Between its many, many confused, underdeveloped, raucous ideas, hides the film Saala Khadoos set out to be. Too bad it never made it to the screen.

Mistaking intent for quality, Chalk N Duster’s greatest drawback is that it tries to take the high moral ground without substantiating its material or projecting the least bit of depth…

Considering the treatment it got by the censor board, I don’t know if Angry Indian Goddesses changes anything. Still, it’s so good to see a film that revels in womanhood as much as this one. 

A lot of visible effort has gone in designing Prem Ratan Dhan Payo’s opulence and scale but ultimately it is just lacklustre, recycled fare from a man stuck on men versus women sporting contests, midnight kitchen rendezvous and the pristine aura of Prem.

The last one still holds good. Rest is just rah-rah.

As one of the characters quizzes, why must we do every thing out of necessity, why can’t few things done for the fun of it, Shaandaar is simply fun, fun, fun and frothy enough to pull it off.

A mostly watchable thriller marred by its director Sanjay Gupta’s penchant for excesses — a greenish yellow filter that renders the frames more sickly than stylish unless it’s some sort of bizarre metaphor for Ash’s light eyes brimming in agony, a pounding background score that’s so commonplace it serves little purpose and terribly reckless use of slow-motion.

It’s the kind of laughable progressive where Akshay first elicits women empowerment (a forced afterthought in too many movies lately), gleefully watches his feisty heroine batter a bunch of baddies into pulp only to be downgraded into a powerless spectator watching her hero take down more men then Sunny Deol must have tackled in Gadar through its over-the-top, prolonged climax.

An easy, breezy office space confection that doesn’t require much of your time or intense emotions, I exude a distinct charm, one that’s rarely seen in pop-culture obsessed material today.

It’s as how Ben describes his handkerchief ritual, “one of the last vestiges of the chivalrous gent.”

The few jokes that do work in this illogical, tardy drivel have more to do with how idiotic they are then amusing. But mostly you cringe at the sight of Kapil posing next to the full moon from a multi-storey’s terrace whilst his starry-eyed wives conduct the Karva Chauth ritual for the four-timing half’s long life.

Katti Batti is infuriatingly indecisive… Even a radiant Kangana cannot rescue it.