Unsurprisingly, the studio’s last-gasp stamp—in the form of an against-all-odds race that somehow becomes relevant and holds the contrived key to the fortunes of our mismatched couple—is visible in the dying minutes of Dum Laga Ke Haisha. Inserted for cheap thrills, this still doesn’t take away from a charming end-credit setup that leaves us grinning all the way home. Highly recommended, and hopefully, a sign of faster times in Bollywood High.

It is easy to mistake an unpleasant viewing experience for a bad one. Badlapur is as uncomfortable as it gets, but it’s also as good as it gets. Exemplary craft apart, this film also reiterates the importance of challenging convention-an art long abandoned for the haze of commerce.

Arrange processions, food banks, blood donation drives, but it is foolhardy to infiltrate an art form beyond one’s capabilities. Perhaps it’s time to stop gracing these vain projects with endearments like ‘epic’, ‘so-bad-its-good’ and ‘cult’, and reclaim the audiovisual medium for what it is: Canvas for Storytelling. Or be prepared for many more propaganda biopics masquerading as movies—terminal blows in the ongoing roast of the Silver Screen.

If anything, Roy absolutely merits an ambiguous ending, but again, maybe the time has not come to over-decorate a risky concept. The presentation is fine and for now, an idea, in Don Cobb’s words, is the most resilient parasite.

Usually, if anyone dares to criticize the craft behind ‘well-intentioned tributes’, the perpetrator’s lack of patriotism and respect is invoked. However, today I am fighting for freedom: from mediocrity, and from oppression in cinema halls.

I is anything but uninventive car-smashing, doppelganger-farting Bollywood fare. Shankar’s brand of escapism usually clocks Thalaivaa on a scale of 1 to Tim Burton, but this is an adrenalinfueled and, hopefully, permanent step up for him.

Just like cinematic villains verbally spell out their master plans, children in this movie seem to be completely self-aware. Their lines are like recitals; a little girl who can barely pronounce her own name tells her friends that she fails purposely so that her parents don’t expect too much. It’s clear that these kids don’t know any better, and are voicing their writers’ opinions.

Bar dancer Tarannum Khan financed C-grade movies at her prime, only to have an F-grade film “loosely based” on her made a decade later.
…if this is a sign of things to come in 2015, I might consider alternate career options.

This isn’t an easy film to watch, and not each of its 127 minutes is entirely purposeful. Everyone is an antagonist; there’s not a moment when they are not driven by oppression and greed.
I disliked what I saw, and I dislike thinking or even writing about its familiar environment. And this vile aftertaste is perhaps Mr. Kashyap’s most significant achievement.

I can think of nobody but Aamir Khan as PK, and nobody but Rajkumar Hirani as our teacher. Take in what they say. Enjoy the way they say it. Make this mandatory for impressionable children waiting to hope. After all, these kids will be the ones in charge if extraterrestrials ever pop in to review our planet. And for once, let them think past the stars.