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The best jokes are often the ones not intended for laughter.

Bhediya is an imaginative triumph. And the source code of its success resides in the jocular belief system. The film doesn’t take itself seriously and that turns into a gift that keeps on giving.

From a bird’s-eye view, Bhediya is an environment satire wrapped in the horror comedy foil.

A realist conflict perched atop fantastical aftermaths, the film carries an outlook which doesn’t aim to reform or demonise the society, but rather cartoonise it.

Racist humor, insensitivity and feudalism are ingrained in each characters vices – what you choose to chuckle at slyly reflects the bias programmed within. Romance, thankfully is minimal and low-key, allowing the hilarity to gallop.

Bhediya oscillates between being a character-driven film to a plot-driven tale like a hypnotist’s chain. The film swaps cues from characters to plot wherever dullness tends to lurk.

You’re always invested, infested by either grossing out at snarky-shot excreta or a tail wagging CGI standout. You’re in for the ride and it doesn’t disappoint.

Amar Kaushik’s comedies are of the wisecrack sort. It comes from a space of self assurance. The more secure a person you are, the better shall be your self-deprecating humor.

Bhediya claims pride at finger-poking itself and owning it’s shortcomings. Plot devices done to death or tropes trembling on the crutches of time, Bhediya takes jibes at its own creative limitations and not just addresses the elephant in the room, but trains it to dance.

Most crucially, Bhediya gets its inherent politics right.

No ass-pleasing or detesting accompany the narrative. The film mocks the universe equally. The film also doesn’t suffer from the savior syndrome that recent films have been plagued with, whenever the premise is set in Northeast of India.

The North Easterners here are smart, tuned in and most importantly normal life an Indian should be. Neither war torn survivors nor chilled out Hillbillies, Arunachalis in this film, led by the seamless performance of Paalin Kabak are finally somewhat geographically and culturally appropriate. Yet, there’s long way to go and understand that Northeastern hill rangers aren’t as poverty-stricken as mainland stigma imagines them to be.

Which leads us to the serious stuff in the film – the conflict.

Tum karo pedon se pyaar toh amrit barsega. The very idea of a deforestation story placed in Arunachal Pradesh is generic. The foundation lacks inventiveness and the consequent world building is also pretty sketchy in the film.

The practical portions of the film are half-baked and not well researched. Perhaps, a better study of the roadway politics and mafia could’ve rendered the film sufficient more plot points and arcs but that’s a story for another day, another film probably.

This whole clunky fray seems passable for the film, as mentioned, isn’t here to prove a point but screw around with it. The journey isn’t saving the green but shooing away the whacked out werewolf within. The Bhediya.

And the Bhediya is a riot.

Every frame of the supernatural-spirit animal is a blast. The killings are aesthetically acidic and satisfying – an avenging forest guard-dog ravaging apart petty humans. Social commentary garnished with punchy dialogues spray wit on a plaster of the good ole’ slapstick. Some jokes are so meta, Zuckerberg might want to buy them.

Bhediya works because it tickles you so hard, you let go of the fact that it bit your bum a while ago.

Bhediya is a raging soul and Abhishek Banerjee is its throbbing heart. An actor with shapeshifting abilities, Banerjee plays the jester of this court and smacks every scene out of vicinity with his impeccable and elusive comic timing. This man is a massive credit to the Hindi film industry. A rare, irreplaceable talent.

In the melee, Kriti Sanon’s role gets warped in a catch 22 situation. A character that could’ve been much better written and provided more meat. But commendable how she makes chicken salad out of the chicken shit presented to her and works towards the payoff. A very selfless and benevolent performance, in hindsight. The woman’s a team player.

Varun Dhawan is at a very interesting point in his career. Statistically, one of the most successful Indian actors ever, the man hasn’t yet been coroneted with the marquee status he so rightfully deserves. A pro-wrestling/sports entertainment fanatic, Dhawan’s career trajectory is akin to that of WWE Superstar Cody Rhodes.

Generational talent stuck in the undercard – leaves company – works around the world and returns home as a megastar. This is Varun Dhawan’s made-man year and Bhediya is his WrestleMania 38. Took him ten years to break the proverbial glass ceiling.

The torch hasn’t been passed. Dhawan has snatched it. As his favourite Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would quote, Varun Dhawan has Layeth The Smacketh Down!

Writer Niren H. Bhatt and director Amar Kaushik have a notorious entertainer. Bhediya is the assclownery we need in this world too worked up.

And if the post-credit scene is a cue, safe to assume that madness has just entered the chat.

This Dussehra, a Hindu festival that signifies the victory of good over evil, I came across a message that was circulating across WhatsApp, Facebook and Instagram that read “Never draw a line around a woman”.

We’ll have to dig a little deeper to fully understand what this means in the context of the festival.

But in short, Dussehra is celebrated as the victory of Lord Ram over Ravan, who captured Goddess Sita with ill intentions. On this day, effigies of demon King Ravan are burned to signify destruction of evil – literally and symbolically.

You may be wondering what has this Hindu festival got to do with the Emma Mackey starrer Emily?

The crux of the above-mentioned statement is the essence of the film and the sentiment it carries for women in every era.

“Never draw a line around a woman”

Based on the life of author Emily Bronte, Emily takes us on a journey that would’ve / could’ve been the inspiration for to write the bestseller “Wuthering Heights”.

The biographical drama introduces Emily atop a hill, talking to herself. She’s one with nature, with the breeze gracing her face and fingers.

Only, she’s not talking to herself – she’s narrating a story between a captain and the queen. Fictional characters developed by Emily through whom she’s vicariously living her present.

She is animated and perky with a twinkle in her eyes as she feels both characters’ emotions and their being. But not for long…

As she climbs down the hill, so does her spark. She transforms into a reclusive young lady, doubting her every move and her existence all together, in a world where she was a misfit.

In a world that is constantly drawing boundaries her to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

A vibrant girl on the hill who moved with confidence, is now too afraid at the foot to even look above her own shoes with a fear of being judged. Or perhaps being punished for thinking differently.

Again, you may still be wondering how does any of this have any correlation with Dussehra?

Emily is a young girl who is imaginative, fierce, and enigmatic, which is also the reason for being misunderstood and a misfit in society.

A heartbroken Emily is forced to wear a literal and metaphorical mask to protect herself from judgement. The pain of being an oddball or perhaps too progressive for her time.

She is fighting for her place in a confined world that’s always rejected her for being eccentric. A world that keeps pushing her deeper in a box and drawing boundaries around her for thinking different.

A world where’s no freedom in thought.

Emily finds solace and comfort in her stories, with fictional characters that give her life. A highly imaginative introvert drowns herself in thoughts that are too wild for people to appreciate or even comprehend.

It’s far easier to simply live inside her head, in a world she has created without boundaries or restriction in thoughts.

She’s loud, provocative, emotional, overwhelmed in her imagination and even thrives in the world made with a pen on paper. But she’s too intractable for the real world.

But it’s only a matter of time till she pushes that line of restriction to a space where there’s total freedom in thought and action. A place in the world where she’s remembered and celebrated as one of the most popular novelist and poet to have ever lived.

Emily, written and directed by Frances O’Connor, is a heartening and inspiring journey of womanhood, love, sibling rivalry and freedom in thought … with a touch a goth.

Cinematography by Nanu Segal is worth praising for capturing the most scenic frames and skilfully setting the tone especially in moments of eerie silences.

Last but not the least, the magnetic presence of leading cast members Mackey and Oliver Jackson-Cohen make it a gripping watch.

The slow-paced screenplay may not be for everyone, but the film’s heart is in the right place to transport you to a different time in the world. A world with yet another woman who had the courage to walk over the line drawn around her and set herself free.