A R Rahman shows us that he deserves the accolades for Slumdog Millionaire.
When you're a features writer, you end up having to make up lists. Of greatest this and worst that. Of gangster movies. Of soundtracks.
Raja Sen advises Aditya Chopra not to make a film that feels over a decade old.
Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye is a movie to love. And one that makes the audience feel just like the hero: really, really lucky.
In Burn After Reading, prepare to be bowled over by Chad, the man with a ridiculously botched highlight job. And he's played by Brad Pitt.
The film never quite decides what side of the comedy/drama line it should walk on, and while the thematic romance is set over only a few days time -- inexplicable, since we'd willingly believe it took longer -- the third act comes in a hurry. The denouement itself is a fine plot turn, a maternal twist robbed of its impact by a sudden rush to the finish line. And yet Sorry Bhai's final turn is progressive enough.
Putting it simply, Ghajini is a phenomenal album. You'll find -- and argue over -- your individual favourite tracks, but very honestly, this could just be one of his finest albums ever. Not just are the tracks great, but each one segues into the next with perfect unpredictability.
Pick a movie you absolutely loathe and then spend 100 words telling our columnist Raja Sen just what makes that particular movie truly godawful.
It's sad and somewhat embarrassing to watch Ghai try valiantly to sculpt a magnificent innings -- and miss his target rather spectacularly.
Raja Sen answers some of your most burning questions.
It's just that Quantum Of Solace -- this hideously named film that sounds far more appropriate to a bespectacled boy wizard than to double-o-seven -- tries so hard to appropriate the magic of the Bond franchise, of the glorious Sean Connery films and the crackling intensity of 2006's Casino Royale, that while it provides an adequately entertaining collection of action set-pieces, it fails to bring anything original to the table.
Lewis Hamilton snatched the 2008 Formula One driver's championship from Felipa Massa at the Brazilian Grand Prix, but World Championship or not, the Brazilian, who finished second in the overall standings, is motorsport's new man.
While it's easy to look at Roadside Romeo as a harmless entertainer -- and there is a chance the film will indeed score very well with young audiences -- there is an inherent danger in the way it shoves even more Bollywood down the throats of its target audience.
What if the Beatles were aces in sports? Can we compare Sachin to Paul, Saurabh to John, Laxman to George and Dravid to Ringo?
Karzzzz plot is essentially replicated, but ironically the film is dumbed down -- as if audiences of today aren't as savvy as they were a couple of decades ago. Add to that a horribly cardboard Urmila Matondkar and an inconsequential Shweta Kumar in leading roles that required actual actresses.
The Godfather, its fantastic sequel and that misunderstood third film have been spiffied up digitally and restored to super quality -- complete with remastered sound -- in a lovely box-set called The Godfather: The Coppola Restoration, and for all of us fans, it's a DVD-set we can't refuse.
There indeed exists a tribe of filmi bloggers from our very nation who use the medium wonderfully well, provide insight and perspective and humour, and deserve to be celebrated. These are the folks making sure the sky isn't falling on our heads just yet.
Abhishek Bachchan is playing some sort of mythic superhero and -- while there could definitely be something interesting bubbling under the bright-gold surface -- the actor seems decidedly miscast in the role. Again, we are judging based on pre-release imagery, but even if the role is a great one, I daresay most of us would be surprised. There's just something about Abhishek that doesn't quite lend itself to a simplistic superhero movie.
This patently unscary -- and really long -- movie drags on, testing your patience as absolutely everything goes on with uncaring, old-school predictability. It's like a half-hour script for a weak television horror episode cruelly yanked over full feature-length screentime, self-indulgently pretending it's better than random horror schlock because it's moody enough to contain dozens of repetitive silent moments. It isn't.
Strictly speaking, Righteous Kill isn't an objectionably horrid film. It isn't rank unwatchable, like Avnet's last, 88 Minutes. Yet this one's worse, because it's heartbreaking.
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