Alia Bhatt’s former assistant accused of leaking confidential production house data to foreign entity

The investigation into the financial fraud case involving Alia Bhatt’s former personal assistant, Archana Shetty, has taken a serious turn with fresh allegations surfacing. Sources within the Juhu Police have confirmed that Shetty allegedly leaked confidential information related to Bhatt’s production house, Eternal Sunshine Productions, to an unidentified individual based in the United States. According to officers familiar with the probe, the data leak is believed to have involved sensitive business documents, financial reports, and potentially unreleased project details. The motive behind the leak is currently being examined, with authorities suspecting it may be linked to financial gains or the exploitation of proprietary content. In parallel, Shetty is also accused of transferring large sums of money from Alia Bhatt’s personal and company-linked accounts into those belonging to multiple individuals. Among the recipients named in the preliminary investigation are Satvik Sahu, Sim...

American Graffiti at 50: a classic hangout comedy with a surprising melancholy

George Lucas’s 60s-set tale of California teens offers some freewheeling fun but also a lingering sadness

Ninety-nine times out of 100, the postscripts that get tucked in before the closing credits, telling us where the characters’ lives have gone from there, are totally unnecessary, especially in a fictional story where their fates are better left to the viewer’s imagination. But in George Lucas’s American Graffiti, which turns 50 this week, they are the most important part of the film, not least because two of the four characters don’t have much longer to live. We can feel that darkness lingering around the edges of Lucas’ dusk-till-dawn nostalgia piece about the last night of summer vacation in 1962 Modesto, California, even while its teenagers are getting into mostly light-hearted forms of trouble. This night has to end, and when the sun comes up, their entire world turns back into a pumpkin.

From the opening shot of Mel’s Drive-In, set to Bill Haley and His Comets’ Rock Around the Clock, American Graffiti seems to unfold inside a snow globe, an idealized past with invisible borders that separate it not only from the outside world, but from the future itself. It’s one of those films, like its spiritual successor Dazed and Confused, that has the quality of a hangout comedy, loose-limbed and goofily episodic, but laced with an air of melancholy that’s so subtle you miss it entirely. (That’s why the postscript is such a slap in the face.) It aches for a scene that had passed just a decade earlier, before the tumult of the Vietnam war and counter-culture, but must have seemed, even then, like ancient history.

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