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A band has to only start its set in a random bar or pub in Thamel and within minutes into their performance, someone from the audience has had requested a song already. And as the night continues with a bit of drunkenness in the air, the ‘requests’ start getting harassingly loud and the poor band on stage is clearly confused and embarrassed; it is impossible for a group of musicians to cover almost everything under the sun.

And the problem is not limited to Thamel or Kathmandu. Musicians playing live at venues all over the country complain about the same thing: a nightmare when a group of drunkards disrupt their performance, dismiss their music, and disrespect their job. All because they think they own the artists and their art when they’re paying for the cover charge at the venue or their restaurant bill.

For a musician, or any other artist who’s up on stage, it is most disrespectful to be interrupted by the audience for no apparent reason. For Nepali musicians playing live in all kinds of venues, interruption has been so normalized that sometimes it’s a surprise when they get to complete a set without hassles. But most of them are not so fortunate most of the times.

Ask any musician for a story on a bar fight that disrupted the show; a police raid which ended in calling the night too early; a group of drunks who harassed the musicians with requests to the level they couldn’t play on stage—you’ll hear many different versions of their experiences and the details could be both shocking and surprising.

As the audience is paying at the bar, one may argue, they have the right to order performing artists to play music of their choice, but is that how it really works for all professions? No matter how much you pay, you won’t ask a urologist to check your eyes, would you? And ask a pilot on a Kathmandu-Pokhara flight to take a detour to Chitwan in between because your friends want to see elephants?

So, similarly, you’re agreeing to pay for a service when you enter a bar and seat yourselves down. Now it’d be really considerate of you to let the professionals do their work without interfering with them time and again. Instead of showboating money and clout at the venues, you could showboat chivalry, empathy, and good taste. 

Having said that, some bands and venues do accept requests, but there are limits to what a band can perform. If you see a jazz band performing at a bar, you DON’T pester them to play Narayan Gopal just because ‘the band members are Nepalis, and every Nepali musician should know how to play Narayan Gopal.’ When you see a rock band on stage, you DON’T shout to them to play Nepali film songs, because that’s most probably not in their repertoire. To make things clearer, if you have no idea of the genre that a band is performing, you either listen to them if you enjoy their music or go to a different venue. Plenty of options out there.

The biggest NO for requests though is when artists with original music are performing on stage. Requesting a musician playing their own music at their concert to cover another musician’s songs is the biggest disrespect there is, not only of the artists, but of music as an art too.

There have been plenty of incidents when a bunch of unthinking audiences have spoilt the mood of a performer by requesting them to play someone else’s song. It’s like going to a Metallica show and asking them to perform Eminem, just because you’re paying for the tickets. See the problem here? If you wouldn’t do that to international artists, why would you even think of doing that to the Nepali artists?

Don’t ask Albatross to play Bipul Chhetri or vice versa. But no, seems like our audience will never learn. Because on a recent Facebook live by Albatross singer Sirish Dali, there were requests for him to perform covers of other Nepali artists. The audience here had the option to shut down the page and move to other things on the internet if they didn’t like his music. But they chose to be arrogant, or ignorant maybe.

This write-up might sound a bit harsh, but this comes out of genuine frustration of being undervalued by our own audience—many of whose members do not know the basic etiquettes of attending a concert. So when the Covid-19 pandemic is over and live music starts making it back to our favorite venues, we request you audience, be more thoughtful and let the artists—who have worked hard on creating a playlist for you—perform in peace.

The author is one of the suffering musicians

Charlize Theron starrer “The Old Guard” that released on July 10 is right now the most watched movie on Netflix. Reading the description, it felt like the film was going to be along the lines of the Milla Jovovich-starrer “Resident Evil” film series (2002-2017). But would it be in the same league? The Old Guard definitely gets close to the iconic Resident Evil series but we fear it might not create enough momentum to be made into a long-running franchise. The movie does hint at a sequel though, and we think a sequel is in order to right the little wrongs in the first edition.

To save the world from disasters, Andromache/“Andy” (Theron) leads a covert group of mercenaries to fight wars. They have been doing so for centuries, because of their inability to die. They get cut, they bleed, they break bones, but they do not die because of their regenerative healing capacities. With centuries of fighting experience all over the world, the team of four immortals has become expert in gunfight and hand-to-hand combat.

They are hidden from the world until James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a former CIA operative, hires them to rescue a group of children in South Sudan. But what starts as a rescue mission ends in the team realizing that it has been ambushed and its cover blown by Copley.

Copley in turn is working for Steven Merrick (Harry Melling) who wants to capture them and research them to discover the secret to their immortality and then monetize it. The Old Guard team also finds a Nile (Kiki Layne), an American marine who has just discovered she’s an immortal and has had a hard time accepting the truth and letting go of her past.

The fight for survival between the team and Merrick makes for the rest of The Old Guard story. With the team’s experience and abilities against Merrick’s money and cunningness, the battle is an interesting one for the audience to follow. Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood, the action fantasy film is a package of drama, adventure, suspense, and adrenaline rush.

The lead actors have definitely worked hard on the stunts and fights, and the effect shows. These fights are a mix of various forms of martial including a close-range gun shooting style seen in the “John Wick” (2014) film series. But despite earnest effort of the actors and the stunt team, the camerawork feels lazy, out-of-date, and uncreative. Too many shaky handheld shots and wide long shots in action sequences somewhat takes the life out of an intense hand-to-hand combat.

Wielding a Medieval-axe in combat situations, Theron—who was nothing short of exceptional in the action thrillers “Mad Max: Fury Road” (2015) and “Atomic Blonde” (2017)—continues her action-star legacy in The Old Guard. As the leader of a pack of immortal warriors, Theron’s Milla is commanding, resolute, and mystical.

Besides Milla, who’s the ‘boss’ of the Guard team and also the oldest immortal alive, the film also tries to give backstories of her gang of immortals. The multiple backstories result in the film crossing two hours in length, without contributing much to the storyline. Some backstories seem incomplete, badly written, and redundant.

If the movie had been written into a full series, the backstories would perhaps have been justified. Justice would have been served even if the screenplay was crisp and to-the-point.

Who should watch it?

Despite a few shortcomings that prevent The Old Guard from being another most-watched franchise, it is thoroughly enjoyable. The stretched screenplay does not get boring because of brilliant acting and background score that keeps up the momentum. For an action movie fan, The Old Guard is still a must-watch. Even those with a weak stomach for action movies can definitely squirm through this one, which is not as gory as most other movies with similar storylines.

Rating: 3.4 stars

Genre: Action/fantasy

Director: Gina Prince-Bythewood

Actors: Charlize Theron, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Kiki Layne

Run time: 2hrs 5mins

It’s 5 pm on a Friday and Thamel is deserted—a shock to someone who has been frequenting the ‘entertainment district’ of Kathmandu for a little shy of two decades and has never seen a dull evening, weekend or weekday there. But given what we are all grappling with right now, it shouldn’t have surprised him as well.

A walk towards the iconic Narsingh Chowk reveals further desolation. A few tourist-focused stores were open but without a single customer in sight. And the restaurants, bars and cafes that at other normal times would be pulsating with early birds on the weekends enjoying happy hour menus now have their shutters closed—some forever.

A familiar face stands at the small channel gate of the famous Buddha Bar. The guard gives a hint of familiarity, yet is not fully inviting. The person behind it points a radar gun on the forehead and then takes out a large bottle from which he squeezes a few drops of sanitizer into the hands of those wanting to enter.

Upstairs, it’s dark, the traditional vibrancy of Buddha Bar’s Friday night over the past 20 years completely missing. Bhupal Magar, the manager, who has been employed there for 13 years, informs they only opened that same day for takeaway and deliveries only. But since it was impossible to drive away regular patrons who showed up, they were allowed in for an hour.

“We have completely sanitized the place and are taking all possible precautionary measures,” Magar says, pointing to his staff in facemasks and face-shields. So how much business did the restaurant do on that day? “Zero,” Magar says. “We are yet to make our first sale.”

Buddha Bar’s is a representational tale of the many establishments in Kathmandu, which had mushroomed in the past few years as the capital adopted an eating-out culture. But with the lockdown, which has lasted well over three months now, they are struggling just to survive. Many of them, we fear, may never open again. Even Buddha Bar, with its two-decade legacy, is operating with less than half of its 18-staff team.

The owners of the Buddha Bar might have backup finance and an understanding landlord to get through these hard times and at least retain a part of their long-serving staff. But the same is not the case for other establishments in the neighborhood.

Kailash Shrestha, co-owner of the Grasshopper Cafe and Bar, another name that dates back over 20 years, is skeptical about his business. The iconic Grasshopper, which had just shifted to Thamel from Basantapur in December 2019, was only just picking up business at the new location when the Covid-19 outbreak hit. Now, with a six-figure rent and many expenses to bear, the future for Grasshopper—which survived the political revolution of 2000s, the great earthquake of 2015, and the Indian embargo—appears distinctly dark.

“We know a few places around Thamel are reopening—at least for delivery and takeaways—but it is not feasible for us,” Shrestha says. “Our business runs on live music and till we can do that, there is no point in opening.” Shrestha adds that Thamel without tourists is as good as dead and the management of Grasshopper is on a wait-and-watch policy for the next 2-4 months. “If the situation does not improve till then, we might have to close the business for good,” he says.

While a few establishments around Thamel—mostly small fast-food joints, takeaways, and coffee shops—have opened, most other places have completely shut down. A drive through Jhamsikhel, Durbarmarg and Lazimpat, other popular areas for eating out, shows closed shutters, and empty dining areas in the few that were open. Facebook and Instagram ads show more and more restaurants opening for takeaways, but amid an economic crisis, taking enough orders to sustain might be difficult for most of them.

At the Attic Bar, which recently shifted to Gyaneshwor, things look slightly better. As the property is spacious, Attic does let the customers dine in, with due precautions. “We had only opened for the takeaways and deliveries, but we could not turn away regular customers,” the management says. “We have also started getting requests for small gatherings of 40-50 people, but we are not taking them at the moment.” But there are venues that are already hosting small parties of 50-100 people despite the government order, the management informs.

Epidemiologist Lhamo Y. Sherpa is at first shocked that many restaurants have started allowing dine-ins. She thought it was only takeaways and deliveries. “If the restaurants serve inside, it is risky business,” Sherpa says. “Since you don’t put on masks to eat, and as these are closed spaces, people are at risk.” Sherpa acknowledges the struggle of the restaurants but suggests only the establishments with outdoor dining spaces serve customers for now.

The battle for survival is intense among thousands of businesses in Kathmandu, and for hundreds of them, the battle is already lost. With Nepal still not reaching the peak of the infection yet, by the time all this ends, many familiar names in the hospitality industry could forever vanish.

Right at the start of the movie “Chaman Bahar”, when our protagonist Billu aka Prem Kumar Yadav (Jitendra Kumar) is introduced to the audience, the radio plays a classic Bollywood song from the 90s. That’s exactly when the audience are subtly told that the film will take them back to the ‘90s situation’ where boys stalked girls out of sheer wantonness, with most of them not even letting the girls know of their intent. Might sound offensive to the current generation, but in those days, when sources of entertainment and communication were limited, the typical Indian concept of eve teasing was a popular ‘time pass’ for many youths. 

The story of Chaman Bahar—in a nutshell—is about a Billu who opens a paan (betel leaves) shack in a small town in Chhattisgarh, India. In doing so he goes against his father who wants him to be a security guard at the local District Forester’s Office, a duty the men in the family have been doing for generations.

An adamant Billu buys a small paan shop on a ‘busy’ roadside. But he immediately finds out that he has been tricked. The shop is actually on a deserted section of the town with no traffic. A pair of local unemployed youth—Somu (Bhuvan Arora) and Chotu (Dhirendra Tiwari)—enter the scene, giving him the bad news and also promising help.

All is not well for Billu until the vacant house across the road sees new tenants. The family has a teenage daughter Rinku (Ritika Badiani) whose entry in the town creates a sensation among the local boys. Her teenage schoolmates and even older men in their 20s start stalking her and wait outside her house just to get a glimpse of her. They make Billu’s little store their junction and in no time, business is booming for him.

The presence of the ‘fair maiden who wears shorts’ also attracts the attention of a local political aspirant Shila (Alam Khan) and business heir Ashu (Ashwani Kumar) who are constantly at odds with each other. Billu profits from the group of boys hanging out at his store. They buy cigarettes and tobacco from him all day. But only until he too is bitten by the love bug for Rinku—and hence the complications in his life start.

The simple, rooted story of Chaman Bahar is also packaged into a grounded movie that despite being produced under the banner of the multi-million dollar Saregama India emulates the stylistic simplicity of a low budget, independent film. The cast, the location, set design, the overall presentation, nothing is overboard.

Actor Jitendra Kumar, whose crossover from web series to Bollywood has earned him praises from critics and audiences alike, justifies the hype he has been getting. Jitendra is real, believable, lovable, and easily gains the audience empathy as he gets into one mess after another in his pursuit of Rinku’s love.

Writer-Director Apurva Dhar Badgaiyannhave also creates his own version of the ‘Shakespearean fool’ in the form of Somu and Chotu. The duo constantly outwits the powerful, and manipulates the situation to their advantage, while also keeping the humor quotient up.

While the movie has a lot going for it, the 1hr 51mins length is perhaps overkill for this plot that could otherwise have been turned into an excellent short movie, or an episode in a series. Although conflicts and resolutions are aplenty, the film somehow feels stretched.

Also, with the 18-year-old actress Ritika Badiani looking way below her age, grown men stalking her seems problematic. But again, this is reflective of those times and in a way shows the ugly side of eve teasing.

Who should watch it?

Despite the length, Chaman Bahar is mostly an entertaining movie. Without evident malice, violence and explicit scenes, it is a movie to be enjoyed by audiences of all ages.

Chaman Bahar

Rating: 3.5 stars

Genre: Drama

Length: 1hr 51mins

Director: Apurva Dhar Badgaiyannhave

Actors: Jitendra Kumar, Ritika Badiani, Bhuvan Arora, Dhirendra Tiwari

As the lockdown eases and people get back to work, transport has been a major problem for workers in Kathmandu who don’t have private vehicles. At this time, the services of a few ride-sharing apps which had made commute easy in Kathmandu are being missed.

Sunny Mahat of APEX talked to Asheem Man Singh Basnyat, Regional Director of Pathao, on the plans and possibilities of ride-sharing apps during and after the Covid-19 crisis.

How was Pathao doing before the lockdown?

We had 50,000 riders before the lockdown, and one million service users. We were doing around 30,000 rides a day at an average of Rs 105 a ride.

Do you think the government will use this pandemic as an excuse to ban ride-sharing companies once and for all?

The government, the public sector, and the private sector are three pillars for national development. In times like these, cooperation between these sectors is important. As most policy issues have been addressed, we don’t think this pandemic will be an excuse to ban ride-sharing.

How safe would ride-sharing bikes be compared to other means of public transport when we need to maintain social distancing?

We have equipped our riders with protective gears, masks, sanitizers, and we are also disinfecting our vehicles. There are many contact points in public vehicles, which make it difficult to stop the spread of the virus, unlike the bikes that do not have many contact points. So everyone can be certain of the safety level of ride-sharing vehicles, which are more reliable than other means. Further, contact tracing is much easier with ride-sharing platforms. So infected cases, if any, can be tracked early.

What will be the ‘new normal’ for ride-sharing services after the pandemic?

Safety is definitely the new buzzword and it is indeed essential for us as a responsible company. Thus ride-sharing services will be more cautious and serious about safety. Measures like mandatory wearing of masks, equipping riders with sanitizers, and disinfecting our vehicles are likely to stay here for long. Further, as we step out of this pandemic, there is likely to be more demand considering that ride-sharing platforms are a lot safer than other platforms. We are even thinking of sealed cabins to minimize contact between the passenger and riders in cabs.

Do you believe ride-sharing services can find the same or similar level of business when things get back to normal? 

On one side, people might purchase more private vehicles, reducing demand. However, while the economy is sliding and people are losing jobs, they might find ride-sharing a better option to buying vehicles. On this note, we believe ride-sharing will be even more popular once things get back to normal. There is a speculation that public vehicles will not be able to operate the way they had been before the pandemic. If so, the price of public transport will be almost equal to ride-sharing. And given that ride-sharing is much safer with precautions, we expect an increase in business. 

Don’t let the trailers misguide you. “Bulbbul” is not a horror film that will scare you with ghosts in makeup and demons in CGI. Instead, it a hard-hitting film based on supernatural elements, which will scare your reality. Only a couple of weeks into its release, Bulbbul has been widely hailed as a powerful feminist film. With all its tactfulness, storytelling and factual representation, it deserves every bit of applause it’s getting.

The film is placed in Bengal Presidency in 1881 and starts with the wedding ceremony of five-year-old Bulbbul (Ruchi Mahajan/Tripti Dimri) who is getting married to Indranil (Rahul Bose), a rich landlord, who is also a few decades older than her. A mere child who is distracted by the proceedings around her, Bulbbul is actually being tricked into the marriage, and is shocked to find that Satya, closer to her age and who she thinks is her husband, is her brother-in-law, youngest in the family after Mahendra (Bose), Indranil’s twin. The child-bride Bulbbul forms a very natural bond of friendship with Satya (Varun Buddhadev/Avinash Tiwary) but is also burdened by the responsibility of being the ‘thakurain’ of the ancestral mansion under the scrutiny of her sister-in-law Binodini (Paoli Dam).

The narrative then jumps to 20 years later when everything in the village has changed. The once booming mansion is now somewhat desolate and the village is shrouded by what the locals believe to be an evil woman’s spirit. Satya, who returns home after five years abroad, finds that his eldest brother has left home while the younger twin has been murdered under mysterious contexts. His childhood playmate and sister-in-law Bulbbul has, also to his surprise, changed her personality, which confuses him. At the same time, reports of unsolved murder cases in the village start mounting.

Told after that in flashbacks and present narratives, the story of Bulbbul then unmasks the dirty faces within the family and its periphery. Written and directed by Anvita Dutt, and produced by Indian actress Anushka Sharma, Bulbbul takes on traditions, patriarchal customs, and everything that suppresses women. Starting with the now criminalized tradition of taking child brides, to the reference of women’s toenails as an accessory to control their spirit, to women who have been tamed by patriarchy trying to lasso other women into it—Bulbbul questions the root of these customs. Also, the film targets pedophiles, sexual abusers and violent perpetrators as the scum of the society who need to be dealt with the harshest punishments.

The screenplay of Bulbbul, however strong the theme, does seem to lag at times but there are plenty of good elements in the film to mask this weakness. The storyline itself, spun out of folklores, is somewhat predictable but the subject it deals with makes it very relevant as well.

As for the acting in Bulbbul, the actors create a world of their own. With most actors coming from outside commercial cinemas, their presence gives newness to the setting, and they are convincing enough to transport us way back in time.

Tripti Dimri as the adult Bulbbul is what her character needs to be—bonded yet liberated, innocent yet beguiling, simple yet mystifying. Tripti’s expressions don’t give away the storm she has built inside and that could be the most important requirement for her role.

Similarly, Avinash Tiwary as adult Satya offers strong shoulders for the story to rest upon. His re-entry into the scene as an adult starts a chain of events resolving towards the climax. Avinash takes on the burden of being a pivot to the plot and guides us through the story without appearing overzealous. Paoli Dam as the luxuriously living Binodini turned widow in penance also makes her presence felt.

Another remarkable part of the film is its camerawork and lighting. Siddharth Diwan’s cinematography maintains the etiquettes of a horror film through PoVs, handheld shots, and long-medium-short frame combinations to never let the audience’s view settle. Infused with the eccentric red lighting, the screen appears magical.

Who should watch it?

Again, Bulbbul is not your usual, scary horror film. It as an important tale nonetheless, told from a feminist perspective, and recommended for everyone, regardless of their age and gender.

Rating: 3.5 stars

Genre: Horror

Director: Anvita Dutt

Actors: Avinash Tiwary, Tripti Dimri, Paoli Dam

Runtime: 1h 34min |

In the wake of repeated incidents of caste-based violence around the country, APEX asks 12 Nepali musicians if (and how) music can be an effective tool to fight racism/casteism. 

Adrian Pradhan, 1974 AD

I think music is far more heavenly, spiritual, and universal compared to racism. Music unites people globally while racism divides. Music evolved from infinite powers while racism came from the minds of people. With this in mind, I’m sure music can really heal the corrupt hearts of this world. Being a responsible artist, I would definitely try to carry on with songs and music to help change negative minds, with songs like 1974 AD’s “Yo Mann ta Mero Nepali Ho”.

Samriddhi Rai

Racism, ‘colorism,’ casteism—they’re all intertwined and are a stubborn fragment of our society. And all of this will never be cleared in one fell swoop; it’s a gradual change through generations. However, I do believe there’s power in conversations, debates, dialogues and especially music that works as catalysts to undo these stigmas. Nepal is a caste-based society and casteism its inevitable by-product. Therefore, it is even more important to keep talking about the topic. I have personally raised the caste issues through my song “Ma Chahi Nepali” and ‘colorism’ in my song “Ma Dami Chhu.” While the idea of music completely ending racism/casteism is far-fetched, it sure speeds up the process.

Kiran Nepali, Project Sarangi/Kutumba

Music definitely helps fight racism and bridge casteist divides in our society. I’ll give you an example. Let’s look back 5-7 years when sarangi was regarded as a “gandharva instrument”. Now it has become a proud representation of Nepali music. People of all castes have started playing it. It has overcome the caste barrier.

Roshan Sharma, Urjaa

Anything that is universal or truthful has the power to end communal, religious and racial differences. Music is one (and probably the best) universal factor that has the power to evoke positive emotions and change egoistic minds. I recently had a chance to collaborate for a song with the Limbu community of eastern Nepal and the response has been amazing. I am getting so much love from all the communities. Discrimination seems to be disappearing.

Ashesh Dangol, Ashesh and Nekhvam

Societies and communities around the world have used music to fight racism. There are many artists and songs you listen to globally. I believe in ‘art with activism’. Blues, the genre I play, originated in the Black community and it has always fought racism. Even a ‘brown’ person like me touring with my music worldwide has helped change perspectives. Music has no language or boundary. I have always thought of my art as contributing to the development of my society. Most of my lyrics and music these days are thus based on social issues.

Nikesh “Kallie” Bhujel, Screaming Marionette

Music can influence minds. As musicians, we are carriers of the influence, whether or not we are aware of it and whether or not we intend to be. The sound and messages we release through our art impacts listeners in powerful ways. As humans, we are influenced by how we feel. And good music can definitely play a role in helping people distinguish between right and wrong. Music has the power to culturally, morally, and emotionally influence society. Thus, the more intentional we become with the sounds, messages, and moods we create and release through our music, the more powerful we will be in creating a deep positive impact.

Bishal Pradhan, Foseal/Nude Terror

Racism is global and having lived only in my home country I can say casteism exists here too. Even between friends, we don’t talk about it openly but there is definitely a tension between different castes. How we have preconceived notions about certain people who belong to a particular caste reflects how we consciously or subconsciously practice casteism.

I think for musicians, it is imperative to believe in the message they want to give. At least that’s what I try to do with my music. Music is a great medium of expression to talk about racism and casteism, but for this the musicians have to first believe in their own message.

Kengal Shrestha, Type III

More than the power to fight racism, I’d prefer to say that music has the power to spread peace. And it definitely does spread peace. But it depends on how people perceive it. That is how I see my own music too.

Rachana Dahal

Speaking from personal experience, music has been the most powerful tool I've ever worked with. Not only against racism, but music also works wonders in the hearts of people on all sorts of issues.

Sarad Shrestha, Shree 3/Tumbleweed

Music in itself is a language and something that’s truly free in terms of expression. From the very beginning, we have been raising social issues through our songs and live performances.

Suzeena Shrestha, The Act

Music has the power to fight anything. Most people might not relate to speeches or even books. But with music, there’s more probability. Our music also deals with the social issues we face.

Ashra Kunwar, Ashra and the Parables

We need to be an intrinsic learner to understand how racism and discriminatory values affect lives on a large scale. Second, there’s always been racism everywhere, wherever people have fought for their right to live as equals. As a musician, I am a believer in art and activism, and perhaps the best means of activism is music. Music as an art is a potent tool to fight not just racism but any social evil.

Ramya (Nandita Swetha) walks into a police station on a stormy night to file a report on her missing husband. Police officer Rahman (Vijay Prakash) listens to her story as the flashback on her relationship with Karthik (Havish) plays on screen. Then, in the middle of her storytelling, Rahman cuts her off to tell her a different story instead, of another woman named Jenny (Anisha Ambrose), who has filed a similar report. Strangely, her husband’s name is Karthik too and has all the same characteristics of Ramya’s husband.

The story of the bilingual film “Seven”—available in both Tamil and Telugu—is already intriguing before there is another plot twist, added by Abhinaya (Aditi Arya), a visually impaired woman, who files a missing case for her husband, Karthik! Rahman is bewildered to say the least and lodges a manhunt for Karthik, suspecting him of fraud and polygamy.

When Karthik is found and locked up, he strangely refuses to recognize any of the three women, while they seem to have live witnesses who can verify their relationships. He is then visited in the police station by Priya (Tridha Choudhury), who too claims to be his wife. But when she sees him in his cell, she snatches a gun from a police personnel and shoots, but only manages to injure him.

Up to this point, Seven is an enigmatic film that could go in any direction and surprise the audience out of their wits. The uncertainty and suspense in the plot keep it thrilling and interesting to watch. But as the movie progresses, it loses the plot, and goes haywire into improbability and absurdity by the time it reaches its climax. By the time the end credits roll, the film loses all its interesting traits to become just another false promise.

Director Nizar Shafi and writer Ramesh Varma combine their skills in starting this exciting thriller. But there seems to be a big confusion in production by the interval and it feels like someone else took over their jobs in the latter half.

There’s a terrible backstory of a couple of decades ago to explain Karthik’s current situation, and a psychotic killer pops up in the form of Saraswathi (Regina Cassandra). The revelation of her character was supposed to be the turning point of the film but it is so badly written, she ends up with the magnanimity for a villain behind all the confusion and carnage shown in the movie.

Strangely, we never know why the film is called Seven. Looking at the poster again tells us that it’s probably because there are seven ‘important’ characters in the story. To be honest, some of them don’t even deserve the weightage the film’s name gives them.

But what Nizar Shafi misses in direction, he somewhat makes up in cinematography. The camera work is not exactly extraordinary but considering how the film spirals in intensity, the consistency in creating thrilling visuals does manage to be a saving grace. The soundtrack by Chaitan Bharadwaj is also ordinary, but still good in the film’s context.

Meanwhile, the actors, none a big name in the industry, are also average. We know India’s southern belt is not short of acting talents, but not when you use Seven as the reference.

To sum it up, Seven starts as an extraordinary endeavor before it comes crashing down on mediocre grounds. With 1h 57-min runtime, it is like one of those over-zealous marathon runners who take a quick sprint at the start and then lose steam and fail to make it even to the Top 10.

Who should watch it?

Seven fares poorly because of our high expectations of South Indian thrillers. Otherwise, for audience who effortlessly enjoy Hindi-dubbed South Indian movies on YouTube, ‘Seven’ on Netflix can be an entertainer for sure.

Rating: 2.5 stars

Genre: Suspense/Thriller

Cast: Havis, Vijay Prakash, Regina Cassandra

Director: Nizar Shafi

Run time: 1h 57mins