• On paper Kuchh Bheege Alfaaz seems just like what Dr Love would have prescribed. …However it takes the entire length of a film and some misunderstandings and complications for it to reach fruition.

  • In the name of swag the actors are made to wear shades, look deliberately deadpan and perennially walk in slo-mo, so much that they leave one somnolent with their unhurried ways. You can see Bajpayee trying hard to breathe life in his persona but Malhotra, who is lovely to gaze at, doesn’t have an ounce of the angst that his character should have ideally had. Bajpayee, the song ‘Lae Dooba’ and some stray canines at the fag end are the film’s only saving graces.

  • Pad Man is an example of how good causes may not always make great cinema.

  • The colours, costumes and jewellery scream luxury and weigh the actors down but very strangely I also felt the glitzy spectacle getting dwarfed in 3D IMAX. The opulence doesn’t seem as awe-inspiring, the special effects, especially in some of the battle scenes, are plain tacky and the actors seem like cardboard dolls of themselves in the long shots, acquiring a human visage only in extreme closeups, which is when Deepika Padukone (and Aditi Rao Hydari too) looks extremely regal and radiant, which she anyhow always does.

  • The realistic finale which is more about off-bout negotiations than a knock-out punch end Mukkabaaz in a low key manner. But “Bharat Mata Ki Jai” (with a big dose of sarcasm) instead of “The End” plate, after the disclaimer in the finale, is where Kashyap knocks it out of the park. Just as he does in naming his chief villain — a Brahmin, mind you — Bhagwan. Chuckle along and ponder some.

  • Khan is especially delightful, alternating between the slapstick and the sombre with an off the cuff ease. The “Cape of Good Hope” and “Australia” bits he gets to speak are the noteworthy chuckle-inducing bits in a largely bland, facile and slight fare.

  • QQS is a happy confluence of many things besides an absolutely entrancing, candid and un-self-conscious Khan who makes acting seem utterly easy and effortless.

  • Despite a strain of predictability, Tu Hai Mera Sunday brings alive contemporary Mumbai with a rare freshness and likeability

  • JHMS marks a thumping return to love at its most banal, hackneyed and exasperating. There is not much in the silly situations and trite conversations to get you invested or interested in the lovers. The two main characters themselves don’t seem to share that vital thing on screen called frisson

  • Lipstick…remains breezy in its audacity. It is unapologetic in giving platform to something largely brushed under the carpet—women’s sexuality—without making a big deal about it.

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