SCOOP: Sunny Deol-Aamir Khan-Rajkumar Santoshi's Lahore 1947 likely to be renamed Batwara 1947

In February 2026, Bollywood Hungama had reported that the makers of Lahore 1947 are looking for a change of title. We have now learned from sources that the film is likely to be rechristened as Batwara 1947. An article in Mid-Day on April 17 mentioned that the period drama has been tentatively titled as Batwara 1947. A source told Bollywood Hungama, "The makers prefer the title Batwara 1947. In all probability, this would be the title of the film once all the stakeholders agree to it. A clearer picture will emerge in a few weeks on this front." In February 2026, Bollywood Hungama carried a quote from a source that stated, "Lahore 1947 is based on the famous play ‘Jis Lahore Nai Dekhya’. Since the film is set in the Pakistani city and during the Independence period, the title Lahore 1947 was initially deemed suitable. But now the makers feel that there can be a better title that is apt for the story of the film." The film will release in cinemas on August 13, that...

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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