‘Metro... In Dino’ (2025) Movie Review - Anurag Basu's Movie Magic

With Metro... In Dino, Anurag Basu has not just made a superior spiritual sequel to Life in a... Metro, but has also matured into a terrifically assured filmmaker. He doesn't merely do the job of a writer-director; he plays the role of a dramatist, a conductor, a magician, and a juggler. I don't think that after Metro... In Dino, anybody would be able to compare Basu with any other Bollywood filmmaker (unless he shoots himself in the foot with the upcoming Kartik Aaryan/Sreeleela project). He has developed an almost phantasmagorical aesthetic for this film, which renders the story both real and surreal. This aesthetic, too, is a product of maturation. It first found its way in Barfi!, then in Jagga Jasoos, and later in Ludo. It was in Jagga Jasoos that we last saw Basu in an exuberant mood. Ludo, unfortunately, suffered from an overload of quirkiness. Metro... In Dino, however, emerges as a perfect blend of Basu's quirkiness, obsessions, and calculations. Here is a man who actually believes in movie magic, which is why he crafts events that could only happen (or have a higher probability of occurring) in the realm of films. Chumki (Sara Ali Khan) gets so drunk that she ends up inside the apartment of a vlogger, Parth (Aditya Roy Kapur). Monty (Pankaj Tripathi) chats with a girl on a Tinder-like app without realizing that he's talking to his own wife, Kajol (Konkona Sen Sharma). Parimal (Anupam Kher), during a college reunion, asks his ex-girlfriend, Shivani (Neena Gupta), to pretend to be his wife, so that his widowed daughter-in-law, Jhunuk (Darshana Banik), can move out of his house and live her own life. 

But it's not just these incidents. Basu takes us into a world that only feels real on the screen, even though the places in Metro... In Dino do exist in the real world. The story unfolds in Mumbai, Delhi, Goa, and Kolkata, yet there is almost no difference between these different corners of India because they are all unified by Basu's whimsical vision. If trams move in front of Parimal's house in Kolkata, we see a metro line behind Parth's Delhi apartment when he is climbing the stairs. In one of the scenes, Kajol, from a height, looks at other characters, some of whom try to sleep while others meet secretly in a room for sex. This scene brings to mind James Stewart in Rear Window, in which he secretly watches his neighbors from his room using binoculars. Basu not only makes you think about Alfred Hitchcock, but also Wes Anderson. Basu doesn't construct elaborate, colorful sets like Anderson. He, however, sees the various cities through the same exquisite, imaginative lens. What's more, Basu, much like Anderson, brings attention to his artifices without undermining the story's emotional power. 

The movie smoothly glides between the talky portions and the musical sequences. The transition is more effortless, more natural than it was in the 2007 prequel. The drama and the songs are interlocked - they are intrinsically connected (Pritam's work is like a balm to the ears in a climate where songs are often reduced to hook steps). With one hand, Basu conducts his orchestra, and with the other, he choreographs his actors. He also grows a third hand, with which he juggles the different tones like balls, one after another. Basu puts us in such a soothing, trance-like state that we embrace Metro... In Dino with smiles on our faces. In our euphoria, we start seeing ordinary scenes, ordinary settings as something surreal. The bus stop where Parth and Chumki discuss relationships and commitment appears to have been lifted from the pages of a comic book or a fairy tale. The camera captures the greenery of Goa with such excitement that it comes across as a place in heaven. The cities, the objects in Metro... In Dino look so lovely, so pleasant that you start asking God for Basu's vision so that you can tolerate your mundane surroundings after coming out of the theater.

There are some similarities between Life in a... Metro and Metro... In Dino. Like Shilpa Shetty's Shikha, Shruti (Fatima Sana Shaikh), and Kajol's marriage becomes bitter and loveless, and they almost cheat on their spouses. Sen Sharma's character once again screams to vent out her frustration, but this time, she's quickly interrupted. It's Chumki and Parth who are allowed to scream, though not on the terrace. If Nafisa Ali and Dharmendra were the old lovers in Life in a... Metro, who reunited after many years, Neena Gupta and Anupam Kher fulfill that function here. Kher and Gupta's characters, though, don't get a tragic ending. Still, it's not a happily-ever-after either. The scene where Chumki proposes to Parth, and he mentions honeymoon tickets, is not that different from that scene in the 2007 film where Shruti proposes to Monty, and he mentions clothes and blouses. What's more, Shiney Ahuja's Akash was a struggling, passionate theater actor there. Ali Fazal's Akash is a struggling, passionate singer here. All this shouldn't be considered a sign of creative bankruptcy. This is Basu's way of saying that life or love in a metro is still the same. People are still facing the same old problems - their issues or circumstances haven't drastically changed. It's just that thanks to the wide availability of the Internet, someone like Kajol can now maintain an illusion of a perfect marriage on social media apps. This is why Basu doesn't treat his threads too seriously. He comes across as a worldly sage who knows it's futile to worry about some things in life, especially when they tend to repeat themselves. Near the beginning of the film, Kajol is unable to focus on a video call from Monty as he tries to show her the destruction of "their place." Towards the end, Shruti is unable to focus on a video call from Akash as he tries to make her listen to his compositions. 

For Basu, the world is a stage, and the people in it are flawed yet lovable. This is why he allows unpleasant feelings to seep through the atmosphere of celebration. We laugh when Monty is tricked into appearing naked in front of other guests at a hotel, or when he is chased by bodyguards in another hotel. But we also perceive his frustration, his humiliation. We also see that Kajol is probably taking things too far, an accusation hurled at her by people close to her. I also liked that scene where Kajol gives a satisfying smile when she tells Monty (or the Wing Commander) on the dating app that she talks to him about things she cannot discuss with her husband, and then after a few seconds, the smile disappears when she realizes what she means by her statement. Basu also sneaks in adorable moments, like the one where Kajol and Monty's daughter (Ahana Basu) tells Chumki that her friend wants to know how will she figure out if she likes boys or girls and Chumki ends the conversation by saying when the time will come, she, i.e., the Basu character, will know what she desires. The queer thread is handled with sensitivity, with care. In Life in a... Metro, it was almost laughable. This again proves that Basu has gained more experience. Metro... In Dino could only have been made by someone who is filled with love for both life and fiction. 

The only "sour note," I guess, can be found in Kajol and Monty's relationship. It's perhaps too...neat. It would have been nice if Basu had just gone inside Monty's mind for a bit. I wanted to know how he convinced himself to go after Kajol after finding her and a young man in a room together. Basu asks us to accept a big leap, but it's not that easy. If only he had stayed in the discomfort zone for some time, we could have witnessed Monty's thoughts and the justifications he must have given to himself all night. Shruti and Akash's struggle lacks specifics, such as conversations related to money, which is why it can seem a little generic. Sana Shaikh and Ali Fazal, though, bring some vigor into the storyline. Furthermore, Basu hits the mute button when Shruti covers an event as a journalist. This is his way of saying, "There is no room for politics." That's a pity because by limiting the range of conversations between the characters in the film, Basu's musical drama proves that its text is not as rich as its visuals, its aesthetics. Another quibble is related to scenes that are clearly generated with the help of green screens. When the background appears artificial, the magic dissipates temporarily, as seen in a train scene set in the hills. 

Then again, Basu is at his peak. These bumps in the road don't spoil the film. You have to be a genius to execute that scene where Sanjeev (Saswata Chatterjee) spies on Parimal and Shivani and cries. It's simultaneously sad and funny. Basu doesn't waste anything. Almost every moment is packed with a variety of emotions as well as information. Yet, Metro... In Dino never feels overstuffed or claustrophobic. It's a miracle that it moves so freely. The film is light on its feet; its jaunty steps and gleeful attitude remind you of Singin' in the Rain and its exhilarating energy (Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen adorned their film with physical flexibility. What Basu brings is visual flexibility). Basu wants you to sit back and relax. He only asks you to have a good time. Metro... In Dino is the kind of cinematic enchantment that makes you fall in love with movies.

Final Score- [8.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times