The beauty of Saala Khadoos is that it’s building to a finale that you can see from light years: a grand international match with a badass Russian boxer who, we all know, will be biting the dust by the end of it. You see, the writers have done such a fine job that it doesn’t shock the viewers at all.

Airlift, on one hand, is very real but at times fails to keep the audience on the edge of their seats that one would expect from a rescue thriller. Raja Krishna Menon manages to build tension but not enough to pause you from stuffing your face with that bag of popcorn. And then the need to insert those songs in between that robs a thriller from its pace and impact. Despite that it makes for a great weekend watch.

Overall, despite Amitabh’s gyan on pyar, ishq, mohabbat, despite him going overboard with his analogies between life and shatranj, the film doesn’t give you much insight into anything.
It’s an emotional thriller with an ending that you can see from a mile yet is impactful. Watch it once. It won’t hurt.  

If you gush calling Bhansali an artist, his movies oh-so-beautiful, sheer poetry and all that, then Bajirao Mastani won’t disappoint!

If you are still alive at the end of the film, you would notice a book in apna Bravo’s house. It reads Isaac Newton. That makes perfect sense. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, subtly establishing it as a revenge story. Errr NOT!

I feel Shagun Batra dealt with the same issue in Ek Main Aur Ek Tu a shade better, devoid of any dramatics, real and urbane. But Tamasha, despite bringing in a touch of tamasha, is a one-time watch for sure.

I knew it was a Rajshri film, where people play jewellery-jewellery in their living rooms, wear saris and sherwanis to bed and roll red carpets to their loos. But Prem Ratan Dhan Payo takes the Dhan part way too seriously.

The film tries to get all preachy about fat people, that everyone has feelings and all that. But the same film also made a string of gay-fashion-designer-rich-blingy-show-off-Sindhis-small-eyed-Chinese-Japanese jokes. It’s then a trifle hard to take this movie seriously.

The film gives such gyan on life, love and universe that it seems less like a whodunnit murder mystery and more like a satsang. There is a spiritual spin to everything. A character in the movie says, I like holding my coffee mug close, because I want to hold my life close and feel it with my naked fingers. I laughed out so loud that my cheeks still hurt.
Yep, you can hold the coffee mug close, hold your life close too. I am not sure if you should come anywhere close to Jazbaa.

I would rather poke myself in the eye with a blunt knife (REPEATEDLY) than watch any Prabhu Deva film ever again. Trust me that will be a breeze in front of this nonsense that spools out mercilessly for three hours.