Alpha, Beta… Gamma Gone !!

Alpha, Beta… Gamma Gone! : My quick take on two movies “Alpha and Baby Do Die Do” (Theatrical release)

A Survivor’s Report

Public Service Announcement: I survived Alpha and Baby Do Die Do. The doctors say recovery is possible, though my cinematic faith is still in intensive care.

I watched them in Alpha-Beta order. Or should I say Alpha & Beti, because both films revolve around sibling relationships. Yes, that’s a PJ. After these back-to-back screenings, my IQ has entered the Witness Protection Program.

Alpha

YRF proudly calls this the seventh chapter of the Spy Universe. Seven already? At this pace, even the Marvel Multiverse might file a copyright complaint for excessive expansion.

Apparently, the recruitment criteria for RAW have been quietly updated:

* Dance-fight like you’re conducting a Navratri dandiya workshop.

* Wear a bikini in the jungle because even mosquitoes appreciate glamour.

* Perform enough wire-assisted somersaults to qualify for Olympic gymnastics.

* Ride a superbike as if roads are merely decorative suggestions.

* Maintain one permanent facial expression while entire buildings explode behind you.

* Dress exclusively in body-hugging black because camouflage is so last season.

Congratulations. You’re now India’s deadliest spy.

The screenplay resembles Frankenstein’s monster, stitched together from the discarded limbs of better Hollywood action sequences. Every scene politely whispers, “You’ve seen me somewhere before.” The only things consistently absent are originality… and occasionally, physics.

The plot is so anorexic that remove one more scene and it legally qualifies as a trailer.

Somewhere along the way, someone seems to have watched Dhurandhar, found Hamza fascinating, and tried reverse-engineering the character without understanding what made him compelling in the first place. For a franchise that spends hundreds of crores manufacturing spectacles, it’s astonishing how little appears to have been allocated to the Writing Department.

This isn’t an action thriller.

It’s a two-and-a-half-hour showroom for slow-motion hair flips… featuring a Kabir cameo where our desi Greek God arrives wearing what looks suspiciously like one of Jaadu’s discarded outfits. Sadly, even Jaadu ki jhappi couldn’t rescue this mission.

Baby Do Die Do

Compared to Alpha, this initially feels worthy of a Nobel Prize in Screenwriting… for about fifteen minutes.

The premise, a deaf and mute assassin, is genuinely refreshing. Unfortunately, the writers treat this brilliant idea the way most people treat a gym membership after February.

The story soon abandons intelligence, logic takes voluntary retirement, and suspense dies of loneliness somewhere in the second act.

Huma Qureshi gives it everything she has, but even the Titanic couldn’t have been saved by polishing the deck chairs.

A few performances genuinely deserve applause, especially Sikandar Kher and, believe it or not, Chunky Pandey. Yes, I am not joking 😜.

The film’s neo-noir aesthetic is commendable. In fact, it has enough bleakness to make Anurag Kashyap proud. It carries the same gloriously gloomy energy as his much-discussed Bandar.

On a lighter note, “Do Die Do” is transliteration of the Marathi surname Kar-mar-kar. Thank heavens it wasn’t Palshikar, otherwise the title would’ve become Baby xxx-xxx-xxx 😜.

And here’s my completely unverified prediction: Baby seems tailor-made for a sequel. Because in today’s cinema, unresolved endings are apparently an investment strategy.

Overall, Both films prove three timeless truths:

* Gravity is optional.

* Logic is negotiable.

* Storytelling is now permanently under construction.

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