AnonymousbutDilpreet002

Dunki is a film of two very different halves - and it shows. The first half is packed with lame jokes that almost all fall flat. The humor feels forced, the acting is over-the-top, and the dialogues are unbearably cheesy. It's hard to sit through, with barely anything redeemable or even mildly engaging.

But then comes the second half - and it's a completely different film. Suddenly, Dunki transforms into a deeply emotional experience. It captures, with sincerity and poignancy, the struggles and realities of Indians living abroad. The narrative becomes grounded and heartfelt. By the end, I was genuinely teary-eyed.

It's one of the most brilliant and emotionally resonant second halves I've seen in a long time - a stark contrast to the first. If only the entire film had been made with the same heart and honesty.

Bulbbul is a film that leans heavily on mood, atmosphere, and visuals-and succeeds in carving a lasting impression. One of the first things that struck me was the haunting red hue that floods the screen throughout. It's more than a stylistic choice; it becomes a character in itself, setting the tone and deepening the emotional weight of the story. Visually, it's excellent.

The slow-burn storytelling is handled with a rare confidence. Anvita Dutt, who I believe is the same Anvita Dutt known for her work as a lyricist, manages to take a fairly predictable plot and still make it deeply compelling. That in itself is no small feat. The pacing, subtle reveals, and deliberate tension-building keep the viewer invested, even when they can see the general direction it's headed.

The performances across the board are strong, anchoring the film's fantastical yet grounded tone. The characters are layered, and the actors carry the weight of the story with grace and strength. Combined with striking cinematography and powerful imagery, this makes Bulbbul a memorable watch.

If you're open to unsettling themes and can stomach a few gruesome moments, this is a must-watch. It's not just a tale-it's a visual poem wrapped in folklore and pain. And it lingers long after the credits roll.

Pithamagan is a drama that unfolds in a fairly predictable manner, but what elevates it above average is the sheer power of Vikram's performance. Playing a character who's been raised in a crematorium, his role is one of very few words, with behavior that barely resembles anything typically human-yet, incredibly, Vikram makes it feel real. He doesn't just play the character; he becomes him, and the result is nothing short of astonishing. It's one of those rare performances that transcends the script and leaves a lasting impression.

Suriya and Laila bring a lighter, more entertaining touch to the film. Their characters are fun, energetic, and inject much-needed balance to the emotionally heavy narrative. They provide the spark that keeps the story from becoming too grim, and their chemistry is enjoyable to watch.

The film is undeniably character-driven. The plot serves more as a backdrop for the emotional and psychological journeys of its leads rather than being the main engine of the story. This works to an extent, but it also highlights one of the movie's weaker elements-the core friendship between Vikram's and Suriya's characters. The bond between them is pivotal to the story, yet it lacks proper buildup or exploration. The film expects the audience to accept their deep connection at face value, but the scenes shared between the two don't quite justify the intensity of that relationship. More development here could have made the emotional payoffs hit even harder.

In the end, Pithamagan succeeds largely due to its unforgettable central performance and strong supporting cast. While it may not offer much in terms of surprising storytelling, it remains a compelling watch for those who appreciate character studies and powerful acting.