Okay, my eyes are burning. It's 2:13 AM and I just finished Malang on Netflix and I feel like I just mainlined a tube of neon paint and chased it with a Red Bull. My living room is a mess, I kicked over a bowl of chips at some point, and my brain is just… vibrating. It’s not a good vibration, it’s not a bad vibration, it’s just… a vibration.
Whoa. That’s the first word. Just… whoa. The colours. My god, the colours. It’s like the director locked a cinematographer in a room with a 90s rave and a crate of highlighters and said “go insane.” I started the movie and my entire couch, my entire apartment, just felt drab and grey in comparison. I had to pause it five minutes in just to go turn down the lights in my apartment so the screen could pop even more. That’s the power of this thing. It doesn’t just invite you in, it hijacks your senses.
And Aditya Roy Kapur. I haven’t seen a dude have this much fun on screen since… ever? He’s not playing a character, he’s just embodying a vibe. The vibe of a hot, rich, slightly unhinged guy who has zero responsibilities and a permanent vacation. Him and Disha Patani just existing on screen together in Goa, with the slow-motion running and the beach hair… I was physically leaning forward, so far forward I think I pulled a muscle in my back. I was trying to get into the screen. I wanted to be there. Which is a stupid thought, because they immediately get plunged into a murder plot, but for a minute there… it was pure, unadulterated escapism.
There's this one shot that's just burned into my retinas. It's during one of the first action sequences. They're on a motorcycle, and the camera does this 360-degree spin-around thing, but it's not a smooth camera. It feels like a GoPro, all shaky and immediate. And for a split second, you see the world from their perspective, the wind, the chaos, the neon lights of Mumbai blurring into streaks. It’s not a clean shot. It’s messy. But it’s stuck in my head because it felt so… alive. So kinetic.
It actually reminded me of this one time in college, we went on this spontaneous road trip to a beach town. No plan, no hotel booking, just a car full of idiots and a playlist of terrible pop songs. We drove all night, and I remember sticking my head out the window like a dog, feeling the cold air and just screaming for no reason. It was that feeling of pure, stupid freedom. That’s what that shot felt like. That feeling of being so in the moment that nothing else matters… Never mind. That's a dumb story.
But then the plot happens. And honestly, now that I'm typing this… what was the plot? Something about revenge. And a cop with a weird hair fetish. I thought I was following it, I thought I was invested in Anil Kapoor’s eccentric, aggressive police officer. But now, my brain is replaying it, and it just feels like a series of cool setups with the thinnest possible thread connecting them. The big reveal about why they’re doing what they’re doing… I thought it was so dramatic in the moment! The music swelled, the flashback happened, I was like “YES, JUSTICE!” But now? Was it actually kind of… dumb? Was the motivation that paper-thin? I don't know. My brain was probably just distracted by the cool slow-mo shots that accompanied the flashback.
And Kunal Kemmu! His character was just… a lot. A whole lot. He's chewing scenery like it's made of candy. I thought he was hilarious, a perfect comic-book villain. But was he supposed to be funny? Or was he supposed to be genuinely menacing? I can't tell. The movie doesn't seem to know either. It’s like it wants to be this dark, edgy thriller about revenge, but also this vibrant, sun-soaked romance, but also this wacky buddy-cop movie with Anil Kapoor. It’s everything, all at once. It’s a mess. A beautiful, colourful, confusing mess.
Watching this on Netflix at home was the only way to process it, I think. I had to pause it to go to the bathroom, I had to pause it to look up a song, I had to pause it because my mom called and I had to explain that no, I wasn't in trouble, I was just watching a movie where a man throws a bicycle at another man. Can you imagine watching this in a cinema? You’d have whiplash. At home, on my couch, I could just lean back and let the madness wash over me. I could rewind that one insane dance sequence in the club because I couldn't believe what I just saw. The Netflix interface, popping up and asking "Are you still watching?" felt like a genuine intervention. "Yes, Netflix," I wanted to scream, "I'm still watching this beautiful disaster, leave me alone!"
So yeah. I don't know what I just watched. Was it good? Was it bad? It’s both. It’s a feast for the eyes and a famine for the brain. The dialogue is cheesy, the plot is held together with scotch tape and good intentions, but the energy. The sheer, uncut, chaotic energy of it all is kind of irresistible. It’s a movie that’s designed to be experienced, not understood. And I experienced the hell out of it.
Okay, my thoughts are starting to short-circuit. It's late. I need to go look at a blank wall for a while.
7/10. - decent
-ishaan