I'll play on the film's USP for this review and keep it short and crisp. No extra lines. But, just like you need to read this, you need to go and watch the film. Shakun Batra's Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu is a coming-of-age film. Not for Kareena and Imran's characters, though, but for the industry and the audience. It's okay to say b-u-m without the beep. And talk sex among friends, without a beep. Admit it. Rahul Kapoor (Imran Khan) lives to please his parents. Riana Braganza (Kareena Kapoor) has dumped six boyfriends and lives life on her own terms. They meet in Vegas but the movie is not about What happened in Vegas . Instead, Imran Khan as the vulnerable Rahul evolves in front of your eyes. From uptight to edgy, he grows from boy to man. Kareena takes up from where she left off in Jab We Met . I thought this was better. She adds just the right amount of pep to Riana Braganza. Rahul and Riana don't walk off into the sunshine. The movie has a surprising climax. Amit Trivedi, the young music director comes with an impressive record. You'll remember him for the tracks from Dev D which earned him the National Film Award for Best Music Direction or for Aisha. My favourite is Iktaara from Wake Up Sid . In Ek Main … the music keeps pace with the film, so it’s fun and romantic and energetic. Everyone's already humming the soft ballad Aahatein . Aunty Ji is great fun and next big party song. Grab your munchies ahead. This one is superbly edited – there are no extra moments in the film and it compares easily to any Hollywood flick, for being a good-looking film. Seasoned actors Boman Irani and Ram Kapoor don't really add too much. Though Ratna Pathak Shah as Rahul's airhead mom is quite a treat. Pappu can't dance saala but he sure can make a film (Shakun Batra's the latest director to be launched by Karan Johar is Pappu from Jaane Tu... Ya Jaane Na 's cult song. I'll go with three and a half stars for this film plus a half for the superb editing, so four out of five. Auntiji 's do watch it. 

Comparisons are inevitable in a remake, especially when they involve Amitabh Bachchan. This is where Agneepath scores the first win. Comparisons are damned. This *is* the new Agneepath . Though it shares a name with the original and begins with a flashback, Bachchan’s larger-than-life- surma-rimmed Vijay Dinanath Chauhan is a page in movie history. A new one begins with this Agneepath . The movie begins in the strategically located hamlet of Mandwa and then moves to Mumbai. Hrithik Roshan as Vijay Dinanath Chauhan wants to take revenge for the murder of his father by drug lord Kancha (Sanjay Dutt). On the way he meets Rauf Lala (Rishi Kapoor) who becomes his godfather in crime. He grows up with girl-next-door Kaali (Priyanka Chopra) who eventually becomes his lover. The next big win is the meshing of the past and the present. This is Karan Johar’s emotional tribute to his father, the producer of Bachchan’s Agneepath . So director Karan Malhotra retains some of the classic scenes. I won’t give them all away, but this one is so masterfully done that it must be mentioned – the killing of Vijay’s father. Kancha hangs him to death – terrifying, gripping and around me - in a packed theatre – silence. This brings me to the next big win – the action – by Abbas Ali Moghul. For context, Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai was his other recent film as action coordinator. In Agneepath, there a great mix of loud swaggering noisy action and hand-to-hand combat. <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/PhotoDetail.aspx?ID=12180&AlbumType=PG&Title=Look+who%27s+just+watched+Agneepath" class="fn fl fa fs12">Look who all watched Agneepath</a> Here’s the last win before I move to the fails – yes there are a few. There’s quite a star cast in the film and they’ve come through. Hrithik remains grounded. He, like his lover Kaali, is the boy-next-door at heart. Circumstances change his life and surroundings, but his heart remains the same. The pain in Hrithik’s eyes when he returns to Mandwa, the climax, the grim Ganesh visarjan – oh there are just so many. Sanjay Dutt - don’t go by his recent quotes comparing his laugh to the Joker(!). Just go watch him. He probably kept Mission Kashmir in mind while shooting this. That one became a Hrithik Roshan film. This one is also a Sanjay Dutt film – easily among his best recent performances. The other stalwart is the ever-dependable Rishi Kapoor - completely despicable and thoroughly enjoyable through the film. And yes, he wears lots of surma around the eyes. So completely old-world Bollywood. Priyanka Chopra hangs in there as Kaali, but hers isn’t the role that you remember, simply because there’s not much to it. The music and background score by Ajay-Atul blend with the screenplay – it’s loud and boisterous and adds to the earthiness of the film. Yes – I am coming to Chikni Chameli. Katrina Kaif adds to the tempo, which incidentally picks up again with this song, as if on cue. Saw lots of happy faces in the audience around me. They loved it. What’s Mumbai without Ganpati Bappa – Deva shree Ganesha is fabulously picturised and sung by Ajay Gogavale. I loved Gun gun guna when I heard it, thoroughly enjoyed it in the film as well. Now for the few missteps in the film; the pace falters in both the first and second half despite the action. It doesn’t escape the usual Hindi film fail – it’s too long. A pointless song, a few extra flashbacks spoil a hardcore Bollywood masala flick. But here’s the thing. Watch this film because this one is unadulterated Bollywood entertainment. I’ll go with three stars and add half a star for the sheer excitement palpable in those who I watched the film with, first show this morning. Near packed attendance, hearty applause and complete silence in parts. What a bright start, it can only grow from here. Oh and Bollywood producers – please don’t piggyback trailers of your films on expected blockbusters. Tempting but do avoid – noticed huge impatience among those who trooped into the theatre to catch the first show of Agneepath on a holiday. The trailers were lost.  

Remaking a remake, Abbas-Mustan could very well have ended up helming an unwieldy mess. Instead, Players , the official remake of Hollywood’s heist flick The Italian Job (itself a remake of a British caper film of the same name) is no frame-by-frame copy. There’s enough desi masala to make it an entertaining action flick to kick off 2012 for Bollywood. I won’t reveal more about the plot than what you would already know. The Players are a gang of the best in the business who team up to steal gold worth an eye-popping amount. <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/PhotoDetail.aspx?ID=11873&AlbumType=PG&Title=Players+cast+at+Dubai+premiere" class="fn fl fa fs12"> Players cast at Dubai premiere </a> Charlie Masacarenhas (Abhishek Bachchan) leads the stylish gang. His mentor Victor Dada (Vinod Khanna) helps Charlie form his dream team, with explosives expert Bilal (Sikander Kher), illusionist Rony (Bobby Deol), Spider (Neil Nitin Mukesh), Riya (Bipasha Basu) and make-up and prosthetic expert Sunny (Omi Vaidya). They pull off the heist with some sharp action and the twists begin from there. Alan Amin (previously seen in John Abraham’s Force ) has lined up some pretty activating action – much appreciated in my theatre. <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/PhotoDetail.aspx?ID=12010&AlbumType=PG&Title=Preview:+Players" class="fn fl fa fs12">Stills: Players </a> Several of those in the ensemble cast of the film would be keeping their fingers tightly crossed; hoping Players can resuscitate flagging careers. First off, Neil Nitin Mukesh, largely off the radar after an intense performance in Johnny Gaddar , has the meatiest role. He’s done well though hopefully he doesn’t get typecast with the genre. Abhishek Bachchan shows some of the style of the Dhoom series – it’s easy to get carried off in an action flick, but he does none of that. Bipasha too shows a hint of Race with her glamourous role and that red bikini (she hasn’t worn one since Dhoom ). Sonam Kapoor, fresh from the dud Mausam , somewhat redeems herself as an actor playing the good geek Naina (hint: Neil is the wicked geek). Players ends up as a fun weekend flick, especially for action buffs. Don’t expect much from Pritam’s music – there’s none of the head-bobbing of Dhoom 2 or Race . <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/playvideo.aspx?id=220248&type=" class="fn fl fa fs12">Watch: Abhishek's ready to go for gold</a> In the second half, the movie meanders and you almost wish Abbas-Mustan would have trimmed some of the desi fat to enhance the impact of the movie. I’ll go with 3 stars for this out-and-out entertaining flick. If you wish to discuss this review with me, tweet me @<a href="https://twitter.com/#!/ndtv" class="fn fl fa fs12">NDTV</a> <iframe src='http://www.ndtv.com/common/videos/embedPlayer.php?id=220380&autoplay=0&pWidth=418&pHeight=385&category=embed' width='418' height='385' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' ></iframe> 

There's an easy way to describe Don2 without any spoilers. Think of great action flicks from the Lethal Weapon, Die Hard and MI4 series. Shake them up. Replace Nakatomi Plaza with Berlin's leading bank and there it is - Don 2 - a Bollywood take on great action flicks where Shah Rukh wants to show that being a bad-ass is fun. Post the RA.One disaster, a lot of hopes ride upon SRK to prove he is a bankable box office star and Don 2 works hard to re-establish the fact that SRK can scale walls, blow up cars, look and act menacing despite the irritating laugh (seriously, he doesn't lose that). <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/PhotoDetail.aspx?ID=11933" class="fn fl fa fs12">Don 2 @ NDTV </a> The first scene begins impressively and you wait for the return of the King as promised. The first half focuses on SRK and Boman Irani teaming up to conquer the narcotics market in Europe moving on from Malaysia to Germany, with a stopover in Zurich. Nice cars (we all heard he blew up 67 of them in the car chase, though really they didn't look like that many), great locations. I'll stop at that, because I cannot say great action. <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/PhotoDetail.aspx?ID=11955&AlbumType=PG&Title=Friends,+rivals+watch+the+big+Don+2+show" class="fn fl fa fs12"> Don 2 Premiere </a> Explosive yes, there's immense amount of shattered glass in practically every action scene. But SRK fails to deliver the action, looking unbelievable. And for all you RA.One haters, SRK does a G.One here as well, with Priyanka instead of Kareena. Boman Irani and Priyanka Chopra return from the 2006 original. Priyanka doesn't have much to do, except show some of the old chemistry with Don and bash up a few baddies. Boman Irani gets a few chuckles from the audience (he does have a witty line or two). <a href="http://movies.ndtv.com/PhotoDetail.aspx?ID=11729" class="fn fl fa fs12">Stills: Don 2 </a> Among the new entrants, Kunal Kapoor is believable, Lara Dutta is best remembered for shimmying in gold to the retro beats of Zara dil ko thaam lo (there's no Kareena here and someone's got to do it). The rest of the music by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy is nothing to write home about. Usha Uthup renders Hai ye maya , an almost James Bond-ish touch with that deep bass. 3D is a waste, so don't fret if you haven't booked for a 3D show. In fact, don't fret if you haven't booked a show at all. The King is yet to return. Meanwhile since Hrithik's cameo is the highpoint of the film and the plot does have a few interesting twists, I'll go with 2.5 stars, for the film. If you wish to discuss this review with me, tweet me @<a href="https://twitter.com/#!/ndtv" class="fn fl fa fs12">NDTV</a> <iframe src='http://www.ndtv.com/common/videos/embedPlayer.php?id=219209&autoplay=0&pWidth=418&pHeight=385&category=embed' width='418' height='385' frameborder='0' scrolling='no' ></iframe>  

Luckily for Tom Cruise, Mission: Impossible — Ghost Protocol is one of his finest action flicks, just what's needed to potentially restore some of this fallen star's box-office bankability. For director Brad Bird, though, the fourth "Mission," rock solid as it is, ranks only as his second-best action movie, after the animated smash The Incredibles . Cruise may be the star here, but Bird's the story, a director who's only making his fourth movie and, remarkably, just his first live-action feature. This is the best of the "M:I" movies, far better than Brian De Palma's original, No. 2 by John Woo and even the franchise's previous high with No. 3 by J.J. Abrams, who stuck around as producer on this one. Those three filmmakers had years and years of action stuff behind them with real, live actors. Yet along comes Bird to show that the enormous talent behind his Academy Award winners The Incredibles and Ratatouille and his acclaimed cartoon adventure "The Iron Giant" transfers mighty nicely from animation to the real world. Granted, this is the real world, "M:I"-style, where Cruise's missions and stunts truly are impossible by the laws of physics and normal, plausible storytelling constraints. But Bird applies the anything-can-happen limitlessness of cartoons and just goes for it, creating some thrilling, dizzying, amazing action sequences. If you have the slightest fear of heights, grip the arm rests tightly and press both feet flatly to the floor during Cruise's attempt to scale the world's tallest building; even safe in your seat, an unnerving feeling of vertigo is bound to result as you stare down from the 130th floor. For all the complexity of the action and gimmicks, Bird and screenwriters André Nemec and Josh Appelbaum (executive producers on Abrams' "Alias") wisely tell a simple, good-guys-against-bad-guys story. They keep Cruise surrounded by a tight, capable supporting cast in Jeremy Renner, Paula Patton and Simon Pegg, who co-starred in "Mission: Impossible III." The movie starts with a clever jailbreak by Cruise's Ethan Hunt, stuck in a Moscow prison for reasons unexplained until late in the story, then serves up an opening-credit montage fondly reminiscent of the old Mission: Impossible TV show. Once free, Ethan is dispatched to infiltrate the Kremlin along with Impossible Missions Force agents Jane Carter (Patton) and Benji Dunn (Pegg). But it's all a setup by madman Kurt Hendricks (Michael Nyqvist), who sets off a devastating explosion at the Kremlin to cover his theft of a Russian nuclear launch device and manages to finger Ethan's team for the blast. With U.S.-Russian tension at its worst since the Cuban missile crisis, the threat that's always hung over the IMF team comes to pass: the secretary (Tom Wilkinson) disavows knowledge of their actions, leaving Hunt and his comrades on their own as they try to clear their names and stop Hendricks from instigating nuclear war. Joining them is Wilkinson's aide, William Brandt (Renner), a guy who takes to field work a little too easily to be the desk-jockey analyst he claims he is. Cruise looks shaggy, and sure, we could blame his bad haircut on the fact that Ethan's just out of prison. But it doesn't help an aging screen idol to look so unkempt; the Mission: Impossible world routinely defies reality, so would it have been so far-fetched for Ethan to stop by a salon before heading back into action? What Cruise does on screen is pretty much the same-old. Ethan runs, Ethan leaps, Ethan bashes faces, Ethan violates traffic laws, Ethan runs some more. Cruise has two main modes in his acting repertoire: flash that thousand-watt smile or play the stone-face, and he mostly does the latter here, so honestly, Ethan's not all that interesting when he's standing still and talking. That work ethic of Cruise, though, shows in every one of the spectacular action moments. For the climb up Dubai's 2,700-foot Burj Khalifa skyscraper, the filmmakers claim they had planned to re-create part of the building's exterior and have Cruise scale it on a safe soundstage. But Cruise wanted to climb the real thing, so much of the sequence was filmed with him harnessed to the building more than 1,000 feet up. Cruise has reined in the "gone bonkers" antics of his private life that turned off so many fans, and if he's willing to dangle himself in the air like this, maybe it's time people think about giving him a break. Renner's a great addition to the cast, and if there are more missions down the road, hopefully he'll be back. He exudes class, intelligence, warmth and humor to counter Cruise's often robotic Ethan. Patton is almost too gorgeous to exist, let alone be some junior field agent instead of a supermodel. But she's a tough, wily presence, particularly in a showdown with an enemy assassin (the nearly as gorgeous Lea Seydoux). And Pegg is Pegg, the comic relief who adds some decent chuckles. Nyqvist, the male lead in the Swedish version of "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," shows hints of the unhinged villain he no doubt could play with relish. But he's unfortunately shackled by a few brief scenes that never give him a chance to unleash his inner Blofeld. Ghost Protocol ends with a talky epilogue that feels tacked-on and trite, though it offers a couple of cameos from Mission past. Whatever the movie's shortcomings, director Bird more than compensates with a bullet train of action and an arsenal of cool gadgets. Maybe making cartoons has expanded his conception of what's possible in a live film. Bird does it so well, you don't really care how impossible it all is. Mission: Impossible — Ghost Protocol , a Paramount Pictures release, is rated PG-13 for sequences of intense action and violence. Running time: 132 minutes. Three stars out of four. 

Robert Downey Jr is currently carrying two movie franchises - the Marvel Iron Man proto- Avengers thing for Paramount and the brawling steampunk Sherlock Holmes series for Warner Brothers - so it is perhaps understandable that he is showing a touch of fatigue. In the new Holmes adventure, A Game of Shadows , his imperiousness is hard to distinguish from boredom, and he seems to be in a hurry to spit out his lines, take his lumps, throw his punches and collect his paycheck. Can a movie be hyperactive and lazy at the same time? Clever and idiotic? If the director is Guy Ritchie, the questions answer themselves. Like its predecessor Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows confects a smoky, overcast Victorian world, infuses it with an air of jocular, hairy laddishness and stages a lot of fights in fussy and tiresome slow motion. There is a plot, but no real intrigue, mystery or suspense, and no inkling of anything at stake beyond a childish and belligerent idea of fun. What a shame. Arthur Conan Doyle's detective, with his violin, his deerstalker and his steel-trap mind, has been one of the most resilient and adaptable figures in Anglophone popular culture. He has been updated, travestied and conscripted into preposterous tales so many times - including by Doyle himself - that it is silly to hold his character sacred, or to scold Mr. Ritchie for taking liberties. But you would think that a man of such reputed brilliance and erudition (I'm talking about Holmes) would at least know how to pronounce the word "heinous" or use "crescendo" properly in a sentence. And you would think that a brewing showdown between Holmes and his nemesis, Moriarty (Jared Harris), would involve intrigue, suspense and devilish plots and counterplots. Not that thinking is in any way relevant. There are a few dabs of sophistication - the witty, walrussy presence of Stephen Fry as Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother; a disquisition on Schubert's great lieder and a morsel of Mozart's Don Giovanni - but these feel random and perfunctory. The real point of the movie is the bantering byplay between Holmes and Watson (Jude Law) punctuated by punches, explosions and action sequences as bloated and pretentious as a 10-minute drum solo on a live album by a second-rate art-rock band from the '70s. Rachel McAdams bustles through the action in a bustle; Noomi Rapace lingers a bit longer in long tresses and Gypsy garb. There is not enough of Eddie Marsan and just enough of Mr. Harris, sneering through a ginger beard, to make you root for the Napoleon of Crime against the foppish fool from Baker Street. Who is oddly mopey this time out, as if needing to reassure us of his sensitive, vulnerable side. Poor Sherlock. He is so desperate for attention, so needy - perhaps because of the competition from the likes of Tom Cruise and Tintin - that you are likely to reach the point of exasperation long before Watson does. 

Dawn isn’t the only thing that gets broken in The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn — Part I , the latest and best of the movies about a girl, her vampire and their impossible, ridiculously appealing — yes, I surrendered — love story. Marked by a canny mix of violence and chastity, the franchise has always had plenty of broken heads to go along with its pure thoughts, but here it also features a marital bed reduced to kindling after a rough night. If that doesn’t sound like the series that has kept millions of prepubescent viewers virtuously rapt, you’re right. But little Bella is all grown up now, and while Edward is still more zomboid than juicily predatory, this time not everything else on screen is dead too. With only four books in Stephenie Meyer’s chart-busting series (as opposed to the seven Harry Potters), the people behind the Twilight movies can be forgiven for stretching out the screen experience for as long as possible. And, after all, so much does happen in this movie, which takes the arc of human experience — birth and death and everything in between — and works it up into a rich, sudsy lather. In the past, Bella (played with increasing confidence by Kristen Stewart) has been almost eclipsed by Edward (Robert Pattinson), his bloodsucking brood and their battles. Here, though, she returns as the emotional and psychological cornerstone in a series in which the center of gravity has shifted from frenzied action and reaction to love. The movie opens shortly before Bella and Edward’s wedding at his family digs — a luxe affair decked in white and foreshadowed by a nightmare steeped in red — which reunites many of the principals, with the exception of Jacob (Taylor Lautner), who’s off sulking, having lost his claim on Bella. Poor wolf never stood a chance; vampires aren’t just hot, they have, in recent years, also become the favorite go-to romantic male lead, the last, possibly sole defense against the nice-guy tide embodied by the Apatowesque freaks and geeks and their bromantic brethren. The vampire, in other words, is the only man (other than George Clooney) who can still sweep a woman off her feet — so what if he’s actually dead? Being dead, in truth, gives the male vampire a great romantic advantage, because it allows him to engage in the kind of old-fashioned dash and derring-do — with one arm around the girl and the other smacking away foes — that might be laughed or scolded off the screen. One of the complex pleasures of the Twilight movies is the absolute sincerity with which they’ve revived the unironic romantic male lead, an ideal that works (when the movies do, anyway) because it’s Bella who actively, even desperately, desires Edward. He’s her choice, not that of her parents or anyone else. First came kissing, now comes marriage, a surprisingly rollicking honeymoon and, almost immediately, a horrendous pregnancy that the director Bill Condon makes so palpably disturbing that it might cause David Cronenberg, the master of body horror, to wince. Mr. Condon handles the little bit of action in Breaking Dawn capably, but it’s his work with (and sometimes around) the actors and his ability to translate ideas visually that lifts this movie above the rest. When Bella first appears, she enters wobbling in uncharacteristic towering heels, an image that instantly suggests her unsteadiness before her wedding, and, as she moves toward the altar, Mr. Condon further telegraphs her unease by filling the screen with red rose petals that turn into a sanguineous hallucination. Crucially and as important, Mr. Condon, whose earlier films include Dreamgirls and Gods and Monsters , can also offer up, and without a suggestion of filmmaker embarrassment, the sight of Mr. Lautner ripping off his shirt. As Jacob, Edward’s long-suffering, oft-rejected rival for Bella’s affection, Mr. Lautner has plenty of reasons to strip angry: he can turn into a wolf, for starters, and Jacob’s musculature has long been one of the most special of the movies’ effects. That’s reason enough for Mr. Condon to get the character’s shirt off, as is the unavoidable truth that Mr. Lautner, whose pumped physique and flat affect bring to mind one of those friendly pizza delivery boys in a pornographic movie, remains a dish best served with as few words and clothes as possible. Though he smolders well enough (if no longer sparkles), Mr. Pattinson is scarcely any better than his brother in beefcake. If that doesn’t matter, it’s because Mr. Pattinson’s heaviest lifting is over. His character is already well sketched in, and now all that remains is for the actor to play the part of the passionate, potentially dangerous vampire husband, which he — or, rather, his smart director — conveys with the startling image of Edward’s hands clenching the honeymoon bed until it explodes under his powerful touch. This image of sexual rough play is further capped the next morning by bruises now tattooing Bella’s body, branding that — along with her smiles (a private reverie reminiscent of Diane Lane’s post coital raptures in “Unfaithful”) — shifts the story into another world. Mr. Condon works in that world fluidly, gilding it with a necessary sense of humor — Bella and Edward’s white honeymoon bed glows as portentously as an altar for a sacrificial virgin — and imbuing it with a love and a gift for melodrama. He slathers on the music (“melodrama” comes from song or music drama), lets Ms. Stewart rock and the emotions roil. He resurrects the awkward teenage yearning that enlivened the first Twilight movie, but also transforms that initial, crude hunger into something deeper. Mostly, he brings Bella toward her happily-ever-after by giving this movie over to her, her dreams and her desires, as in a cosmic montage sequence worthy of The Tree of Life , but, you know, shorter. Edward may finally change Bella, but it’s Mr. Condon who resurrects her. 

It's an old cliche that the world is what it is not because of bad men, but because of good men who watch and do nothing. We all have a strong sense of personal justice. But ask yourself if you saw something so wrong happening with others that it churns your guts, would you poke your nose into it? Even if you did, how far would you go? Far enough to risk your life and limb? Kathryn Bolkovac (Rachel Weisz), a US police officer in Bosnia on a UN peacekeeping mission, discovers that her own colleagues are involved in a sex and trafficking racket of young women. She interferes, not realising it to be an international conspiracy. She soon finds herself to be a lone fighter against a system that involves the military, MNCs and governments. The history of the world is usually about emperors and dictators. But a footnote of history is dominated by misfits who refuse to be mute spectators. They are first coaxed, bribed and then beaten and often killed by the system they threaten. But make no mistakes, it is these who stand up and blow the whistle. It's these who count in the end. For they break through impregnable walls, bruised and battered in battle they still carry on. And though their head may be cut, it remains unbowed to the injustice around. Whatever good exists in the world, it is largely due to these maverick whistleblowers who defy even their own puny stature to try the impossible. This film does both, pays homage to their indomitable courage, and recounts their impossible travails. The Whistleblower works because it plays like a thriller. It does an extremely good job in building up dramatic tension, even though the creative liberty taken from the real story may feel improbable in the end. Rachel Weisz's right mix of innocent vulnerability and inner strength carries the film forward and gives out the message that justice often needs to be an inside job. The good thing about US whistleblower films is that a viewer knows beforehand that the protagonist will win in the end. Americans, after all, are known to celebrate success. Reality, however, is slightly different. In the real world, the people in the true story on which the film is based roam free. Thankfully, this little injustice will not deter those who seek justice for others. For whistleblowers in truth are the vigilante superheroes of the real world. And their superpowers include an indomitable will, a passion for justice and a belief that what they do matters. To these men and women, we truly owe the world.  

Paranormal Activity 3 is a surprising film. Yes, horror films are expected to shock. Yet the beauty of this film lies in it managing to give you the creeps even after you have seen the first two. You realise that there isn't much new added to this one. That it does so without being cheeky or over the top, is its greatest strength. After hearing strange sounds in his new house, a wedding videographer in 1988 decides to fit the house with cameras to record these paranormal activities. His younger step-daughter however seems to have befriended the paranormal entity even as the incredulous wife, despite proof, refuses to believe, that is until something scares her out of her skin. You have seen the first two and you know how the story progresses and what happens. You are supposedly immune to the chills and fears since you know how and where it comes from. What will surprise you hence, is how this film, despite your self-assurances, manages to sneak up on you and terrorise you. Just like the first two, this one does not aspire to explain anything to the audience. Neither does it try bigger sound or visual tricks. Instead, it relies on the proven formula and tricks of the first two films, and manages to scare you in the same surreal fashion. Charlie Chaplin is undoubtedly the greatest filmmaker ever and will perhaps remain so till the death of cinema. The reason for this is that his films understand the importance of the purity of cinema to squeeze emotion out of its audience. What Chaplin did with the comedy genre, the Paranormal Activity series does with horror. Yet, it was by no means the first to do so. How can anyone forget the game changer - Blair Witch Project . Yet, the difference between the two films of this series, and the three of Paranormal is that while the former tried to do something different in its sequel, the latter absolutely refuses to do so. In playing the same tricks it played in the first, and explaining as little, or even less, it teaches one of the greatest lessons of filmmaking - that simplicity and minimalism backing a good plot can often do more than expensive visual effects and a complex plot line. Usually, a sequel tries to outdo its original. Surprisingly, Paranormal seem to have no such aspirations with all three films relying on the same bag of tricks. That it continues to feel so fresh, is indeed the most paranormal activity in the series.  

<b><a href='http://movies.ndtv.com/Ndtv-Show-Special.aspx?ID=637'; style='color:#003399'>Write your reviews for the last Harry Potter film</b></a> Childhood ends, this time forever, with tears and howls, swirls of smoke, the shock of mortality and bittersweet smiles in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 , the grave, deeply satisfying final movie in the series. A pop cultural happening extraordinaire, the Potter movies took uncertain flight in 2001 with Harry, then an orphan of 11, home alone with his grotesquely unloving relatives. Times were grim, at least off screen — the first opened in November of that year — but Chris Columbus’s directorial touch was insistently light as Harry was initiated into a world alive with odd doings, strange creatures and the evil that would almost consume it. A decade later Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and his friends, Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Grint), have become powerful adult wizards while the actors are now stars. Look closely and you can see the beard inching along Harry’s, or rather Daniel's pale chin. Meanwhile, Emma, smoldering in bruising dark lipstick on the cover of the July Vogue, has her own hair and makeup artist, and the director, David Yates, even trains the camera on her generous peekaboo cleavage. Just as startling is the transformation of Rupert Grint who, in one early, anxious scene wears a goatee and a panicked look that together suggest a junior Paul Giamatti. My, how the children have grown — and the movies too. It’s taken two of them to translate J K Rowling’s last, exhausting tome. A long windup to the new one’s big-bang finale, Part 1 was memorable for the death of the house elf Dobby and less so for the draggy scenes of Harry, Hermione and Ron hiding and quarreling in the wild. There’s no time for adolescent angst in war. Now, when a student (he who shall not be named so as not to ruin the fun) declares his affection for another — the air electric with fire, frenzy and young love (if never lust) — it’s because, as he says, both may soon be dead. Fans of the books know how it turns out, and moviegoers can guess. Meanwhile, this declaration, especially given the casualties to come, may fill you with feeling and also make you cry. I did, partly because it’s been unexpectedly moving growing older with these characters and actors perhaps simply because it’s invariably poignant watching children become adults. However uneven they were at the start, the three young leads were irresistible simply because they were so young, unformed and vulnerable (like their characters). Emma was the most assured, while Rupert was the natural (and still is). Daniel, button-cute, capable, opaque, was tougher to warm up to. But it’s pointless to think of anyone else. He became Harry, Harry is him and Daniel's depthless quality now seems right for a character who, in the books and movies, was never as interesting as the magical world he revealed to us. He has evolved enough as a performer that he makes a steady hub for the busily spinning parts, even as Emma and Rupert, whose characters are drifting toward their fate, have less to do. All three have nice moments in this movie, but it’s the older adults who take center stage. Much has rightly been made over the years about how the franchise became a platform for some of the best British actors working, a truism that brought it force and gravity as one after another great — Michael Gambon, Gary Oldman, Emma Thompson, Jim Broadbent, Maggie Smith, David Thewlis, Jason Isaacs — stepped up, often wonderfully. Here it’s Ralph Fiennes and Alan Rickman who give the master class in acting. As Lord Voldemort, the evil wizard who could not be named for ages but has been for a while, Ralph has been part of the mix since the fourth film ( The Goblet of Fire ). Over the course of the series, as Voldemort gathered in power and corporeality, his wrenched, Medusa-like face eventually growing a body (though oddly losing its nose), the actor started to fill out the character with sharp, indelible gestures, a flick of the wrist, a twist of the mouth. In Part 2 his whispering hiss of a voice slithers into ears like a snake, seducing and terrorizing. But watch Ralph's hands, look as they flutter, their white, spidery fingers idling with exquisite delicacy as the long nails, sharpened into perfect arrows, threaten the worst. This is such great screen villainy it makes you regret there wasn’t more of Voldemort all along and more too of his incarnations as another gifted boy wizard, Tom Riddle. The books, fat with detail and detours into the past, gave J K Rowling loads of room to play. With only two or so hours of story time, the movies have been forced to sacrifice swaths of her material, and while the scripts have been largely models of adaptation — most, this one included, are by Steve Kloves — the emphasis on action (and interminable games of quidditch) was also a concession to the action-imperative of the modern blockbuster. (A deadly dull game that served as a rehearsal for war, quidditch is one Hogwarts tradition I was happy to see burn.) David Yates, who brought the series into its mature stage with the fifth feature, The Order of the Phoenix , gets it mostly right in Part 2 . The movie, the eighth, is tightly focused and as somber and unsettling as it should be considering its apocalyptic events. It’s also often beautiful, washed in gray and so drained of other color that at first it looks as if it’s in black and white. It’s no wonder: David has kicked into Manichaean mode — and it’s the fight of good against evil, wizards against Voldemort and his hordes — so the director can be forgiven for almost overplaying the fascist overtones (the students rhythmically marching in the opener are nearly goose-stepping) if not for the juvenile St. Crispin’s Day speech at the end. Although a few scenes feel calculated to work as synergistic complements to the Harry Potter Empire beyond — like the overlong swooping rail ride that turns a spooky cavern into a theme park — these pass quickly. One of the great and surprising satisfactions of the series is how, through the very fine and less so movies, it maintained its storytelling and filmmaking integrity, despite the corporate imperative. The love of the fans helped keep the series on track, as did the filmmakers (technicians included) and performers. The movies have affirmed that the relationship between mass art and its consumers is at times incredibly rich, evident in the mind-blowing fan culture of Potter world. Also: blockbusters can be awfully good. This bigness is no small thing. There are times, particularly during the enervating summer season, when it can seem as if Hollywood has forgotten how to put on a really big — and great — show. (Perhaps the studios should just hand over more blockbusters to the British: Christopher Nolan, after all, is London-born.) It isn’t often in the summer that you enjoy the intense pleasure of a certain kind of old-fashioned cinema experience, the sort that sweeps you up in sheer spectacle with bigger-than-life images and yet holds you close with intimately observed characters and the details that keep your eyes and mind busy. Too often it can be hard to see the human touch amid the industrial machinery, which hasn’t been true here. One reason the movies work is that their scale never overwhelmed the extraordinary characters, especially the wizards whose very ordinary habits, prejudices, quirks and fears made this fantastical world recognizable. Over time the special effects have grown more special, but at their finest these are so seamlessly integrated that they no longer pop off the screen (even in 3-D) and instead serve the story’s emotional realism. When you see the albino dragon in Part 2 , you may marvel at the technical virtuosity of its creation and how the muscles on its flanks clench with palpable effort as it looks down at a cityscape much as King Kong once did. Yet what lingers is how quickly this computer-made creature becomes a character. That dragon and Ralph make this final Harry Potter movie soar, as do Michael Gambon's brief turn and Maggie Smith's furious and then visibly delighted marshaling of an army of stone soldiers. Finally, too, there is Alan Rickman, who as Snape, Harry’s longtime nemesis, lifts the movie to its expressive high point. First seen standing in a window shaped like a coffin, Snape enters gravely, a picture of death. Pale and unsmiling, his black hair framing his white face like mourning crepe, he has always suggested Laurence Olivier’s Richard III, an ominous thought with children in the vicinity. That Snape has proven worthy of that comparison is partly a tribute to J K Rowling but that he has become such a brilliant screen character is due to Alan Rickman, who helped elevate a child’s tale of good and evil into a story of human struggle. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). The fighting is very intense, if largely bloodless, but be warned that several beloved characters do die and that is upsetting.