The very straight, simple and oft-repeated tale of foster parents, mistaken identity, good vs evil is just another fantasy, a mishmash of many such larger than life epics.

‘Budhia Singh’ manages to break away from a whole lot of principle arcs and formulae.

Despite the heavy duty title the film plays out so flat and lifeless that the viewer couldn’t care less. What you get in the name of whimsy is sheer inanity, boredom and irritation. Some Groucho Marx masks may have been worn by the characters in a couple of the scenes in the film but that doesn’t lend the film any of Marx’s crackling humour.

Dishoom is the cinematic equivalent of masala chai; an all too familiar but giddy infusion.

Great Grand Masti had positioned itself as an adult comedy with an added zing of horror. So obviously one couldn’t go looking for cerebral humour. Crudity, vulgarity, titillation, infantility is all one expected but also hoped against hope for it to deliver a few risqué laughs. No such luck. Banal and boring is all you get.

In spite of being a Bhai film it showcases the woman’s cause — PM’s beti bachao abhiyan in the backdrop of Haryana, infamous for female foeticide and a lopsided sex ratio. What could be nicer?

More than the story itself, it is the quirky telling that is the key. Structured around eight chapters, vividly shot in the slums, pulsating with raucous music, Raman Raghav 2.0 is a taut thriller, full of energy and brimming over with tension. It doesn’t flag even once and holds the viewer tightly in its grip. Such is the dizzying momentum and pace that you even stop caring about some missing pieces of the jigsaw that would have been niggling you. Clear-cut, uncomplicated Raman Raghav 2.0 takes you on an entertainment high.

It’s about relentless exposure to a gut-wrenching reality for 148 minutes (a shorter version may have been even stronger) that I am still trying to process. It’s about the many innocent, helpless Ballis being born to drugs everyday. I came out of the screening with Balli’s cries ringing harsh in my ears. They are haunting me. Still.

Good children’s films or those with children at the centre are often as unknowingly profound for adults as they are obviously engaging for kids. Here, one stayed invested and smiled along only because of the adorable actors with Bollywood references adding to the cute appeal. But it needed a lot else.

The climax gets disappointing with its predictable, explanatory touch. As a viewer I like coming out of a mystery with questions on my mind rather than neat resolutions of all the loose ends.