There are few things to complain about with Bobby Jasoos. It’s a delightful caper with a lot of heart, and you root for both the film and it’s protagonist all the way till the end.

Citylights’ frighteningly carnivorous undertow singularly restores Mumbai’s reputation as India’s most absolute cinematic city.

The magnitude of brutality and shock is always amplified if preceded by brighter times, but in Children Of War, there is rarely any cause for hope or joy and sadness is only succeeded by further despair. I recommend its power to feel alive, but this isn’t for the faint-hearted.

You know exactly how it’s going to end, you know this is technically a partition story set within the simplistic confines of a low-budget (anti) war drama. Yet, it is riveting to witness their body language, their lapse in ideologies, when facing the wrong end of a smoking Rifle. These are two artistes at the top of their game, engaging us in a battle that is not theirs to fight.

The admirable part about this cleverly-mounted liberal dialogue is that despite its mid-90s setup, this film refuses to take sides. Khan tries too hard to stick to a multi-tracked parallel setup though, and perhaps loses out due to the absence of a sole protagonist. At times, he tilts towards an idealistic newly-transferred cop, but stops short of giving him a voice. Still, this unfamiliar balanced treatment only adds to its topicality today, at this moment, in a country on the verge of a fierce political revolution.

It is disconcerting to suddenly be told that ghosts don’t always result in horror films. In India, they almost never do, because we end up laughing at the screen anyway. Perhaps the term ‘horror comedy’ generates from here. This is also the self-referential humour Bhoothnath Returns, the sequel to Bhoothnath, excels at.

Lakshmi is not without its flaws; the sort of topical theme Madhur Bhandarkar would have chosen at his prime. It makes you cringe for important reasons though, and must be watched for its relentless pursuit of relevance and authenticity.

Queen almost defies its bloated running time. I say ‘almost’ because one too many moments of enlightenment are piled on towards the end, none of which are surprising. This is instantly forgiven though, as soon as some very innovative end credits begin to roll.

I doubt you will see a more important film this year. Gulabi Gang is an ideology, a searing exercise in awareness, which is why you must make this your mandatory watch this weekend.

Highway makes for the kind of cinema we need, perhaps not something we entirely deserve. Even if you aren’t moved by its unhurried simplicity, or do not agree with this review, I challenge you to resist an overwhelming urge to rush out after dark hoping to get kidnapped (or simpler, just take off) to the foothills of the Himalayas. In that itself, is the battle won by a film that strives for little more.