Oh yes, Special Chabbis is my second favourite film of 2013 so far.

In terms of filmmaking, David is an uncompromised experiment and steers clear of comfort zones crediting its viewers’ capability to join dots without excessive spoon-feeding, a practice that eludes mainstream Hindi cinema.

What could have been an engrossing take on modern-day relationships in a frantic, workaholic culture is single-handedly destroyed by warped publicity and ridiculous conclusions.

In the end, Chakravyuh is nothing more than an average action flick in the garb of relevant cinema where socio-politico turmoil is nothing more than a prop and gun-toting militants in uniforms and bandanas hollering ‘Lal Salaam’ fill up the frames.

Often it is this hold on the viewer through constant influx of escapism and pomp with magnificently choreographed songs, razzle dazzle of colours/style/design, appropriate dosage of humour and ritzy production values that distracts one from Student of the Year’s brash celebration of superficiality and obvious lack of depth.

There’s no sign of character fatigue or repetition. Armed with superb writing and a keen understanding of Kanji’s convictions and qualms, the actor grabs his viewer’s attention from start to finish. Like the remark of the guy in the shop, ‘Bande mein dum hai, yaar.’

If you discount the enduring cliché in Kurush Deboo’s presence, SFKTNP celebrates the cultural stereotypes of this cozy community with lighthearted and inoffensive humour. It’s certainly nowhere as grating and overbearing as the other Bhansali, Sanjay Leela’s proclivity for regional excesses as witnessed in Devdas and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. The toning down is some accomplishment for the King of Extravagance given that he has both — produced and written the film.

Ek Tha Tiger has a lot going for it with its two certified stars no one will contract an eyesore looking at and a supporting cast (Ranvir Shorey, Girish Karnad) that never lets you down along with plush production values typical to a Yash Raj product.

The screenplay is just as dim-witted. In one of the scenes, Leone hands Hooda a love letter, which the latter sniffs as if it’s English Lavender. It’s some cheap brand of stinky orange-red ink, of course, passed off as Leone blood scribbling lines you’ll only read in amateur teen romances, ‘You came into my life like the moon.’

Bol Bachchan is dispensable cinema, forgotten almost immediately after it’s over. What I kept wondering is how does Asrani who acted in Mukerjee’s acclaimed films like Chupke Chupke, Abhimaan, Bawarchi feel about working in the remake of a film where the hero wore his kurta. Don’t know what I’m talking about? You deserve Bol Bachchan. But if you do, you must have already begun scouting for your copy of Gol Maal somewhere.