Renuka Vyavahare

Samar Mehra (Bobby Deol), a washed-out actor in his 50s, makes a living performing his lone hit song at weddings. Struggling financially and clinging to faded fame, his world comes crashing down when he is arrested on rape charges. The complainant is Gayatri (Sapna Pabbi), a woman he once hooked up with through a dating app. Samar insists he is the real victim, claiming Gayatri is a psychotic stalker seeking revenge after he ghosted and blocked her. The police counter his version by reading out their explicit text exchanges and inform him that he is accused not only of rape, but also extortion and blackmail. Soon, Samar finds himself trapped in judicial custody, with his bail hearing repeatedly delayed and eventually denied owing to the gravity of the allegations. The prison is overcrowded, filthy and hostile, with sexually frustrated rival camps eyeing the “hero” as easy prey. It takes Samar time to realise that this is not a temporary nightmare, he is in for a long and brutal ordeal. Co-directed by Anurag Kashyap, Sakshi Mehta and co-written by Sudip Sharma and Abhishek Banerjee, the story appears loosely inspired by the much-publicised case of a television actor-singer accused of rape in 2019.

Set in the conservative north Indian Adarsh Colony, single and glamorous mother Rekha (Madhuri Dixit) makes a hysterical late-night phone call to her daughters, Jaya (Triptii Dimri) and Sushma (Dharna Durga), summoning them home after discovering the dead body of her nosy neighbour, Guptaji (Ravi Kishan), inside her house. Review: As the estranged and constantly bickering sisters reluctantly reunite with their seemingly reckless mother, the chaotic trio scrambles to figure out how to manage the crime scene. But there’s a twist lurking around the corner that none of them see coming. Director Suresh Triveni (Jalsa, Tumhari Sulu) uses humour layered with tragedy to hold up a mirror to a society that views women simply existing on their own with suspicion. The resemblance to actress Rekha and the long-standing gossip surrounding her personal life and marital status inevitably come to mind. How can women thrive without being subject to the watchful gaze of men? Society’s inability to process that question forms the heart of this sharply written story by Triveni and Pooja Tolani.

Shape of Momo is a poignant semi-autobiographical drama set in the hills of Sikkim that quietly examines patriarchy, migration, and the painful process of outgrowing a home you still deeply love. Through a metaphorical title, the film explores how women are constantly “shaped” by societal expectations and inherited conditioning. At its centre is Bishnu, a 32-year-old woman who resists conformity in subtle yet powerful ways. Her quiet rebellion becomes the emotional core of the story. The narrative follows four women across three generations of a male-less household, each negotiating a society that views such a family as vulnerable, unsafe, and incomplete. Bishnu’s mother survives through caution and strategy, her sister embraces the conventional route of marriage and motherhood, while the grandmother clings to pride in her sons — one deceased, the other living abroad in Dubai, forever postponing his promise to take her with him. In the absence of a male figure, the women endure prejudice, threats to their safety, and constant undermining by workers and tenants at their orange orchard. Ironically, the film highlights how society conditions women to believe they need the presence of men for protection often from men themselves.

When a 16-year-old boy goes missing, small-town cop Pawan Malik (Saif Ali Khan) is pulled into an investigation that gradually unravels disturbing truths involving a powerful spiritual leader, child exploitation, and the deeply entrenched caste prejudices within his own family. At its core, the film is an earnest, well acted crime drama that places justice and conscience above blind familial loyalty. Pawan’s inner turmoil as a man torn between duty and love for family has been explored well. The crime drama tackles heavy societal themes like honour killing, casteism, and abuse with sincerity, but the impact is diluted by an overly predictable screenplay. The central twist is easy to foresee, leaving very little room for suspense or genuine intrigue. The narrative is thoughtful, but the execution feels underwhelming. A sharper atmospheric tone and sense of dread would have helped it find its rhythm.

A struggling Mumbai actress, Chitrangada Satarupa as Mouni, and a retired banker in Frankfurt, Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Adnan, form an unlikely connection through a series of video calls over the course of a single day. As their conversations deepen, the lines between performance and reality begin to blur, gradually uncovering buried emotions and unresolved trauma. Director Aditya Kripalani crafts an introspective indie drama driven by two compelling performances. Siddiqui stands out, especially in the emotionally charged climax, while Satarupa brings both intensity and vulnerability to Mouni. The film aims to be a layered character study, exploring empathy, anger, loneliness, and emotional unrest. However, its excessively verbose and self-indulgent writing often weighs down the narrative, making the drama feel repetitive and emotionally static at times. Since much of the story unfolds through extended virtual acting sessions, the film may struggle to connect with mainstream audiences.

Dug Dug is a satirical comedy-mystery exploring blind faith, inspired by Rajasthan’s “Bullet Baba temple”, a unique shrine where a 350cc Royal Enfield Bullet is worshipped. The film is a clever and sharply observed satire on the commercialisation of faith and belief. Set in Rajasthan, the film follows the strange aftermath of a local drunkard’s (Thakur sa) death in a road accident, after which his pink and blue moped mysteriously keeps reappearing at the accident site. The mysterious event soon transforms into a wish-granting phenomenon, drawing both the poor and the wealthy in search of miracles and hope. Concept is the hero in this promising directorial debut. The Luna and its dead owner become the central characters, which is rare for a movie. There is no lead actor or known face driving the narrative, just a subject that delightfully resonates.

An editorial crisis pushes Runway, a legacy fashion magazine grappling with ownership changes and survival challenges, to bring back Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway), now an experienced journalist tasked with rebuilding its narrative and image. Can she reunite with her former boss, Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), years after walking away? “It’s nice to be important, but it’s more important to be nice.” In an industry as cutthroat as media, this sentiment often runs cold. Success is frequently associated with being sly and ruthless, but journalist Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway), now in her 40s, continues to see it differently.

The year’s most anticipated sequel, Dhurandhar: The Revenge, with a massive runtime of 3 hours and 49 minutes (15 minutes longer than the prequel), kicks off in sync with its predecessor. The film opens with a jaw-dropping action sequence that spirals into a brutal bloodbath. Struck by a personal tragedy, Jaskirat (Ranveer Singh), an Indian army trainee, is forced to embrace his new identity. The first half is riveting and fast-paced. It wastes no time, seamlessly shifting from past to present as Hamza rises to rule Lyari and takes the fight straight to the terrorists’ stronghold.