Hindi
Freaky Ali….A slapstick, forced comedy
We have had some sports films which dealt with the theme of an underdog making it to the victory podium after a lot of struggle and toil besides, of course, the glory and honour of the nation. However, the sport has been the one which our people identify with.
Freaky Ali is a love sports story. The sport is golf, a sport purely the domain of the rich. It is also about an underdog but not of the usual kind. In fact, he is a kind of character one would not even expect to see anywhere near a golf course.
Golf is a sport alien to most common people anywhere in the world as it is in India. But, when a film about an independent sport like this is inspired by a Hollywood film, the sport can’t be changed from golf to cricket, a team sport.
Nawazuddin is a debt collector along with Arbaaz Khan. Nikitin Dheer is their boss. This, Nawaz thinks, is the way to make a fast buck. The duo works for the kind the ‘finance institutions’ that existed not long ago in India to recover monies lent to retail borrowers who were not readily forthcoming with repayments.
Earlier, in the movie, Nawaz had tried his hand at selling undergarments. But, when it came to the girl he loved the most, his proposal was rejected because of his profession.
Nawaz lands up on the golf course during one of his loan recovery rounds. Here his boast leads him to try the sport. And, as the film stories can fit in anything, Nawaz surprises all. His latent talent in noticed by a caddie, Asif Basra, who decides to help him hone his skills.
Abracadabra. Nawaz is now a golf champion of international standards. He is soon doing the professional circuit. He goes on a winning spree much to the discomfiture of his rival Jas Arora. Also, working against Nawaz’s interest is Nikitin, who wants him to lose at any cost.
With success comes love — Amy Jackson.
The film loses the battle when it borrows the idea of the sport of golf and an underdog. The comedy is forced instead of emanating naturally from the situations, and falls flat. Direction in the movie is weak to state the least and editing is slack.
Dialogues in the movie are good at some places, especially the lines written for Nawaz. The cinematography is okay. The songs don’t entertain at all. The qawwali, Ya Ali Murtaza, is the only saving grace.
Nawaz shines even in this mundane comedy. Arbaaz Khan manages with his limited acting skills. Asif Basra is okay. Amy has too little to do to make a mark. Jackie Shroff plays a cameo to no avail.
Freaky Ali lacks appeal even for the growing breed of Nawaz fans.
Hindi
Remembering Gyan Sahay, the lens behind film, television and advertising
From a puppet rabbit selling poppadums to Hindi cinema, he framed it all.
MUMBAI: There are careers, and then there are canvases. Gyan Sahay, the veteran cinematographer, director, and producer who passed away on 10 March 2026 in Mumbai, had one of the latter. Over several decades in the Indian film and television industry, he turned lenses, lights, and the occasional puppet rabbit into something approaching art.
A graduate of the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune, Sahay built his reputation as a director of photography across a career that stretched from the early 1970s all the way to the digital age. He was the kind of craftsman who understood that a well-composed shot is not merely a technical achievement but a quiet act of storytelling.
For most Indians of a certain age, however, Sahay will forever be the man behind the rabbit. His direction of the iconic long-running television commercial for Lijjat Papad, featuring its now-legendary puppet bunny, gave the country one of its most cheerfully persistent advertising images. It was the sort of work that sneaks into the national subconscious and takes up permanent residence.
His big-screen credits as cinematographer include Anokhi Pehchan (1972), Pagli (1974), Pas de Deux (1981), and Hum Farishte Nahin (1988). In 1999, he stepped behind a different kind of camera altogether, making his directorial debut with Sar Ankhon Par, a drama that featured Vikas Bhalla and Shruti Ulfat, with a cameo by Shah Rukh Khan for good measure.
On television, Sahay was particularly prized for his command of multi-camera production setups, a skill that made him a go-to technician for large-scale shows and reality programmes. In an industry that has never been especially patient with complexity, he was the calm hand on the rig.
In later life, Sahay turned teacher. He participated regularly in masterclasses and Digi-Talks, often hosted by organisations such as Bharatiya Chitra Sadhna, sharing hard-won wisdom on cinematography, the comedy of timing in a shot, and the sweeping changes brought by the shift from celluloid to digital. He was also said to have been involved in a project concerning a biographical film on Infosys co-founder N.R. Narayana Murthy.
Tributes from the film industry poured in following the news of his passing, with colleagues remembering him as a senior cameraman who served as a rare bridge between two entirely different eras of Indian cinema. That is, perhaps, the finest thing one can say of any craftsman: he kept up, and he brought others along with him.
