FWICE demands withdrawal of Ghooskhor Pandat title, warns of strict action

The controversy around the upcoming Netflix film Ghooskhor Pandat, produced by Neeraj Pandey and starring Manoj Bajpayee, grew more intense this week after the Federation of Western India Cine Employees (FWICE) formally objected to its title and urged the makers to withdraw it, warning of significant industry action if the demand is not met. The dispute began soon after the film’s announcement and teaser release, with many viewers and various organisations criticising the title Ghooskhor Pandat as offensive and potentially derogatory toward a specific community. The title combines ghooskhor — a colloquial Hindi term for someone who takes bribes — with Pandat, commonly associated with the Brahmin community. Critics argued that this linkage could perpetuate stereotypes and hurt sentiments. FWICE’s Objection and Warning FWICE, a body representing workers, technicians and artists across more than three dozen affiliated associations, sent a letter to producers’ bodies and major OTT platfor...

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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