Chalo Dilli is a seemingly innocent study of contrasts, of two worlds that mostly live in isolation and revulsion of the other — at one end is South Mumbai and at the other squats Chandni Chowk. At one end is Louis Vuitton and at the other poplin cut-pieces. Yet the heart-warming thing about us Indians, the film believes and reiterates, is that when the twain meet, one changes the other.

Just like some people don’t know their arse from their elbow, ditto it is with certain films. And Dum Maaro Dum is a very special one in that special class. The film is so soft in the head that nothing — no amount of super-duper hype, the haloed name of the Sippys and the mechanised gyrations of a refrigerated Deepika Padukone — can save this moronic inferno (sorry, Mr Amis).

It's only fair that director Mrigdeep Singh Lamba’s debut film should carry a warning: “Teen Thay Bhai bears no resemblance or relevance to the lives, fights and frights of people outside of the Punjab. It may be of no interest to non-Punjabis”. After all, it is a delightful and dippy Punjabi fairy tale.

The publicity buzz propping up Life Goes On rests on two factoids: One, that the film treats us to mummy-daughter together on screen, and two that the film is an adaptation of King Lear. I have seen the film and I can tell you two things: There was nothing spectacular about watching Sharmila Tagore and Soha Ali Khan in the same frames; and the alleged adaptation of Shakespeare’s King Lear is, well, alleged.

Yeh Faasley is a murder mystery bubble-wrapped in a far more interesting story about a lacerating marriage between a Rajasthani royal and a Jat mazdoor. The film’s main story unravels in instalments, but each time a part was revealed, I found myself staring at the discarded strip of the wrapping. The bubbles were tantalising, begging to be burst.

Tanu Weds Manu is often funny, often sweet, but also, in the end, a contrived love story that is half-an-hour too long.

THE SAME Vishal Bhardwaj, who took two of Shakespeare’s tragedies and turned one into a dark, brooding drama and the other into a deeply disturbing but rousing paean to dehati

If China breeds Tiger Moms, then India has, for centuries, fed, raised and done peri-pauna to Babbar Sher Dads. And it is at the NRI Babbar Sher Dads that Nikhil Advani’s delightful yorker, Patiala House, is aimed at.

After the opening credits roll to a song that goes “uff” at the thought of zindagi, the first word uttered by Sudhir Mishra’s Yeh Saali Zindagi is “shit”.

Sita Maiyya ke zamase se Draupadi ke heydays tak, har yug main ladies log are put through difficult-difficult tests at every stage of their lives — to check for good sanskar, for the ability to do tya