I enjoyed ‘Purani Jeans’ for its freshness in the face of familiarity, and a story that holds all the way to the end.

This is an important film, and I do hope it gets seen widely, timely and topical as it is in the time of Muzzafarnagar, misguided mullahs and modified bhakts.

I have seen it with my own eyes, and I can tell you that ‘Aankhon Dekhi’ is a fine , fine film.

Kapoor’s film is an absolute gem, because he gives us a marvelous bunch of characters who make us laugh, and pause, and think. In another film, Bauji would have come off a caricature. But here he is a man in the vital process of sloughing off dead layers, and discovering his skin. Sanjay Mishra does a terrific job of becoming Bauji.

The story, which could easily have slipped into mush, stays free of drippy sentimentality, barring one or two raised-violin scenes. This could have turned into a clichéd international-accented soup, but despite a couple of exaggerated mis-steps, it stays grounded.

To make a film whose lead actor is whiskery and doddery and just plain old so engrossing is an art. Alexander Payne brings all his craft to bear upon ‘Nebraska’, but at no point does he make us aware of it. Which is why the film works so well, in its pristine black and white frames, as it moves and judders and halts and moves again, keeping beautifully in pace with its protagonists’ inner lives.

The 1.5 hour film is an important document. Because women, usually classified with the ‘other’ backward classes, and ‘dabey-kuchley varg’, are for burning, and raping, and humiliating. Because anyone who takes up cudgels on their behalf is to be acknowledged and praised.

‘Sholay’, re-released in a 3D version, needs to be your go-to movie this weekend, no ifs, no buts. And that’s because, `Bharat desh ke vaasiyon’, ‘Sholay’ is the greatest Hindi ‘masala’ entertainer ever made, 3D, 2D or no D.

If Mehta directs unsparingly, Raj Kumar Yadav acts unflinchingly. His Shahid is a man who grows in front of us, the audience. He does a course correction and changes direction. For a Hindi film protagonist, this kind of arc is rare. So is this story, which calls a spade a shovel, and names names.

If it hadn’t been for the occasional flatness, and a couple of predictable notes, there would have been no flaws in this dabba. I also found Ila’s mother’s (Lillete Dubey) segment, included solely to underline another kind of vacantness, a little forced. But these are tiny niggles in this film that gets the rest of it so right. Batra’s characters are a delight. They may be of Mumbai, infused with intense desi flavours, but can inhabit any part of the world. You want to take them home, sit them down at your table, and savour them, one mouthful at a time.

In trying to keep it fast-moving, the film turns choppy and confusing in parts. Also, a few of the characters are a tad comic book-y, matching the ludicrousness of some dialogues. The high-flying journalist helping the hero bit feels contrived.