Movie Reviews
Lucky Baskhar Review: Luck Favors Baskhar
BOTTOM LINE
Luck Favors Baskhar
RATING
2.75/5
CENSOR
U/A, 2h 30m
What Is the Film About?
Baskhar (Dulquar Salman) is an ordinary guy with a near-poor life. He works as a cashier at Maghada Bank in Bombay. The financial circumstances around him eventually force him to take the wrong path. The movie’s basic story is what happens when Bashkar takes the wrong route and how it impacts him and his family.
Performances
Dulquar Salman perfectly fits Baskhar’s role. The film offers him dual shades primarily and other small variations making it a well-rounded affair for him.
It also helps that Dulquar Salman’s is the only character in the movie with a proper character arc. From a simple guy to a greedy ultra-rich person, the transition is neatly and naturally conveyed without any exaggerated emotions. He sails through the proceedings with his natural charm and style and with subtle emotions. Be it anger, frustration or extreme happiness, there is always an economy in emotion and it’s well captured.
Meenakshi Choudhary gets a decent role. She looks good and has a couple of moments to show her dramatic skills. They are simple and do the trick for her.
Analysis
Venky Atluri of Tholi Prema and Sir fame directs Lucky Baskhar. It is a rags-to-riches narrative which also includes the side effects of becoming greedy. Basically, it is a tale of greed and the retribution of a common man.
Lucky Baskhar takes time to establish the world the story is set in. It has two distinctive tracks within it, one is the family and the other is related to the banking sector. These two form the core plot elements the movie handles, they are family emotions and financial crimes.
The family emotions aspect of the movie is routine. We have seen it many times before. However, the good thing is the director swiftly moves through this predictability without too much lag. The birthday sequence where the wife gets hurt, the tearing up of the pocket, for example, conveys it clearly.
The criminal aspect offers freshness to the routine setup. The first half deals with smuggling via importing stuff. These parts offer newness as a background, but narrative speaking they happen very conveniently for the hero. He faces no challenge at all and is prepared well in advance.
What that does is, despite the fresh backdrop and something new on offer, the depth is missing and therefore the expected high is not reached. A flat sense prevails. Again, like the emotional track, there is hardly any lag. Things move swiftly with a smooth screenplay which keeps the curiosity alive. The pre-interval and interval segments help in maintaining the same.
Post-interval is where things get exciting as the stakes become higher. The financial crime aspect adds to the novelty. The business jargon is used just enough to make things look a little authentic and not overdone to make things confusing. A balance is achieved which helps navigate the proceedings without taxing the brain much.
Things go on a predictable path, but some of the payoff related to the ‘monetary’ aspect that’s established previously helps the flow. The spending of 69 lakhs in a single day is such a sequence.
The real deal with the movie arrives via the character arc of Baskhar during the second half. The change in personality due to greed, the realisation and the eventual transformation to normal are neatly done. The scene with the father during this portion is the clincher as far as Lucky Baskhar’s fate with the audience goes. What happens later is just icing on the cake tying all the threads. The stretch towards the climax is a little lengthy but satisfying.
Overall, Lucky Baskhar has a straightforward story that is easy to predict. There’s no real challenge for the hero, but the engaging screenplay and interesting narrative make up for it by keeping us involved in how the events unfold. Watch it if you like crime narratives with routine drama embedded in them.
Performances by Others Actors
Lucky Bashkar is filled with artists. You have many people filling up different worlds. But, none among them have well-defined parts. They are bits and pieces roles and chip in as per the requirement and then disappear, to then appear much later reminding us of their presence.
Among the many, Tinu Anand, Rajkumaar, AVPL Tatha etc manage to register. They all have minor parts but play a key role in taking things forward.
Music and Other Departments?
GV Prakash provides the music and background score for the movie. The musician doesn’t deliver on the songs front, but makes up for it a little bit via the BGM. It is loud and blaring, but serves the purpose.
Technically the movie is slick with neat cuts, frames and art work. The cinematography is consistently good and adds to the vintage feel. The editing is neat. The predictable moments, especially in drama, don’t overstay to cause irritation. The writing is adequate. Nothing stands out, but there isn’t much to complain about as well. The production values are good. The movie bears a visually striking look.
Highlights?
Dulquar Salman
Backdrop
Second Half
Pre Climax
Drawbacks?
Predictable Narrative
Parts Of First Half
No Real Threat For Hero
Did I Enjoy It?
Yes
Will You Recommend It?
Yes
Final Report:
Lucky Bhaskar is a decently engaging watch set against the backdrop of financial crimes. Dulquer, the performer makes a straightforward story interesting enough with his acting. The writing and presentation are decent but convenient for the most part. The film certainly makes for a one-time watch in theaters.
First Half Report:
Bhaskar’s hurdles may be complex, but the solutions seem very convenient. The good part is that the interest is alive and keeps the story moving forward. Dulquer is driving it single-handedly. The interval stop point is interesting. Overall, it’s a decent first half so far.
Lucky Baskhar opens with Bhaskar’s family facing financial difficulties. Stay tuned for the report.
Stay tuned for Lucky Baskhar Review, USA Premiere report.
Lucky Bhaskar, directed by Venky Atluri, caught attention with a good trailer, and Dulquer Salmaan, despite being a Malayalam hero, has strong acceptance in Telugu, which turned out to be a plus. Let’s find out if the movie lives up to the hype.
Cast: Dulquer Salmaan, Meenakshi Chaudhary
Writer & Director: Venky Atluri
Music: GV Prakash Kumar
Cinematography: Nimish Ravi
Editor: Navin Nooli
Art Director – Banglan
Producer: Naga Vamsi S – Sai Soujanya
Presenter – Srikara Studios
Banners – Sithara Entertainments & Fortune Four Cinemas
USA Distributor: Shloka Entertainments
Lucky Baskhar Movie Review by M9
Movie Reviews
Hollywood Pariah Kevin Spacey Opens in a Straight to Video Movie with 25 Producers, 1 Review, No Theaters, No Press – Showbiz411
As we know, Kevin Spacey is a pariah in Hollywood.
He’s in a rare club with Mel Gibson, Armie Hammer, Nate Parker, Jonathan Majors, and James Franco.
Spacey has managed to avoid jail time by reaching settlements with various accusers of sexual malfeasance, all men.
His film career — which included two Oscars and a Tony Award — has been destroyed.
Spacey has been reduced to appearing in straight to video films, made for whatever reason the various producers involved know only to themselves.
On Friday, a new Spacey movie surfaced against its will, but not in theaters. It also went straight to video. “1780” is a period piece set during the Revolutionary War. Spacey plays a toothless Pennsylvania country trapper.
There is no rating on Rotten Tomatoes, largely because there is only one review. The review by Alan Ng of Film Threat is positive. Ng recently reviewed “World War Bigfoot,” which he also liked. He seems to specialize in reviewing films no one has heard of.
“1780” does boast 25 producers who will probably not see a return on their investment. But they can say they made a movie with Kevin Spacey.
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Movie Reviews
‘House of Criticism’ Review: A Pensive and Touching Portrait of Married Art Critics Jerry Saltz and Roberta Smith (It Is Only, at Moments, a True-Life Christopher Guest Movie)
If you wanted to be funny about it, you could say that Jerry Saltz and Roberta Smith, who occupy the center of the documentary “House of Criticism,” are like characters out of a Christopher Guest movie. Both are venerable New York art critics — but the thing is, they’re married New York art critics, whose lives revolve entirely around art and art criticism and talking about art and art criticism. They eat, breathe, sleep and dream it. In the Guest mockumentary of my imagination, the two would be played by Bob Balaban and Parker Posey, and they would be blissfully cracked egghead eccentrics who think that art is the most important thing in the world because it’s the most important thing in the world to them.
At moments, “House of Criticism” does throw off unintentional comic sparks of art-world insularity. But I’m kidding, ultimately, since underneath that it’s a pensive and touching documentary, and it happens to be about two writers I greatly admire. Roberta Smith, the co-chief art critic of the New York Times, and Jerry Saltz, the art critic of New York magazine, are writers of sway, elegance, legend. They’re two of the last powerful legacy critics in America, and both are fantastic writers. For them, the love of art is a mission, at once sophisticated and childlike. Roberta calls art “the most advanced operating system that our species has devised to explore consciousness, the seen and the unseeable.” The way art connects (and saves) these two on a daily basis is its own rarefied story, and it speaks to a certain vanishing culture of passionate New York literary brainiacs that used to be thought of as almost the essence of the city.
Early on, Jerry stands before Picasso’s epochal Les Demoiselles d’Avignon at the Museum of Modern Art and does a head-spinning riff on it, describing how 500 years of art history collapsed in the late 19th century (through Manet, the Impressionists, Van Gogh, Cezanne), leaving the blank slate for Picasso to fill. He compares the way the painting remade the world to the cataclysm of 9/11 (“When we believed in one course of history, and obviously there was another course of history, and they shattered”). Now that’s criticism.
As “House of Criticism” shows us, Jerry Saltz and Roberta Smith are luminaries and survivors who enjoy an idealized life together. Roberta is something of a contradiction, both the haughtier and more vulnerable of the two. She can be imperious in that Timesian way, but there’s a tremulous insecurity about her. Beneath a certain Midwestern patrician rigor, she’s full of self-doubt about her writing and is in constant need of encouragement, which Jerry is more than happy to provide. He’s blustery and big picture-oriented, while her insights are more delicate and intimate, blooming out of her holy communion with the work.
Jerry is a contradiction as well, a man who writes like a demon and looks like a dentist. But don’t let his fubsy aura fool you — he’s the social butterfly and loose cannon, plugged into social media (which he plays like a violin), and the audacious thoughts pour out of him. The most telling aspect of their relationship is that as writers they should be competitors, but instead they’re spiritual collaborators; they turn what could be a competition into a romance. They help each other on word choices, and even when they’re reviewing the same show, they’re really competing with themselves, with their own cultivated and highly different ideas of perfectionism.
Their relationship is built, to a large degree, around Jerry’s belief that Roberta is the superior critic — but this, for Jerry, is a form of chivalry, the flower of their love story. “Your writing is so condensed, right on the object, focused,” he says. He’s intensely supportive, but Jerry, who won the Pulitzer Prize for criticism in 2018, is arguably the greater writer (his poetic showmanship flies higher), and it’s my reading that deep down he knows it. It’s his perpetual self-deprecation and devotion that keeps the marriage balanced.
The two have no children and no apparent hobbies outside of their unrelenting obsession with art. They slip in and out of gallery openings, where they’re treated like royalty, and they attend 20 to 30 shows a week. By all rights, they should have a social calendar that rivals Andy Warhol’s in the ’70s. But here’s the joke: They adore their life together but are so devoted to their work, so monastic about it, that they never go out. Jerry calls them “happy losers” and describes their spacious apartment off Fifth Avenue in Greenwich Village as “the house that criticism built.”
In the morning, he pours deli coffee over ice into a 7-11 Big Gulp cup, and he’ll consume three of those a day. It’s fuel, as is the food he eats. When his friend Adam Platt, the New York magazine restaurant critic, asks Jerry what his favorite food is, Jerry replies: the grilled chicken at Gristede’s (a slightly downscale New York supermarket). “That’s the life of the mind!” says Platt. “You’re as happy with prison food.” He’s not kidding. I live in the same neighborhood and use Gristede’s as a convenience store, and I would never consider buying the grilled chicken there. But as Jerry explains, popping a bag of spinach into the microwave, he and Roberta are so consumed with work that they subsist on this drone food. The two barely go to restaurants (though we see them having breakfast at their favorite diner). Do they drink? If I was them, I’d need a cocktail by the end of the day, but the movie never says.
“House of Criticism,” directed by Alison Chernick, has a sketchy but rather controlled vantage. There’s a lot you don’t learn (I would have liked to see more about the politics of the New York art world), and plenty you do — like the fact that Lena Dunham is their goddaughter. Late in the movie, she comes over to visit them and provokes a penetrating exchange on the subject of why they never had kids.
People don’t often think of critics in humanistic terms, but these two invest criticism with soul, and there’s something disarming about how they were both damaged people who came together by seeing, in each other, a mirror image. She was born in New York and raised in Kansas, moving back to Manhattan in her early twenties to be part of the art scene (her mentor was the artist and critic Donald Judd). She found her way to criticism as a role in life, yet there was something metaphysically lonely about her.
It’s Jerry who comes from trauma. His mother, who committed suicide when he was 10, was erased out of his life (she was never spoken of again). He tells a haunting story about how she dropped him off for a solo visit to the Art Institute of Chicago just two weeks before her death, and it was there, on that visit, that the art lightbulb went off: He realized that every painting is a story. He wanted to be a painter, and tried (he had some talent), but thought that he lacked the proper schooling. What he really lacked was confidence. In photographs from the time, Jerry looks like he could be Richard Dreyfuss’s sad-sack brother. He wound up becoming a long-distance trucker, driving 10-wheelers full of paintings (he did this for 10 years), and he confesses that at moments he would go back into the truck and stomp on paintings and damage them. That is seriously sick behavior (his self-hatred was off the charts), and it’s amazing that he became the menschy person he did.
These two have thrived as critics by evolving. Jerry says of critics, “We have to adapt to the times, or we’re bullies and geezers.” He’s right. The film culminates in Roberta’s ultimate evolution — her decision to retire from the New York Times. The time feels right, but the question hovers: Without that job, what will her identity be? In a moving moment, she tells Jerry, “You’re my infrastructure.” “You’re mine,” he says. (That’s the critic version of “You complete me.”) And seeing each other through the prism of art is both of their infrastructure. These two are standard-bearers for the glory of a culture that once was. It’s a culture where criticism is about judging things, but more than that it’s about exploring things — experiencing things, bringing you closer to life.
By ABBIE BERNSTEIN / Staff Writer
Posted: June 26th, 2026 / 08:03 PM
SUPERGIRL movie poster | ©2026 Warner Bros./DC Studios
Rating: PG-13
Stars: Milly Adcock, David Corenswet, Eve Ridley, Matthias Schoenaerts, Diarmaid Murtagh, Jason Momoa, David Krumholtz, Emily Beecham
Writer: Ana Nogueira, based on characters created by Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster
Director: Craig Gillespie
Distributor: Warner Bros./DC Studios
Release Date: June 26, 2026
The new SUPERGIRL doesn’t have that “Eureka! This is how you do this now” spark that galvanized its immediate franchise predecessor, last year’s SUPERMAN. Director Craig Gillespie and screenwriter Ana Nogueira, basing the film on characters created by DC Comics’ Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster, probably wisely, aren’t going for that.
Instead, the SUPERGIRL makers are intent on providing a lively adventure, getting to the point quickly and letting the action unspool with unquestionably strong motivation, abetted by plenty of punch-ups, kicking and frequent explosions.
Supergirl, aka Kara Zor-El (Milly Adcock), is from the now-dead planet Krypton, just like her cousin Clark/Kal-El/Superman (David Corenswet). However, where Clark has chosen to remain on Earth, where the yellow sun gives him superpowers that allow to help Earth’s residents, Kara likes to party on planets that have a red sun, where she has no unusual abilities.
This is because Kara seems to have taken to heart a dictum from a different comic book universe – with great power comes great responsibility – and decided the inverse is true: with no power comes no responsibility.
We get insight into exactly why Kara is so duty-averse over the course of SUPERGIRL, and it’s probably not a spoiler to say that she re-examines some attitudes as events unfold.
Kara plans to celebrate her twenty-third birthday on a backwater red sun planet. The bar where Kara chooses to drink is entered by preteen Ruthye Knoll (Eve Ridley), whose family has been murdered by brigands, led by the horrendous Krem (Matthias Schoenaerts). Ruthye is out for revenge. Kara thinks Ruthye is a bit young and pure-hearted to be on a murderous quest.
Even on a planet with a red sun, though, Kara is still handy with fists and feet. Ruthye sees what Kara can do and concludes she is the ideal ally. Kara absolutely refuses to help. Then something occurs that credibly rouses Kara to do whatever it takes to achieve her aims, which sort of line up with Ruthye’s.
No explanation is needed for why Kara feels such urgency, which we easily share. Her concern for Ruthye is understandable and her connecting to larger purpose is shown rather than spoken.
Intriguingly, the aesthetics of SUPERGIRL are largely those of STAR WARS, with some MAD MAX and BLADE RUNNER thrown in. The filmmakers have a good time with all sorts of utterly nonhuman alien people and figuring out how to make interplanetary versions of familiar items like vending machines.
The pace is pleasingly brisk and the structure doesn’t require much exposition. When they hit a hard-to-answer question like why Kara is Supergirl while Clark is Superman, they acknowledge it and then get out from under without irritating anybody.
For anyone wondering about the veracity of the recording from Superman’s parents that appeared in SUPERMAN, a quick line of dialogue here confirms it (sorry, Jor-El supporters).
There is the expected amount of CGI involved, including a great motion-capture performance by Kara’s dog Krypto (modeled upon executive producer/SUPERMAN director James Gunn’s dog), but a lot of the stunts and makeup appear gratifyingly practical.
Adcock is fine in all of Kara’s moods, from wasted to resistant to determined, with a delightful reaction to feeling her body’s response to the yellow sun. Ridley is an appealing young hero, and Corenswet offers wholesome support. Schoenaerts lets Krem revel in his own soft-spoken vileness, and Jason Momoa enthusiastically portrays an intergalactic bounty hunter. David Krumholtz is affecting as Kara’s scientist father.
SUPERGIRL isn’t going to redefine superhero movies, but it’s a perfectly enjoyable example of the form.
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