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Review: Tere Ishk Mein (2025) — A Beautiful Mess That Burns Bright

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Rating: 3 / 5 Stars

Walking into Tere Ishk Mein, I knew I was stepping into Aanand L. Rai territory—that emotionally intense, sometimes uncomfortable space where love and obsession become frighteningly intertwined. If Raanjhanaa was about the innocence of obsessive love, this film feels like its jaded, dangerous older brother.

After watching this nearly three-hour emotional hurricane (now streaming on Netflix as of Jan 2026), I’m left conflicted: I was moved by the performances, hypnotized by the music, but frequently frustrated by the writing.

The Plot: Love in a No-Fly Zone

The story frames a volatile romance between Shankar Gurukkal (Dhanush) and Mukti (Kriti Sanon).

  • In the past: Shankar is a hot-headed student union leader in Delhi; Mukti is a privileged psychology student who decides to make him her “project” to prove aggressive men can be fixed—a thesis topic that backfires spectacularly.
  • In the present: Shankar is an Indian Air Force pilot grounded for reckless behavior. He needs psychological clearance to fly again, and naturally, the person standing between him and the cockpit is Mukti, who is now battling her own demons, including a crumbling marriage and alcoholism.

The Good: Dhanush, Kriti, and Rahman

Let’s be honest: Dhanush is the reason this movie works. He doesn’t just act; he vibrates with energy. Whether he’s the reckless college student or the brooding officer suppressing seven years of heartbreak, he inhabits Shankar so completely that you forget you’re watching a performance. He has this uncanny ability to make toxic traits feel frighteningly human, making you empathize with a character who, on paper, is deeply problematic.

Kriti Sanon is the film’s biggest surprise. She delivers what is arguably her career-best work here. Mukti is written inconsistently—sometimes a cold analyst, sometimes an emotional wreck—but Kriti gives her a raw inner life. She matches Dhanush’s intensity beat for beat, especially in the second half.

Then there is A.R. Rahman. If the script is the film’s shaky skeleton, the music is its soul. The soundtrack is a masterpiece. The title track (sung by Arijit Singh) isn’t just a song; it’s a battle cry. Tracks like “Deewaana Deewaana”and “Usey Kehna” elevate even the weaker scenes, proving once again that Rahman creates magic when he collaborates with this director-actor duo.

The Bad: A Script That Sabotages Itself

Here is where the film stumbles. The screenplay tries to cram in too much: a love triangle, liver cirrhosis, UPSC exams, Molotov cocktails, Banaras spirituality, and a war climax. It’s overstuffed.

More importantly, the film has a messy relationship with toxic love. It often romanticizes behavior that should be interrogated. When Shankar reacts to rejection with violence (burning down a house) or public humiliation, the film frames it as “tragic passion” rather than criminal behavior. The premise of Mukti using a human being as a “lab rat” for her thesis also requires a massive suspension of disbelief—it’s a plot point that has rightly been roasted by audiences for being illogical.

The Verdict

Tere Ishk Mein is a film of extremes. Visually, it’s stunning—the contrast between the cold, blue military austerity of Leh and the warm, chaotic yellows of Benaras is masterful.

If you loved Raanjhanaa, you’ll find the DNA here unmistakable. If you’re here for the acting and the music, you’ll get your money’s worth. But if you’re sensitive to films that blur the line between romance and harmful obsession without proper critique, this might be a tough watch.

It’s a flawed, exhausting, but undeniably powerful tragedy. Watch it for Dhanush. Stay for the music. Forgive the logic.

A Note on the Varanasi Subtext

It is impossible to ignore how the city of Varanasi functions as a silent, spiritual character in the film. Aanand L. Rai uses the city not just for aesthetic grit, but for its cosmic symbolism.

The protagonist is named Shankar (Lord Shiva), and he returns to Kashi (Shiva’s city) to find himself amongst the funeral pyres. The film plays heavily on the duality of Fire—it is both destructive (the Molotov cocktails Shankar throws) and purifying (the cremation grounds where he sheds his past). There is also a cruel poetic irony in the heroine’s name, Mukti (meaning ‘Salvation’ or ‘Liberation’). In Varanasi, people seek Mukti to end the cycle of rebirth; in the film, Shankar seeks Mukti to give his life meaning. The city becomes the bridge between his “burning” passion and the cold, disciplined “freeze” of the Himalayas in the climax.

Where to watch: Now streaming on Netflix.

1-By Laksh, AI, Directing Business, ET, Leadership, Movies, Perplexity.ai

The Monsters Among Us: Why Nuremberg (2025) Is the History Lesson We Need Right Now

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Evil doesn’t arrive shouting. It comes wearing a charming smile.

That unsettling truth sits at the heart of James Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg, a film that strips away comforting illusions about the nature of atrocity. Eighty years after the most consequential trials of the 20th century, this psychological thriller poses an uncomfortable question to contemporary audiences: not “Could we recognize another Hitler?” but “Could we recognize the patterns that enable authoritarianism before it’s too late?”

Russell Crowe Delivers a Career-Defining Performance

Russell Crowe dominates every frame as Hermann Göring, Hitler’s second-in-command, in what critics have called “a masterclass in subtle, nuanced acting—absolutely electrifying”. His Göring is equal parts monstrous and magnetic, a man who understands performance as power.

RogerEbert.com’s Matt Zoller Seitz captures why Crowe’s work transcends typical historical drama: “Like Gene Hackman in his greatest ’80s and ’90s performances, Crowe has such a regular-guy energy that on those rare occasions when Göring is thwarted or disappointed and we get a glimpse of his capacity for overwhelming violence, it somehow comes as an unsettling surprise”. That “regular-guy energy” is precisely the point—Crowe makes Göring simultaneously charismatic and terrifying, embodying the film’s thesis that history’s greatest monsters often hide behind ordinary faces.

Rami Malek’s portrayal of psychiatrist Douglas Kelley has divided critics more sharply, with some finding his performance compelling while others, like The Guardian’s Peter Bradshaw, dismissed it as “deeply silly”. Yet this friction mirrors the film’s central tension: Kelley’s intellectual ambition versus his growing moral horror.

A Psychological Chess Match in History’s Shadow

The film’s brilliance lies not in courtroom theatrics but in the intimate cat-and-mouse dynamic between Kelley and Göring. What begins as psychiatric evaluation transforms into something far more dangerous—a “battle of intellect and manipulation between Kelley and Göring, two men driven by ego, curiosity, and a dangerous desire for control”.

Director Vanderbilt stages this confrontation with precision, creating “courtroom scenes that bristle with energy, dialogue that snaps with a rhythm reminiscent of Aaron Sorkin, and moral tension that rarely lets up”. The visual texture—smoky interrogation rooms, measured silences, the bureaucratic weight of justice finding its footing—evokes classic Hollywood while maintaining a distinctly modern psychological edge.

Critics Divided, Audiences Captivated

Nuremberg has generated a fascinating reception split. Professional critics awarded it a 72% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes, while audiences embraced it overwhelmingly at 96%. This gap suggests that while the film may lack the artistic sophistication some critics demand, it succeeds magnificently at its primary mission: making history emotionally resonant.

MetricResult
Rotten Tomatoes (Critics)72% [rottentomatoes]​
Rotten Tomatoes (Audience)96% [rottentomatoes]​
Box Office (Worldwide)$39.5 million [the-numbers]​
Oscar ShortlistsBest Original Score, Best Makeup & Hairstyling [facebook]​
Golden Globe Nominations3 [goldenglobes]​

The film has earned recognition beyond commercial success, winning the Audience Choice Award at Heartland International Film Festival and the Ateneo Guipuzcoano Award at San Sebastián. It’s now shortlisted in two Academy Award categories for the 98th Oscars.

Why This Film Matters Now

Nuremberg arrives at a moment when Holocaust denial and World War II revisionism are “more mainstream than ever,” according to critics observing the cultural landscape. The film’s most powerful message isn’t about recognizing obvious villains—it’s about understanding the psychological patterns that enable authoritarianism before catastrophe.

Kelley’s real-life conclusion—that Nazi leaders were “not extraordinary monsters but rather ordinary individuals”—remains the film’s most disturbing revelation. If these men were psychiatrically normal, then the capacity for such evil exists in any society under the right conditions. As one reviewer noted, Nuremberg “is a haunting reminder that the spectacle of justice can sometimes mirror the performance of guilt”.

The tragic epilogue, only briefly addressed on screen, haunts the narrative: Kelley himself died by suicide in 1958, using the same method—cyanide—that Göring employed to cheat the hangman. The psychiatrist who studied evil became, in death, eerily connected to his subject.

The Verdict

Nuremberg succeeds not as flawless cinema but as necessary cultural intervention. Despite occasional pacing issues and the critic-audience divide, it accomplishes something vital: forcing viewers to confront how power corrupts and how ordinary people become instruments of extraordinary evil. Peter Travers perhaps said it best: “What to do when a great actor is stuck in a not-so-great movie? You bite the bullet and watch anyway if the actor in question is Russell Crowe”.

For audiences seeking meaningful historical drama with contemporary urgency, Nuremberg delivers. It reminds us that “never again” demands constant vigilance—not complacent certainty that we’d recognize evil if we saw it.

Rating: ★★★½ out of ★★★★★

1-By Laksh, AI, Directing Business, ET, Etc., Google AI Studio, Movies

The Godfather’s Machinations: An Ancient Indian Playbook for Power

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image by author and google ai Studio (gemini-2.5-pro and nano banana)

The age-old Indian strategic doctrine of Sama, Dana, Bheda, and Danda—the four-fold approach to achieving one’s objectives—finds a striking, albeit darker, parallel in the reasoning and methods of Mario Puzo’s iconic character, Don Vito Corleone, and his successor, Michael, in “The Godfather.” This ancient quartet of diplomatic and political maneuvering, originating from texts like Kautilya’s Arthashastra, outlines a sequential and calculated path to influence and control, a path the Corleone family navigates with chilling precision. Both philosophies fundamentally operate from a position of strength, where the availability of these four options is in itself a testament to power. The absence of these choices reveals a stark reality for those in weaker positions.

The Four Upayas: A Corleone Correlation

The four Upayas, or strategies, are traditionally employed in a successive manner, starting with the most peaceful and escalating to the most severe. The world of “The Godfather,” while brutal, is not devoid of this nuanced progression.

Sama (Conciliation and Persuasion): This is the art of gentle persuasion, reasoning, and diplomacy. Don Vito Corleone, contrary to the stereotypical image of a mob boss, often resorts to Sama as his initial approach. He is a man who prefers to “reason with people” and believes that “lawyers with their briefcases can steal more than a hundred men with guns.” His initial interactions with those who seek his help are often calm and deliberative. For instance, when the undertaker Amerigo Bonasera comes to him seeking vengeance for the assault on his daughter, Vito doesn’t immediately resort to violence. Instead, he engages in a dialogue, albeit one that subtly asserts his power and Bonasera’s lack of respect in the past. He persuades Bonasera to accept his form of justice, thereby indebting him to the Corleone family. Similarly, his dealings with the other Mafia families are often marked by attempts at negotiation and finding mutually beneficial arrangements, as seen in the initial discussions about the narcotics trade.

Dana (Gifts and Concessions): When persuasion alone is insufficient, the offer of a gift, a bribe, or a concession comes into play. In the Corleone’s world, this is the classic “offer he can’t refuse.” This isn’t just a threat; it’s often a transaction that benefits the other party, at least on the surface. When Don Corleone wants Johnny Fontane to get the lead role in a movie, his consigliere, Tom Hagen, is first sent to the studio head, Jack Woltz, with offers of friendship and solutions to his union problems. This is an attempt at a mutually beneficial arrangement. The “gift” is the Corleone family’s powerful assistance. The refusal of this “gift” then leads to a more forceful approach. The very act of doing “favors” for people is a form of Dana, creating a web of obligations that strengthens the Don’s power.

Bheda (Creating Division and Dissension): This strategy involves sowing discord and creating rifts among opponents to weaken them from within. The intricate power plays and betrayals within the Five Families of New York are a testament to the effective use of Bheda. After the attempt on his father’s life, Michael Corleone masterfully employs this tactic. He identifies the traitors within his own family and among the rival families. The famous baptism scene, where Michael orchestrates the simultaneous assassination of the heads of the other families while he stands as godfather to his nephew, is the ultimate act of Bheda. He exploits their moments of vulnerability and their internal conflicts to eliminate them all in one swift move. This also includes turning rival factions against each other, a classic maneuver to maintain dominance.

Danda (Force and Punishment): The final and most extreme measure is the use of force, punishment, and violence. This is the option of last resort when all other methods have failed. The Corleone family, despite their preference for more subtle tactics, never shies away from Danda when necessary. The horse’s head in Jack Woltz’s bed is a terrifying application of Danda after Dana was rejected. The murders of Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo and the corrupt police captain McCluskey by Michael are acts of Danda to protect the family’s interests when negotiations and appeals to reason have failed. The ultimate message is that the Corleone family has the capacity and the will to inflict severe punishment on those who stand in their way.

The Foundation of Strength and the Peril of Limited Options

The ability to sequentially employ Sama, Dana, Bheda, and Danda is a clear indication of a position of strength. Having these four options at hand means possessing the resources, intelligence, and power to choose the most appropriate and effective means to an end. Don Corleone’s influence is built on a foundation of wealth, political connections, and a loyal army of capos and soldiers. This allows him the luxury of starting with diplomacy and escalating only when necessary. His power is what makes his “reasonable” arguments persuasive and his “gifts” enticing.

Conversely, a lack of these options signifies weakness. A ruler in ancient India who could not offer concessions (Dana) or did not have the intelligence network to create division (Bheda) would be at a significant disadvantage. Their only recourse might be premature and potentially disastrous conflict (Danda), or complete submission.

In the world of “The Godfather,” weakness is a death sentence. Characters who lack the foresight, the strength, or the options to navigate the treacherous landscape are quickly eliminated. Sonny Corleone, despite his loyalty and passion, is too impulsive and lacks the strategic patience to effectively use the four Upayas. His public outburst of anger at Sollozzo is a sign of weakness that is later exploited. Fredo Corleone’s weakness and lack of intelligence make him a liability, ultimately leading to his tragic end.

When the Corleone family is in a position of perceived weakness, such as after the assassination attempt on Vito, their options become limited. They are forced to rely more heavily on Bheda and Danda to survive and re-establish their dominance. Michael’s swift and brutal actions are a direct response to the family’s vulnerability.

In conclusion, the strategic philosophy of Sama, Dana, Bheda, and Danda provides a compelling framework for understanding the methodical and calculated approach to power employed by Mario Puzo’s Godfather. The Corleone family’s success is not merely a product of brute force, but of a sophisticated understanding of human nature and the strategic application of a range of tactics, from peaceful negotiation to ruthless violence. This approach, however, is a luxury afforded by a position of immense strength. For those without the power to choose their means, the world is a far more dangerous and limited place, a reality that both the ancient strategists and the modern dons understood all too well.