The Film Is Consumed By Its Commitment To Beauty And Boredom…The film decorates, pauses, gasps, whispers, sighs, romanticizes and ultimately chokes on its own derived sense of (slam) poetry

A Second-Hand History Lesson In Third-Rate Politics…

A Decent Kashmir Premise Undone By Its Desire To Be Heard…No Fathers In Kashmir is scripted smartly but the execution is a bit muddled, almost as if the director decides to compromise his awareness in favour of on-the-nose activist filmmaking

RAW never really examines its main character’s obvious identity crisis and his conflict of faith – partly due to the actor’s limited abilities, but mostly due to the mood of our times

For a director whose breakthrough film centered on a woman out for revenge under the ruse of impending motherhood, Badla remains forcibly consistent to this oeuvre of maternal rage. Only, it focuses on the other side of the kahaani, which is why you can see the strings and the puppeteers running the show. Making something – or someone, in this case – look better than it is maybe an art, but it is clearly a dying one.

I dozed off during one of the “hysterical” situations involving a temple and a beard (don’t ask), and woke up only to realize that everyone in the frame was still…speaking. Monsieur Aaryan was quiet, bruised, stunned, hands on head, oblivious to the noisy characters around him. At this point he looked like the existential protagonist of a social message drama about an abusive marriage between film critics and their rants about cash-grabbing comedies. That would explain the beard. And the tattered clothes.

The Best Part About This Film Is That It Is Not A Sex Comedy…In this diluted adult spin on children’s humour, everyone is a Cartoon Network character, making faces at the camera as if it were a two-year-old infant

The film is so incompetently crafted, terribly performed and transparently petty that it isn’t even pathetic enough to be panned as a “propaganda” movie

The most disheartening part about Simmba is its bipolar pursuit of relevance. The setup was the film; there was no need to embrace the guileless-sermon path. Just letting Singh play the fool, without hindrance, might have finally lent credence to the Rohit Shetty School of non-storytelling.

This is basically a paranoid movie embracing social relevance to compensate for daring to accessorize a tragedy through the medium of art. Given the current climate, these inclinations aren’t surprising. After all, you know a film is on shaky ground when it’s a natural disaster that must rescue it from being a man-made disaster.