“Secret Mall Apartment” is a Search Engine Optimization-friendly title for a documentary that’s about a lot of things that cannot be captured in three words. Directed by Jeremy Workman, it tells the story of a group of friends from a rundown, artist-friendly neighborhood who got pushed out of their homes by gentrification and somehow ended up discovering an unoccupied, seemingly unmapped spot inside of the mall that pushed them out, then began furnishing it as a living space. The process took three years, all told, and during that entire time, they managed to avoid detection by mall security or even other patrons.

Workman has said that as he worked on this film, he “quickly learned that they created the secret apartment to make a statement against gentrification. They had lost their homes as a result of development, and this was their unique personal way to show developers that they weren’t going anywhere.”

However, as the film demonstrates, there were other elements in the mix. One was the thrill of doing a victimless, playful protest crime in plain sight of mall staff and customers who never noticed that the same eight people were hanging out in the mall constantly, rarely buying anything but food court items, and disappearing and reappearing for hours at a time without leaving the complex. The group slowly created a “normal” apartment in a concrete-walled, high-ceilinged, 750-square-foot room accessible only through crawl spaces and a tall set of metal stairs (which must’ve been hell to navigate with the dish cabinet and multiple couches that ended up in the space).

What’s most fascinating of all is that, in a roundabout way, “Secret Mall Apartment” is about artistic expression—and how artists can talk and talk and talk about why they did things, but might never really know the full story because the impulse to create comes from such deep places.

The eight artists were Michael Townsend, the ringleader; his then-girlfriend Adriana Valdez Young, Colin Bliss, James J.A. Mercer, Andrew Oesch, Greta Scheing, Jay Zhengebot, and Emily Ustach. The mall apartment wasn’t just a lark or an invasion by “squatters” (as the local newspaper called them) but an extension of what the eight were already doing in their public-facing careers.

Townsend is mainly a “tape artist” who makes art with easily removable tape meant to be observed and considered and then disappear. He is also a teacher who specializes in instructing people who don’t think of themselves as artists to do art in groups and to encourage people to feel confident in their artistic impulse even if they haven’t had formal training. Under his leadership, the group of eight traveled all over the United States and did what you might call temporary or ephemeral art, often comprised of silhouettes of people, animals, and objects made of paper tape. (You might have heard about the taped silhouettes they did on the sides of New York buildings commemorating the lives of people who died in the 9/11 attacks.)

The various works were playful, clever, gently mysterious exercises. They were meant to remind people of the interconnectedness of human experience and fleeting nature of existence; bring beauty to places that otherwise lacked beauty; stop people in their tracks and make them think about why it’s so revelatory to see art in a place where you wouldn’t normally expect to see art.

Although there are a few re-creations that are clearly identified as such (the filmmakers constructed a replica of the mall apartment and show how it was designed and built in a studio), the movie relies mostly on the incredible amount of low-resolution, early aughts video footage captured by the group. A lot of the footage is process documentation, just showing what was done and how.

But some of it captures tense or raw moments, including arguments about the long-term usefulness of continuing the project and the gap between Michael’s enthusiasm and everyone else’s, and the group’s encounter will mall security while they were truing to smuggle concrete cinder blocks in via the parking garage. (Michael has always had a talent for talking his way out of these kinds of situations, but the movie is wise to admit that this project wouldn’t lasted more than a day if the participants were Black.)

Workman and his co-editor Paul Murphy have an intuitive and very pleasing sense of structure, giving you the information you need at the point in the story where you think, “I wish they’d tell me more about that.” The sense of how to time the appearance of context and explanation in a movie a gift that can’t be taught in schools; you either have it or you don’t. There are times when one might wish they’d dug a little deeper into the personalities and relationships (seven of the eight were publicly unidentified until now). And as complexly as Michael is portrayed, there are connections between his biography and this project that you keep expecting the movie to highlight, yet it never does. (As a child, he moved eight times in his first year of life, which all by itself suggests why a man would build an entire artistic career around things that aren’t permanent.)

But these are nitpicks. This is a delightful, thought-provoking movie that’s about a lot of things at the same time. It’ll make you see the world with fresh eyes, and probably wonder why there isn’t more art in it.

One winter’s night, at a charity gala in a Chicago gallery, a con is on. Liz Dawson, masquerading as art consultant Elizabeth Hastings, finds the mark she has set her sights on, Mrs. Reed. After her bogus sob story elicits the sympathy of the wealthy collector and philanthropist, Liz then piques her interest with the offer of a Keith Haring painting that doesn’t exist. Eventually they part, Mrs. Reed walking away with one of Liz’s business cards, Liz making off with Mrs. Reed’s ruby ring.

Krysten Ritter hooks us with this deft opener to her new novel and reels us in. The Los Angeles-based actor (star of the Marvel series “Jessica Jones”) and author follows her 2017 debut, “Bonfire,” by delivering another thriller fronted by a gutsy, feisty female protagonist. “Retreat” begins by showing what smooth-operating scammer Liz is capable of. But as Ritter thickens her plot and ups the stakes, swapping con tricks for corpses, the book turns into a mystery, one that its antiheroine tries frantically to unravel.

Liz’s problems start small but come in threes. Mrs. Reed’s son plagues her with concerns, and then threats, about the $50,000 investment she persuaded his mother to make for a painting she will never see. A hotel hounds her for unpaid bills. Surely it won’t be long before the police are questioning her about the scarf she left behind at the scene of a recent crime.

Fortunately, Liz is able to leave these cares far behind. When a golden opportunity comes her way to manage an art installation in Casa Esmerelda, an oceanfront villa in a luxury Mexican resort, she enthusiastically seizes it. The property’s owners, venture capitalist Oliver Beresford and his wife, Isabelle, will be in Bali, giving Liz a week to relax and recharge in their gated private enclave. Soon she is sampling the delights of Punta Mita and mingling with the community’s super-rich residents. Some of them mistake her for Isabelle Beresford. Rather than correct them, Liz decides to keep up the pretense — no great stretch for someone so used to sloughing off and trying on one alias after another.

But while hiking with her new friend Tilly, Liz is horrified at coming across two dead bodies. “This is not what I signed up for,” she tells herself. “I don’t do death and danger — not real, life-threatening danger.” To reveal more here would be to spoil all. Suffice it to say, Liz’s grisly discovery heralds a change in her fortunes. Instead of having fun in the sun, she finds herself moving around in the shadows in search of answers. Her sleuthing entails hunting out a secret subterranean office, hacking into emails, sifting layers of deceit, creating “digital deflections” to cover the tracks of a missing person and evaluating whether one character’s dirty deeds could extend to murder. She looks for the truth while hiding behind a false front. But are those around her who they claim they are?

Ritter’s second novel is a fiendish tale of trouble in paradise. Co-written by Lindsay Jamieson, it boasts several strengths: It is expertly paced, tightly plotted and, in places, genuinely gripping. However, “Retreat” has its flaws. It is laced with the requisite twists and turns we expect from this genre, but one big reveal is so big that we see it coming. On occasion the prose is marred by groan-inducing clichés, particularly when it attempts to stoke tension (“My heart pounds; my breath races”) or convey romance (“I let myself get lost in Jay’s dark eyes for a moment”).

However, we forget about faults during the book’s many absorbing episodes. Ritter routinely ramps up the intrigue and drama, such as in one taut scene where Liz scrolls through someone’s phone for clues — and is forced to think on the spot when caught in the act. Ritter also excels with sharp lines about, and acute observations of, the gilded worlds and charmed existences of the privileged elite (a Yale graduate showcases “the naive pride of someone winning at life when they started at the finish line”).

Best of all is the novel’s main character. Liz is a compelling creation, at once smart, sassy and wily, and there is fun to be had watching her slickly outwit credulous individuals. “You’re different from all the other women here. You’re real,” one unsuspecting lady of leisure tells her. It is equally rewarding seeing Liz flounder as she gets more and more out of her depth. “I’m Cinderella after the ball,” she says at one point, “and the spell is wearing off.” Ritter fleshes out Liz and shows more of her vulnerable side through flashbacks to the hard knocks she experienced in her emotionally turbulent past. We come to champion her as the streamlined narrative hurtles toward its shock finale.

Readers who don’t make it that far will no doubt bewail the novel’s unlikely premise and other stumbling-block implausibilities. But it pays just to sit back, suspend disbelief and enjoy the ride.

Story: A fertility specialist’s life is upended when he is accused of attempted murder. The courtroom drama chronicles his journey as a pioneer in IVF treatment while simultaneously questioning whether he will emerge unscathed from the legal battle that threatens to destroy his legacy.

Review: What happens when someone revered for bringing hope to countless childless couples finds himself at the centre of a scandal? Director Vikram Bhatt’s Tumko Meri Kasam tells one such tale—of visionary IVF specialist Dr. Ajay Murdia (Anupam Kher), who faces allegations of attempted murder. The film navigates dual narratives—his groundbreaking contributions to fertility treatment and the intense courtroom battle that could unravel his life’s work.
Based on a true story, the film sets the stage for a gripping legal drama intertwined with a heartfelt love story from the outset. Rajeev Khosla (Meherrzan Mazda) accuses Dr Murdia of attempted murder, aiming to usurp his position as chairman of Indira IVF, a vast chain of fertility clinics. Running parallel to this conflict is the doctor’s early journey, where a younger Ajay (Ishwak Singh) battles scepticism and social stigma in the 1980s, a time when fertility clinics were often dismissed as ‘sex clinics.’ Facing opposition from peers and family, Ajay finds unwavering support in his wife, Indira (Adah Sharma). Together, they risk everything to revolutionise fertility treatment and bring hope to struggling couples.

While emotionally engaging, writer-director Bhatt’s storytelling wavers between poignant and dramatic. As the story shifts between romance, tragedy, and the legal battle, the ride doesn’t always feel seamless. At two hours and forty-six minutes, the narrative feels long-drawn and follows a formulaic path with songs. The courtroom sequences oscillate between sharply executed and contrived. However, the film’s emotional core remains intact, especially in moments of personal loss, where the younger Ajay and Indira’s bond is portrayed with tenderness, leaving you teary-eyed.

Anupam Kher delivers a solid performance as the steadfast and betrayed Dr Murdia, fiercely fighting for his clinic and reputation. Esha Deol brings finesse as his defence attorney, Meenakshi, though her role lacks depth beyond the courtroom exchanges. Ishwak Singh as the younger Ajay is a standout—his portrayal captures both the empathy and determination of a doctor ahead of his time. His chemistry with Adah Sharma is natural and compelling, making their love story one of the film’s strongest elements. The duo shines in both romantic and emotionally charged scenes, embodying resilience and unwavering faith in each other.

Durgesh Kumar (Bhushan from Panchayat) makes a brief yet powerful impact in a pivotal courtroom scene. Meherrzan Mazda, playing the antagonist, has a substantial role, yet his motivations feel underexplored. His resentment toward Ajay lacks the complexity needed to make him a formidable adversary.

Tumko Meri Kasam has a strong premise but uneven pacing and a lengthy runtime make it less immersive than it could have been. Still, the film is backed by emotional depth and strong performances.