For this dish, you need to assemble the following. Girl. Should be able to handle guns and talk tough….
Guy. Who speaks some kind of weird mish-mash of UP-Bihari Hindi and a wildly-printed shirt, which tells us he is a) naïve and b)good-at-heart….
…Serve

Hrithik is the film’s eye candy and the prime shooter, all rolled into one, and gives you some amount of bang. The rest is burble.

I doubt if I will be able to forget the stunning visuals which dot the film, but the sum is never more than its terrific parts. The craggy old gravediggers in a scene that soars, and the truest character of the film, Haider’s father ( played by Jha), channel the continuing tragedy that is Kashmir. As do the lovely `kani’ shawls flung over the shoulders of the characters, the wispy steam rising from the `kahwa’ cups, the conflicted tears that flow out of Tabu’s eyes . If only they had a film to match.

The point of this kind of film is to be completely male-centric, guns-as-phallus, mine-is-bigger-than-yours.

Does any kind of logic or reasoning go into making these kinds of films? Putting a spotlight on the ills of child marriage– and the other things– can never be a bad thing.

As Gullu’s straight-laced but loving father, Anupam Kher gives the film its only moments of honesty. The rest is an unpalatable snoozefest.

‘Khubsoorat’ is bubblegum-y and air-headed and good-natured, and its biggest strength is that it keeps it consistent, becoming one of those films that over-delivers precisely because it under-promises.

…the film is patchily quirky. An undelivered love letter comes back to the sender, more than four decades after the fact, and it sets into motion this little tale, which leaves you both smiling, when the whimsy is just right, and impatient, when it turns flatly prosaic.

The plot is unintentionally hilarious, involving an intrepid young woman who turns up in the forest to start a lodge, loads of extras playing chefs and petrified guests, and an alleged award-winning writer. The coming of the creature leaves a trail of dead bodies, but instead of running, our heroine declares ‘I am not going’. Drum roll.

Priyanka Chopra does a good job…What it gets right is the kind of churlishness and mean-minded partisanship Indian sporting federations are beset by : the men ( and they are overwhelmingly men) who run it are not oriented towards the benefit of the players.