali’s shtick might be running its course.

Watch The Commuter for what may just be Liam Neeson’s last time on-screen as an action hero, but oh, what a glorious ride it could have been, if only.

While the movie is competently made, its core intent appears to be to get a legendary actor his long-overdue Oscar and the film might be remembered only as “that film that won Oldman an Oscar” and not much else. You’ll remember the poignancy of the “We will fight them at the beaches” speech at the end of Dunkirk more than the elation the same speech tries to induce at the end of this movie.

…craft alone can’t make a good film great. A movie is built on stories one would like to hear and characters one would like to empathize with. The film has one but falters on the other. The measure of the movie’s capability to stand out comes with its final shot. It alludes to the burgeoning Watergate Scandal, and you’ll realize that you’ve enjoyed All The President’s Men much more than The Post. One was truly great and the other is just good.

Simply put, watch this one if you absolutely must. No FOMO here, though.