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Set in early 1910s New York, ‘When the Tides Held the Moon‘ by Venessa Vida Kelley follows Benigno “Benny” Caldera, a Puerto Rican blacksmith who immigrates to America chasing a better life and a promise made to his late aunt. Struggling to make ends meet, Benny’s craftsmanship catches the eye of a flamboyant showman named Morgan, who hires him to help build a massive water tank for his Coney Island sideshow attraction. But the job comes with a sinister twist, as Benny’s first assignment is to help capture a mythical merman to display as a living “oddity” in Morgan’s Menagerie of Human Wonders.

Also Read: ‘When the Tides Held the Moon’ Book Review – Love in a Fish Tank

The mission succeeds, and the captured merman, Rio, becomes the centerpiece of the show. Locked inside the tank like a prized exhibit, Rio is subjected to cruelty and exploitation, with only Benny showing him fragments of compassion. As the days pass, Benny finds himself increasingly drawn to the ethereal creature he helped imprison. The novel alternates between Benny’s earthbound perspective and Rio’s lyrical, poetic reflections, contrasting the merman’s sorrowful grace against the grim realities of human greed and loneliness.

Over the course of ‘When the Tides Held the Moon’, their uneasy connection deepens into a complicated romance that blurs the lines between guilt and love. Benny sees his own struggles mirrored in Rio’s captivity, both are outsiders trapped in worlds they don’t belong to. The two begin to spend more time together, and Rio teaches Benny to swim, an experience that feels freeing to the human protagonist. Yet as his affection grows, so does his moral conflict: freeing Rio would mean losing him forever. The tension builds as Benny wrestles with this impossible choice, culminating in a daring plan to release the merman.

By the end of When the Tides Held the Moon, the book never flat-out says it, but it strongly hints that Benny is part merman. Right from the beginning, we’re told he was found in the water by his aunt and never knew his parents. He struggles with mysterious lung problems on land, yet can hold his breath underwater far longer than seems humanly possible. As the story unfolds, it’s as if the sea is the one place his body fully makes sense, until it finally feels like Benny can exist underwater just as naturally as he does on land.

Early on, the idea of Benny ever truly being with Río feels heartbreakingly unlikely, because one belongs to the deep and the other to the shore. But in the climax, when we see them head into the sea together, the story suggests a different future: Benny is no longer chained to the land alone, and the ocean that once separated them now becomes the place where they can build a life side by side.

Read Next: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)

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The Japanese fiction novel ‘Butter’ by Asako Yuzuki is a slow-burn, paradoxical tale about a journalist seemingly emaciated by her feminist ideals, and a convicted woman crucified by the patriarchal structures she eulogizes.

The plot follows journalist Reiko’s attempts to land an interview with Manako, a convict serving time at a Tokyo prison for murdering three men. It could be the story of the year, and Reiko goes above and beyond to make contact with Manako, a “gourmet” chef believed to have lured men into relationships with scrumptious home-cooked meals.

While admittedly ‘Butter’ can feel frustrating at times, it offers a deliciously dark, gripping look at two very different schools of thought and how those worlds collide, all for an “exclusive scoop.” Here are four reasons to read the novel:

1. The novel cleverly pits Reiko, a progressive, outspoken, fiercely independent journalist who prides herself on being a strong and independent working woman, against the enigmatic Manako Kajii, who firmly believes women are meant to serve men. Watching these two polar opposites slowly forge an oddly intimate connection over months of guarded conversations is one of the most fascinating thing about Butter.

Manako glorifies a traditional world where women express love through perfect meals and rely on men for money. Rika stands at the opposite end, committed to independence and financial agency. So watching those two beliefs collide is one of Butter’s greatest pleasures (even though it can also be weird to read).

2. Part of what makes Butter such a gripping read is the unsettling knowledge that it draws from reality. Inspired by the infamous case of Kanae Kijima, a woman convicted of murdering men she met online, the novel blurs the line between fact and fiction just enough to keep readers constantly questioning where truth ends and imagination begins. That faint echo of real-world horror lingers beneath every chapter, turning the story into more than just a psychological drama; it becomes a voyeuristic dive into society’s obsession with sensational crime, and the uncomfortable fascination we hold for women accused of monstrous acts.

3. One of the most striking elements of Butter is how starkly it exposes the quiet loneliness simmering beneath Japan’s hyper-efficient exterior. The characters orbit each other but rarely connect. Rika technically has a boyfriend, yet their relationship survives on sporadic meetings squeezed between deadlines; Manako, once doted on by lovers, now sits isolated behind prison walls; and even Reiko, seemingly settled in her marriage, moves through life with an ache she can’t name. Beneath all the food, crime, and media frenzy, the novel reveals a society where people are surrounded by others, yet achingly lonely, unable to break free from roles and expectations that keep them painfully alone.

4. If you love food, Butter will absolutely ruin your self-control. The novel is steeped in sensual descriptions of culinary indulgence, from Manako’s near-religious devotion to gourmet recipes, to Rika losing herself in elaborate home-cooked meals and even signing up for an exclusive (and outrageously expensive) cooking circle for wealthy women.

Every interaction between the two seems punctuated by talk of flavor, texture, technique, and the transformative power of real ingredients. There’s a scene where Manako passionately denounces margarine and rhapsodizes about the glory of real butter, and Rika, completely spellbound, rushes off to buy a slab and recreate a simple dish on the spot. It’s impossible to read Butter without craving something decadent, preferably slow-cooked, golden, and lavishly slathered with butter.

5. Butter is surprisingly feminist, even with a misogynist like Manako at the center. Despite Manako’s infuriating tirades about how women exist to serve men, Butter is, at its core, an undeniably feminist novel. Its entire emotional architecture rests on women – Rika, Manako, and Reiko – and the complicated ways they shape, challenge, and transform one another. The men drift in and out, largely irrelevant, while the women grow through confrontation, curiosity, jealousy, admiration, and even obsession.

The book isn’t feminist because everyone behaves like a perfect role model; it’s feminist because it shows women influencing each other’s lives with honesty and intensity, allowing them to question who they are and who they want to become. It’s messy, it’s uncomfortable, and it’s painfully real, proof that female power also lies in connection, not just rebellion.

Read Next: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)

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‘The Mighty Nein’ is rated TV-MA and is meant for viewers 17 or older

It seems nothing forges stronger alliances than a little time spent in prison together. Episode 3 of ‘The Mighty Nein’ ended with the main characters locked up as the primary suspects behind the Carnival carnage. If you recall, a freakish giant frog at the traveling carnival went rogue and began spitting strange green shards, transforming people into murderous monsters. The creature vanished with Toya, the young showgirl who trained it, while our heroes were promptly thrown in jail.

“You’re clearly some kind of a criminal gang. Now give me a name for the booking sheet”

Episode 4 of the show opens with a comical sequence of all six characters – Molly, Caleb, Jester, Beau, Nott, and Fjord – being interrogated by the authorities over the carnival violence. When asked if they’re part of a criminal ring, Jester even humors the interrogators and claims her ‘gang’ is called ‘The Sensual Seven’.

So, well, the primary focus of this edition is on the aftermath of the grisly deaths at the carnival. But more importantly, it’s in this chapter that the Mighty Nein finally become a gang of sorts, working together to find a way to break out of prison and clear their names. Part of their plan also includes finding and rescuing Toya from the creature, if she is still alive.

Meanwhile, Essek of the Kryn Empire continues scheming alongside Trent, and with a small circle of allies they work to unlock the full power of the Beacon. And honestly, halfway through yet another display of Trent’s sadism, I caught myself asking, “Can he just die already?” If the audience is rooting for the villain’s demise this early, it means they’re nailing the role.

While this episode isn’t as fast-paced, action-heavy, or brutally intense as the last, it’s still immensely entertaining, thanks to the sharp character moments that showcase the group’s evolving dynamics. An amusing example is Beau’s immediate superiority complex. She confidently assumes the others know nothing about the Cobalt Soul, the order she belongs to as a monk. Her surprise is priceless when Caleb casually begins listing detailed facts about it, revealing unexpected knowledge beneath his quiet exterior.

The episode wraps up with another shocking scene of crime, and a compelling cliffhanger that promises major consequences. Overall, it’s a thoroughly entertaining chapter of The Mighty Nein, and it feels like a true turning point as the characters finally begin to function as a real team.

Watch ‘The Mighty Nein’ on Prime Video.

Also Read: ‘The Summer Hikaru Died’ Review: 2025’s Best Horror Anime (Audio Version Below)

Motherthing is suitable for readers 16 and above.

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

Abby has mommy issues. Her own mommy issues. Her husband’s mommy issues. She wants to be a mom but dreads other moms. And when her mom-in-law dies, she is scared the old lady is haunting the house and trying to drive her husband to death, so that mommy and son can be together in the afterlife, while dashing Abby’s dreams to be a future mom.

So, yes, Motherthing by Ainslie Hogarth is a “domestic horror novel,” where the horror lies in Abby’s fears, anxiety, and sudden isolation from her loving husband Ralph, as the latter descends into a dark depression after his mother’s death.

Motherthing opens with the grisly death of Laura, Ralph’s mother, who continues to haunt the couple even after her death. While Abby tries to make Ralph’s grief easier, she reflects on her own bleak childhood. Her memories reveal a childhood shaped by a single mother fixated on chasing the next boyfriend, a woman who consistently put new men ahead of her own daughter.

There’s just no greater feeling in the world than being loved by a man. By someone sensible. Someone who matters. It makes you feel legitimate in a way. You have to be real for a man to love you, you know? Does that make sense? Pass me my smokes, sweetie, thank you. And the lighter. Click. Glow. Burn.

There are different ways to interpret the title, but for Abby, a “Motherthing” is something that serves as a substitute for one’s mother. In Abby’s case, it’s an old couch in her house, which gave her comfort when she was a lonely child, something always there for her, like a mother would be.

So, this is a sad, weird novel, which explores the kind of power “motherthings” have on us. The story eerily depicts the way parents can mould children and both Abby and Ralph are shaped by the way their mothers treated them. As a horror fan, I was expecting more supernatural spooks, but those were scarce.

For Ralph, everything that reminds him of his mother, the television, a forgotten piano in the basement, the house they live in, anything carrying memory of his mother, is a motherthing. And Abby needs to fight Ralph’s motherthings to reclaim his love. Abby’s devotion for Ralph is obsessive, strange, and borders on terrifying. She would go to any length to have his attention and affection, and she is not going to lose to her dead mother-in-law.

Even though it took me over a month to finish ‘Motherthing’, Ainslie Hogarth’s style of writing is slightly reminiscent of the stream-of-consciousness technique, without being too fragmented and random. Readers are invited into the twisted mind of Abby, who is constantly thinking of bizarre things, which can spark discomfort in the reader.

For most parts, ‘Motherthing’ is about how Abby desperately trying to pull Ralph back to her. A major sub-plot explores Abby’s professional life as a care worker for the elderly, where she is overtly attached to one lady and sees herself as the woman’s mother figure. Her professional and private lives collide in a terrifying unexpected way.

The 16th chapter offers a slight break from the doom-and-gloom of Abby’s mind, with a flashback of how Abby met Ralph at a bar. They instantly click and author Ainslie Hogarth gives them a ‘meet-cute’ that way more adorable than many romance novels.

Abby and Ralph are a happy enough couple, that’s until Laura emotionally blackmails her son into moving back with her. Abby does hope to build a loving relationship with Laura, but those feelings aren’t reciprocal. In life, Laura treats her terribly, and in death, her influence only gets worse!

The climax feels slightly jarring, it’s not something you’d see coming, but it’s not wholly satisfying either. Regardless, this novel makes for an interesting read.

Rating: 4 on 5. ‘Motherthing’ is on Kindle Unlimited.

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Also Read: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)

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Guillermo del Toro didn’t just adapt Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’ for the screen, but gave the classic some fresh twists, which work in the film’s favor. Sure, maybe some fans of the original may not have liked the changes. However, some plot changes add more depth the dark gothic tale. Here are 5 things the film does better than the book:

1. Victor Frankenstein’s character is better sketched out: The fact that del Toro’s Frankenstein is older and more ambitious than Shelley’s protagonist, makes a lot of his actions more decisive. For instance, Victor obsessively works on bringing his creature to life, so when months of hard work bear fruit, he doesn’t recoil from his creation like his book counterpart.

This change makes a massive difference to the story and also makes a lot more sense. After all, Victor had been stitching up the man together, part by part, chopping up corpses, so he is well aware of what the creature is going to look like. And since film Victor is more experienced, his creature isn’t as deformed or grotesque. Although, Frankentein’s creature remains larger than the average man, so he inspires instant fear on those who spot him for the first time.

2. The changed father-son relationship adds more depth to the film: In Mary Shelley’s novel, Victor’s father, Alphonse Frankenstein, is gentle, supportive, and deeply affectionate toward his son. But Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation radically reshapes this dynamic by portraying Victor’s father as emotionally distant, harsh, and almost antagonistic. This shift adds a compelling layer to Victor’s psychology: instead of a loving upbringing, he grows up under the weight of neglect and impossible expectations, classic “daddy issues” that help explain his obsessive behavior later in life.

When Victor’s mother dies during childbirth and his father fails to save her, Victor internalizes that failure as proof of his father’s inadequacy. From that moment, he becomes fixated on mastering life and death, driven by resentment, guilt, and a desperate need to surpass the father who disappointed him. This reworked father–son conflict adds emotional logic to Victor’s later cruelty toward his creation. The monster becomes the recipient of the same coldness, rejection, and perfectionism Victor experienced in childhood. The psychological cycle of trauma becomes clear in Del Toro’s version in a way the novel never explicitly explores.

3. Del Toro Fixes Victor Frankenstein’s Sudden Horror: One of the most compelling improvements in Del Toro’s adaptation is the way it handles the moment the creature comes to life. In Mary Shelley’s novel, Victor spends months obsessively constructing his creation, piece by piece, only to collapse in horror the instant the being opens its eyes. It has always been difficult to reconcile: if Victor meticulously assembled every limb and feature, how is he suddenly shocked by the creature’s appearance? His immediate panic and abandonment feel abrupt, leaving the monster deserted and confused without ever being given a chance.

Del Toro’s film chooses a far more believable path. When the creature awakens, Victor is ecstatic with triumph rather than terror. Instead of running away, he tries to teach and guide his creation, attempting to shape him into something functional and human. The pair even coexist under the same roof for several weeks, forming the beginnings of a relationship rather than severing it at birth. It adds emotional depth that the novel bypasses, making the eventual breakdown between creator and creation far more tragic and earned.

4. Frankenstein’s Creature is more humane: Another striking improvement in Del Toro’s adaptation is how the creature’s humanity is portrayed. In the film, he is not a vengeful killer but a frightened, confused being fighting only for survival. Unlike Shelley’s Frankenstein, where the creature murders Victor’s young brother William in cold revenge, the adaptation removes the senseless brutality that always felt jarringly out of character. In the book, the creature has just discovered language, literature, and empathy, demonstrating real emotional intelligence; yet suddenly he strangles a child simply to punish Victor. The shift from gentle observer to calculated murderer never aligns convincingly with the compassionate soul he has become.

5. The Creature Gets Deserved Closure:

One of the most powerful departures Del Toro’s Frankenstein makes from Mary Shelley’s novel is the way it chooses to end the story. In the book, Victor collapses from illness aboard the ship before the creature ever arrives, leaving no opportunity for reconciliation. In the film, the creature reaches Victor while he is still alive. Instead of silence and regret, we get conversation.

The creature recounts his painful journey, how he survived alone, learned to read and decipher the complexities of human nature, and struggled to find even the faintest place in the world. Hearing the being he once rejected speak with intelligence and vulnerability forces Victor to finally confront the consequences of his cruelty. In a moment of raw remorse, he apologizes and acknowledges the creature as his son, something Shelley’s Victor never does.

Where the novel ends with unresolved anguish, and Despair, the Frankenstein film ends with earned catharsis. It gives both creator and creation a goodbye filled with humanity, something the monster was always denied. And in doing so, Del Toro delivers an ending that feels not only more satisfying, but more emotionally honest.

Watch ‘Frankenstein’ on Netflix.

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Just 74-minutes long, the film ‘Humans in the Loop’ follows young tribal woman Nehma (Sonal Madhushankar), as she returns to her village in Jharkhand and takes up a job at a AI data centre, so she can support her toddler Guntu and preteen daughter Dhaanu (Ridhima Singh), and not lose custody to the father.

‘Humans in the Loop’ primarily focuses on Nehma’s struggles to adapt to the new job which involves training AI by tagging images, while also dealing with a rebellious Dhaanu, who is unhappy in the village and would rather live with her father in capital city Ranchi. Mysterious flashbacks show Nehma’s life as a young tribal girl, along with her unique relationship with the forest and its animals.

At work, Nehma is taught ‘AI is like a child, and we teach it to differentiate between things’. In subtle irony, Nehma begins to understand the AI better than her own child, although she does come around to realizing her responsibilities as a parents towards the end, to deliver a pretty convenient ‘happy ending’.

While the film’s look at how young women in India are working to shape AI at data centers for foreign companies (thanks to the cheap labor of course) offers a unique perspective. However, the other elements of ‘Humans in the Loop’ don’t mesh well. Nehma’s separation from her husband, her fraught relationship with her daughter, and a mystical connection to the forest, pitted against the AI tagging job, feels a little forced in the 74 minute runtime. Nehma might be trying to connect to her roots, but her daughter feels completely uprooted.

‘Humans in the Loop’ conveniently overlooks the fact that Nehma is an irresponsible parent, she vanishes for years, leaving her daughter behind, only to return and tear her away from the father who actually raised her. On top of that, she expects the young Dhaanu to babysit the baby through the day, indicating the lack of support system in a village she grew up in.

Yes, Nehma tries her best to provide, but why should her daughter bear the consequences of her reckless decisions? Parents make terrible choices all the time, that’s fine, but the film forgives and even idealizes her. In real life, rebuilding trust with an estranged parent, especially one who remains distant and relocates their child to a place where they feel alien, would never be so simple.

Sonal Madhushankar portrays Nehma with conviction, and it is certainly refreshing to see Humans in Loop deliver a lead who looks relatable and isn’t glamorized in any way for the cameras. In Nehma, one can see the image of a relatable working woman facing different challenges. Ridhima Singh as Dhaanu also delivers a memorable performance as young girl at odds with her mother.

Overall, ‘Humans in the Loop’ is an interesting one-time watch. Still, the limited runtime makes it feel like the story is carrying more themes than it comfortably can.

Watch ‘Humans in the Loop’ on Netflix.

Read Next: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)

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‘The Girl Who Draws on Whales’ by Ariela Kristantina features beautifully dreamy artwork, but even that couldn’t keep me interested in its formulaic story.

The plot follows a girl called Wangi, part of an isolated island community, who draws on whales and can communicate with the majestic creatures. One day, when a wounded calf arrives at their village, Wangi decides to investigate what happened, going on a dangerous adventure with her brother, Banyu. The siblings set out on a boat, get lost in a storm, and then entangled with evil pirates looking to disrupt their way of life. It’s the usual ‘nature versus corrupt humans’ theme.

Interestingly, ‘The Girl Who Draws on Whales’ is narrated by a different character, who introduces himself after a few pages as Citra, the ‘legendary map guy’. Citra is on a ship with a bunch of men who’re looking to discover hidden islands and buried treasures. Their strategy? Follow the whales. So when the men rescue the siblings, they hope to get the whereabouts of their mysterious village out of them, but Wangi rightly distrusts them, landing her into trouble.

Despite the stunning, colored illustrations in this graphic novel, I quickly lost interest in the story. Nothing about anybody is exciting, and not even hidden fantastical structures in the sea and beautiful mythical creatures could pique my curiosity. Many story developments were just way too random, or convenient.

It’s the poor character development and the forced “oh we are so special” narrative that made The Girl Who Draws on Whales’ very boring. Also, after a few pages, my mind started drifting in a weird direction, and I began to wonder how the whole “drawing on whales” thing could count as animal cruelty. Wangi essentially treats a whale’s body like a public wall and mars it with graffiti. Yes, her drawings are beautiful, but why am I supposed to believe that the whales truly don’t mind being used as doodle pads by a kid?

This was just not for me.

Rating: 2 on 5. The Girl Who Draws on Whales in on Kindle Unlimited.

Read Next: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)

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A few days before watching the 2025 animated film ‘In Your Dreams’, I happened to skim through an article in Vogue headlined ‘Eldest daughter syndrome is affecting more than your mind’, which is essentially about how elder daughters might be ‘over-caring’ for their loved ones at the cost of their own health. Stevie, the protagonist of this film is a bit like that: she thinks it’s her responsibility to keep her family together, and ensure that her bickering parents do not split up and break their home.

Directed by Erik Benson, Alexander Woo, ‘In Your Dreams’ is all about how Stevie (voiced by Jolie Hoang-Rappaport) and her annoying, mischievous brother Elliot (Elias Janssen) stumble upon a magical land that allows them to have the same dreams in an alternate fantasy world inhabited by the ‘Sandman’, who has the powers to make people’s dreams come true. So, Stevie decides to ask Sandman for a wish, however, getting to the King of dreams is wrought with dangers… and nightmares. The siblings go on a crazy adventure to get their wish.

Funnily, ‘In Your Dreams’ opens with a cute sequence of a younger Stevie happily helping her parents out in the kitchen. The three of them are having a blast, that’s until baby Elliot starts crying for attention, and Stevie wishes she didn’t have a brother. Fast-forward a few years, Elliot is still annoying, but he loves his big sister.

Simu Liu (Shangi-Chi, Marvel Zombies) and Cristin Milioti (Palm Springs, The Penguin) voice the parents, who used to be in a band together, but now it’s just the father struggling with his music career, while the mother has a teaching job. Due to creative and personal differences, the couple keeps getting into arguments, and the sensitive Stevie is seriously worried about her parents splitting.

Stevie’s innocent efforts to make her parents work highlight ‘In Your Dreams’ might seem funny, but it serves as a cautionary mirror to adults about the impact of overlooking a child’s emotional intelligence and insight into household dynamics. Although, it’s the adorable love-hate sibling bond between Stevie and Elliot which brings a lot of warmth to the tale.

“I can’t move to the city. My skin will lose its beautiful country glow!” – this was Elliot’s hilarious response when his sister tells him their parents might separate and the kids will have to move from their small town. It doesn’t really sound like something a little boy would say, but at least it indicates how Elliot has preserved his childlike worldview and doesn’t understand the serious implications of a divorce between his mum and dad.

The siblings’ adventures into the wild, weird world of dreams, where both their fantasies and nightmares come alive, deliver a lot of fun, whimsical moments. And in keeping with the global K-pop fever, especially with Netflix’s K-pop Demon Hunters turning into a smash hit, ‘In Your Dreams’ also features a Korean character, a teen called Joon Bae whom Stevie meets at a bookstore and develops an instant crush on. To keep him around, Joon Bae takes a second part-time job at a restaurant Stevie’s family frequents, and well, he obviously turns up in her dreams too.

The animation for ‘In Your Dreams’ however was a hit and miss for me. The character designs were minor tweaks from stuff that already exist in Disney Pixar universes, and Stevie often looked like a plastic doll with a bad hair-cut. On the other hand, the character design for the Sandman was quite unexpected, he looked like a mash of Santa Claus and God from Matteo Ferrazzi’s webtoon ‘Adventures of God’.

In a few scenes of ‘In Your Dreams’, the animation switches up the style to old, colorful, cartoon network style designs (like the scene pictured above), and I wished they had done the whole film like that. It’s more playful and energetic.

The climax is clichéd, relying on the power of “family” and giving the kids a happy ending, which is going to make kids believe that they can indeed go Parent Trap mode and save their parents from splitting. Not sure if that’s a great idea. But otherwise, it’s a decent one-time watch.

Rating: 6.5 on 10. Watch ‘In Your Dreams’ on Netflix.

Read Next: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)

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“No Chee!” – this might probably be the only relatable thing Ananya Pandey utters in the ‘Tu Meri Main Tera Main Tera Tu Meri’ teaser, where Kartik Aryan is playing a familiar version of his older character, with Ananya as his leading lady.

Directed by Sameer Vidwans, who worked with Kartik Aryan on ‘Satyaprem ki Katha’, this new romance follows two people who meet on vacation and fall in love. So visually, ‘Tu Meri Main Tera Main Tera Tu Meri’ boasts all the usual elements of a Bollywood romance hit: gorgeous foreign locations, sculpted leads, and colorful song-dance routines.

The 94-second teaser for ‘Tu Meri Main Tera Main Tera Tu Meri’ gives very little away, though certain moments feel faintly reminiscent of Luv Ranjan’s ‘Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar’. Kartik Aaryan, best known for his viral monologue against women in Pyaar Ka Punchnama, once again slips into the role of a man who seems to enjoy grumbling against the ladies.

Ananya Panday, on the other hand, plays a woman seeking a 1990s-style romance in 2025, whatever that means. We see glimpses of Kartik romancing Ananya, while simultaneously mocking her for what he perceives as double standards, being a feminist yet expecting chivalry and concessions from men.

The teaser ends with Ananya’s character getting stung by a Jellyfish and Kartik Aryan referencing to the Friends episode “The One With the Jellyfish,” where Monica is stung by a jellyfish and Chandler ends up peeing on her to ease the pain. He suggests the same, and that’s when she screams “No Chee!”.

Well, if the “funniest” moment in the teaser has to be borrowed straight from a classic sitcom, that already says plenty about how ‘Tu Meri Main Tera Main Tera Tu Meri’ is shaping up. It looks like a painfully generic rom-com hoping its lead pair’s star power can carry it through.

The film is set to release on December 25th. Watch the trailer on YouTube, it’s also below.

Sneha Jaiswal (Twitter | Instagram)

“Shimmer” instantly carries you into a bleak dystopian–fantasy world, where the only sparks of warmth are Matías and Lucía, siblings stranded on a desolate shore with a man. If the children didn’t call him father, you’d never guess that the stern, joyless figure who denies them even the smallest pleasures was their dad. And that’s one of the messages of the short film: not everybody is meant to be a parent, and sometimes, they burn out the light in their kids.

Directed by Andres Palma, and written by Santiago Maza, “Shimmer” is about twenty minutes long and opens with a mysterious scene of Lucía throwing a flare from a cliff, while her little brother Matías playfully seeks her out to play. The siblings then joyfully indulge in some shadow play, before their father interrupts them and puts them to work.

“You only learn the worst from your sister.”

His first words in ‘Shimmer’ are cold, harsh, something you’d expect from a stranger. The siblings almost cower at his appearance. Which is why, until the kids refer to him as their father, one wouldn’t associate such a close familial connection between them.

Lucía plays the real parent to the imaginative Matías, while their father buries himself in a project he believes will secure their escape. He resembles the classic ‘mad scientist’ from sci-fi tales, driven so fiercely by his ambition that he neglects and damages those closest to him. So while he is busy working to ‘save’ his family, little does he realize that Lucía might not even want to be a part of his plan, and is working on her own ‘Plan B’.

The animation of ‘Shimmer’ is at par with major animation studios, and the characters have the classic big-doe eyes one sees in Disney films. The world building is unique, intriguing, and the viewer is left guessing until the end about the whereabouts of the family.

Matías’ character design stands out best in ‘Shimmer’ – an adorable little boy, in baggy clothes, and an astronaut’s helmet. They way he is dressed in ill-fitting clothes might be a subtle way to indicate how negligent the father is. Lucía and Matías seem content when left to themselves, but their smiles vanish the moment their father enters the scene. It is the older Lucía who bears the brunt of his extreme vision for escape and survival, since she understand the selfish nature of his obsession.

The last stretch of the film is a magical spectacle, alive with extraordinary beings and culminating in a powerful open ending. A definitive conclusion about what becomes of the children might have offered more closure, but perhaps the point is that children must choose their own direction when parents become too distant and overbearing.

Rating: 4 stars on 5.

Read Next: Mary Shelley Vs del Toro’s Frankenstein – 12 Differences (Audio Version Below)