First of all, the fact that I survived Metro… In Dino deserves a medal, or at the very least, a lifetime supply of aspirin. This wasn’t a movie. This was an endurance test disguised as cinema. From the opening frame to the final, merciful credit roll, it went from one nonsensical situation to another, like a drunk autorickshaw weaving its way through traffic with no brakes.
And then there was the music. Oh, the music. Not just bad—godawful. Imagine if someone handed Pritam a guitar and said, “Now play in every single scene, whether it makes sense or not.” He and his merry band appeared so often I started wondering if I had wandered into a bloated MTV Unplugged session. By the end, their random pop-ups were so unintentionally hilarious that the movie could’ve been rebranded as Pritam and Friends: The Musical That Nobody Asked For.
Plot-wise, where do we even begin? Apparently, men are mostly cheaters, but don’t worry—women can teach them a lesson before inevitably circling back to them. The script couldn’t decide if it wanted to be feminist, anti-feminist, or just plain farcical, so it chose all three and tied itself into knots.
There’s Sara Ali Khan, the quintessential nerdy girl with a reliable fiancé. Naturally, she tosses him aside to pursue the “travel blogger who has commitment issues.” Groundbreaking stuff. I mean, who could have seen that plot twist coming… except literally anyone who has ever seen a romcom in their life?
Then there’s the struggling musician and his ever-sacrificing girlfriend. Their scenes felt like the writer Googled “tragic subplot ideas” and just copy-pasted.
Not to forget, there’s also a weird dynamic between Anupam Kher and his daughter/daughter-in-law. I got bored trying to guess which one it was.
Meanwhile, the cheating husbands float in and out, cartoonishly convenient, like props wheeled in whenever the script needed a jolt of drama.
Performances? Hard to comment when the characters themselves were flattened into cardboard cutouts of clichés. “The cheating husband.” “The long-suffering girlfriend.” “The unpredictable guy who can’t commit.” It’s like the casting director was playing stereotype bingo.
The film wanted to be deep, modern, feminist, musical, socially relevant—pick a lane, any lane—but instead crashed spectacularly into all of them. It ended up feeling more aggressive and chaotic than if they’d just stuck to a simple “boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl again” formula.
Now, here’s the real heartbreak: the cast. Neena Gupta, Anupam Kher, Konkona Sen Sharma, Pankaj Tripathi, Sara Ali Khan, Ali Fazal, Fatima Sana Shaikh, Aditya Roy Kapur—an ensemble so talented you’d expect fireworks. On paper, this could have been the big urban epic, a multi-threaded story for the ages. Instead, the script and direction reduce these brilliant performers into caricatures. It’s like watching world-class chefs forced to cook instant noodles. Individually, each actor has the chops to hold a film together. Collectively, they deserved better than this half-baked mess.
In the end, Metro… In Dino is overly long, wildly far-fetched, and unintentionally comedic every time Pritam and his band popped up like unwanted wedding guests. Forget “In Dino”—this was In Denial.
Verdict: The cast deserved a masterpiece. They got a musical circus. And we, the audience, got three hours we’ll never get back.
Honest Reviews 