Firing reported outside Rohit Shetty’s Juhu residence; police investigate

Early Sunday morning, unidentified individuals fired several gunshots outside the home of Bollywood filmmaker Rohit Shetty in the Juhu area of western Mumbai, prompting an immediate police response and a detailed investigation. According to police sources, the incident occurred at around 12:45 am, when multiple rounds were discharged near Shetty’s residential building. Initial reports indicate that four to five shots were fired, though the precise number of rounds remains under verification by authorities. Mumbai Police, along with crime branch teams, responded swiftly to the scene. Security around the building was heightened, and investigators cordoned off the area as a precautionary measure. Forensic experts and ballistic teams were reportedly brought in to collect evidence, and CCTV footage from the surrounding area is being reviewed to trace the movements of the suspects. #WATCH | Mumbai, Maharashtra | Police and forensic teams reach Director Rohit Shetty's residence, after ...

Golda review – lifeless Meir biopic hides Helen Mirren’s talent in a cloud of cigarette smoke

As a drama about the Yom Kippur war, this film is bafflingly dull. As a portrait of Golda Meir, Israel’s prime minister at the time, it’s even worse

Helen Mirren’s latexed and enhanced portrayal of Golda Meir, Israel’s “Iron Lady” prime minister during the 1973 Yom Kippur war, has been overtaken by a debate about “Jewface” casting because Mirren is not Jewish – addressing why Jews are casually excluded from the otherwise fiercely policed sensibilities about authenticity and identity on screen. (Would they get a white actor, for example, to black up as President Anwar Sadat?) It’s a valid and important question, but not exactly the problem in this stately, stuffy and at times almost comatose TV-movie-type drama about tension in Israel’s corridors of power as the Yom Kippur war exploded and the country faced off against Egypt, Syria and Jordan in a battle for its very existence.

Mirren, normally such a sparkling performer, is lumbered with a grey wig, false nose and jowls, with occasional headscarf and handbag, making her look as if she is playing the Queen doing an impression of Richard Nixon. This Golda Meir impassively chainsmokes her way through wooden potted-history dialogue scenes with her military top brass, while everyone blows cigarette smoke at each other; occasionally she takes a break to lie prostrate on a hospital bed, stoically smoking and dying of cancer. Is she going to die? Why not? The film is flatlining.

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