• Let me make an honest confession. I had high expectations from Race 3. Definitely not regarding logic and plausibility; I was looking forward to some plain, unadulterated, old-fashioned cheese on screen to top off the coffee, mini samosas and cream donut on my snacks tray. Sadly, I must report that all I got in this family saga of globalised NRI goons is some stale taste of sheer inanity and randomness.

  • Motwane’s craft is indisputable. The way he sees and presents dark, rainy shadowy Mumbai hit by water woes; the way he keeps alternating between the real and fantastical. Then there’s a mind-bending bike chase across the city and its local trains. Motwane’s superhero is a vulnerable common man. He isn’t endowed with any superhuman powers, gets easily battered and brusied, could well do with the help of a karate champ and instructor next door. He isn’t invincible, his mask could well fall easily.

  • The familiar buddy formula plays it out frothy and fluffy in ‘Veere di Wedding’

  • Based on a Gujarati play of the same name, Umesh Shukla’s film is unable to leave its inherent theatricality behind. It gets unchanging in terms of the give and take between the duo and leaves the viewers static too. It stirs nothing within, leaving you unmoved. All the whimsy you would have hoped for remains confined to the tagline of the film — Baap Cool, Beta Old School.

  • If all this wasn’t enough there is a casual, pointless reference to beef lynchings and moral science lessons on mobiles and helmets. Forget the ghost, the film will leave you spooked with the many hairy male bodies on display; under the shower, in the bed. And that’s all I am saying for …

  • The film just doesn’t manage to throb with the authenticity of experience. It feels like an artificial world – virtuous but curiously inert. The depiction of violence, sex and trafficking is oblique, bashful and old-worldly. As is the forgiveness and redemption offered for all the trespasses — everything is well as long as the conscience and compassion is alive and kicking.

  • Death is the finale for only the one who dies. October underlines this with melancholy that resonates without ever turning maudlin.

  • No room for poignancy in this Abhinay Deo outing; it’s all about dredging out the essential wickedness, even in the best of human beings.

  • Rani Mukerji lords over a film that plays out predictable, pontificatory and manipulative by turn

  • The recreation of the supposedly longest ever income tax raid could have been far more tight, taut and thrilling than it turns out to be

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