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The romantics have naysaid their hobby to be a tragedy. How they meet the “someone somewhere made for them” and then Cupid conjures the sorcery of separation. This is the moniker of traditional romantic sagas. Tough on the heart and over the head, these stories attract either mushy couples or midnight loners to the cinema.  But few can digest this saccharine on-screen. This poses a challenge to the director. How to present the idea of love without making the audience cringe? How to make the film lighter? Simple. Dilute love with laughter and give rise to the adolescent potpourri called romantic-comedy, lovingly abbreviated “rom-com”.  When Harry Met Sally... (1989), the best rom-com according to Google. Image source: Amazon A Google search of the ‘best rom-com’ leads to the 1989 hit When Harry Met Sally…, a film which launched both Meg Ryan and countless spin-offs, both at Hollywood and home. The plot chronicles the chance encounters of the lead pair as they question and eventually fin

Bollywood Muslim socials have come a long way from merely qawwalis, courts and courtesans. Since the mid-‘90s they have been venturing more domestically within the Muslim milieu. How faith interplays in and gets affected by matters of the home and beyond. This is consummately evident in Shyam Benegal’s National Award winning Mammo .  Source: IMDb Written by Khalid Mohammed, the film serves as the first instalment of his Muslim trilogy. Though the films that follow ( Sardari Begum and Zubeidaa ) harken back to the stereotypical courtesans and Muslim aristocracy, Mammo is a slice of life story embittered with the macabre of the Partition and the administrative apathy in assuaging its brutal aftermath.  Mammo follows the life and times of Mehmooda “Mammo” Begum (Farida Jalal), as she visits her sister and grandson in India, coming all the way from Pakistan (on a temporary visa) to escape her abusive in-laws. Domestically and legally speaking, Mammo is homeless. At most she is (and most

The autobiographical Mahesh Bhatt did a Scorsese, but the music made up for it. Source: IMDb Sadak is the story of a suicidal and insomniac taxi driver Ravi (Sanjay Dutt) who hustles all night long to sleep and escape his nightmares. On one night shift, he meets Pooja (Pooja Bhatt) and it is typical love at first sight. He later comes to know that Pooja has become a reluctant prostitute at the brothel of the evil eunuch Maharani (Sadashiv Amrapurkar). What happens next? Watch on YouTube. No points for guessing that the film's plot blatantly lifts that of Martin Scorsese's 1976-film  Taxi Driver , albeit it shows the hero in a more positive light than the grey psychology of Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro). Unlike Bickle, Ravi does not frequent red light theatres; but like him, he is a jobless vigilante, a rebel with a cause. Sadak also plays on the pluralistic pallette of religions in India. While the "good Muslim" character of Salim bhai (Avtar Gill), the taxi owner w

It does not have those floating colourful balloons, it does not have that pumped up will to live, it has serious illnesses, but it does not feel terminal. Guzaarish is what you would like to Anand , but it isn't it. Source: IMDb Quadriplegic ex-magician Ethan Mascarenhas (Hrithik Roshan) has had enough of life and its tricks for 14 years (no, he's not 14) and demands ( guzaarish ), or rather legally petitions for euthanasia. His dutiful nurse Sofia (Aishwarya Rai) is torn between her love for Ethan and his desire to die. Meanwhile, an aspiring magician Omar (Aditya Roy Kapoor) enters their lives to learn from the once greatest magician of all. What follows is the journey of Ethan, as he garners support for his cause to die through his radio show Radio 'Zindagi' (life). What happens next? Watch on Netflix. Guzaarish is no different from other Bhansali films. It has emotions ranging from tears to fears to cheers, it has beautiful Goan/gothic aesthetics, and it has a crè

The poster, which is funnier in Hindi, reading " Yuar Most Wanted Bhai " Source: BollywoodMDB Radhe is not a bad film, it is beautiful. Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder; and you need a certain eye to sit through a Salman Khan film. An eye accustomed to a dimwitted villain, an eye prepared to see a damsel in distress ably saved by the hulky hunk, and an eye all eyes for an eye for an eye, in other words: violence. Radhe, touted as a sequel to the 2009 Prabhu Deva-Salman Khan hit Wanted, is a treat for these eyes. Though fans have been left a wee bit disappointed, Deva has meticulously maintained his decade strong manifesto of masala Bollywood.  The plot is simple. Rana, the drug lord (Randeep Hooda) is wreaking havoc in the city. He has targeted the most vulnerable of the lot: students. With friends and fellow citizens of Mumbai city bawling over their intoxicated future, a messiah awaits. Superman Salman sets off to save the day, chucking his record of transfers and

“Ye duniya agar mil bhi jaye to kya hai” Existentialism and poetry have always been best friends, meeting at the common juncture of falsafa (philosophy), Pyaasa (thirsty, or wistful) is a musical transposition of the poetry, philosophy and life of Sahir Ludhianvi, the poignant lyricist of the film’s soundtrack.  Source: IMDb Helmed by Guru Dutt, the depressed yet charismatic filmmaker, there is something antithetical to serendipity in his pitiable portrayal of Vijay, an educated unemployed youth in the India of the 50s, as nascent and vulnerable as the protagonist’s slowly corroding optimism.  Vijay inhabits a world revolving around a coin. Money makes the world go round; what sells, is bred, what does not, is discarded at the drop of a hat. Among the discarded bunch of ambitions, lie the poems of Vijay—rejected by the press, thrifted by his brothers. The scheming brother formula is still ripe for the time.  As Vijay and his miseries form the crux of the film, it dollies on the perip

It was hot. And so I pushed open the door beyond which sat misogynistic caricatures of men, discussing everything from poop to politics. And all of a sudden, the commotion which had been rattling my eardrums and intriguing the kids to come outside and partake and increase the hullabaloo―it died down. It died down in the din of the cooler. The cooler which was just a periphery became a central figure to my struggle against patriarchy. My curious friends, zeitgeist of the modern woman trapped in the dichotomy of adulation and negation, watched me make my way into the "men's room". No longer was I bound in the shackles of man-ordained womanhood, no longer did I suffocate under injustice, no longer did I feel overwhelmed by responsibilities. For the cooler took it all, away and apart in its liberating air. And silence bespoke. I was not spilling tea anymore in the kitchen, it was time for some juice . Source: IMDb Originally logged on  Letterboxd .

From 1988 to 2003, Tezaab gained so much notoriety that it metaphor-ed its way into a pious euphemism: Gangaajal. For whom? For your eyes only. Source: Reelgood Doing Singham better than and before Singham, Ajay Devgn stars in the film as the typical Bollywood upright (and chainsmoking, because of stress) cop. Along is Gracy Singh between the loop of Lagaan and Munna Bhai MBBS. They are supported by Mukesh Tiwary (or Vasooli bhai ), Akhilendra "ee to s**l* hona hi tha" Mishra and Yashpal Sharma as the typecast ruffian and the main baddy in the film: Sunder Yadav. The badlands of UP-Bihar (as corny and cliché as the alliteration may sound), have been around for quite a while to weave intriguing police stories. And Prakash Jha, though batting from home ground, bedecks the film with all micro-tropes possible. A paan eating police officer? Check. Sweet purabia lingo? Check. Aggressive/abusive purabia lingo? Check. A lackadaisical and servile police force? Check. Mysterious viole