Cinema, Karam, Kapi

I went in cautious about this one—true crime dramas about real-world violence can so easily tip into exploitation, turning tragedy into spectacle.  But what struck me within the first hour was how quiet this movie is.  It doesn't dramatize the hunt for theatrical effect. Instead, it sits with something far more unsettling: the slow unraveling of a mind that believed it had solved the world's problems. The script doesn't rush to the bombings. It spends time in the cabin—Ted Kaczynski's philosophical universe, his sense of betrayal by institutions, his conviction that technology itself was the enemy.  Director Sam Esmail lets us see the logic, however twisted, that led him there. This isn't moral relativism; it's ethnographic.  We understand without being made to sympathize, which is the hardest and most important distinction to make. What gets me about the performances—particularly Paul Bettany's Kaczynski and Holt McCallany's FBI profiler Jim Fitzgera...

Long-haul flights within India are my personal screening rooms.  The Dubai to Boston sector on Emirates last week, all 15-odd hours of it, could have practically been a film festival in the sky for me, though I managed to catch just one movie “Up in the Air”. That is how I finally watched Michael , the long-awaited biopic on the King of Pop. I had consciously avoided reviews. Films about legends carry the weight of expectation. I went in curious, but cautious. I was not prepared for what followed. The film opens into the world of Joe Jackson (Colman Domingo) — cold, controlling, and convinced that talent is something you beat into a child. Literally.  There is a scene where young Michael gets thrashed with a belt, and I found myself gripping the armrest. It is not dramatised for shock. It is quiet, ugly, and real. I had to look away. Katherine Jackson (Nia Long) is the silent counterweight — loving, helpless, and heartbroken in equal measure. She holds the family together ...