Metro In Dino review: A modern-day musical that plays lost and found with its cinematic rhythm!

Anurag Basu's musical tale of romance, Metro In Dino, is an acquired taste, one that grows on you and moves you in moments, even if not as a whole.

Remember when Facebook first came around, and the most exciting part was changing your relationship status? The options were simple: single, committed, and it’s complicated. And somehow, no matter which one you picked, love always felt like it belonged to the latter category. Not that this is anything new, love has always been complicated. It just looks different at different times. Hence, no matter how many romantic films we watch, our hearts always crave for the two people in love to overcome the odds and end up together, even if it means repeating the whole messy cycle of falling in love again. Metro In Dino taps into that feeling. It's not perfect, but it reminds us that love isn’t about falling once; it’s about choosing to fall again and again, often with the same person.

In a Life In A Metro fashion, the film dives into the chaotic inner lives of interconnected strangers. So, we get an ensemble of people tangled in love, longing, and loneliness. There’s the trio of friends—Parth (Aditya Roy Kapur), Akash (Ali Fazal), and Shruti (Fatima Sana Shaikh). Then there’s a whole family unit with Shibani (Neena Gupta) and her husband (Saswata Chatterjee), their two daughters Kajol (Konkona Sen Sharma), her husband Monty (Pankaj Tripathi) and their kid, and Thumri (Sara Ali Khan). And finally, there’s Parimal (Anupam Kher), who lives with his widowed daughter-in-law.

The film plays like a generational relay race in love, with each set of characters representing a phase of life, only to inevitably cross over into another generation. The young lovers- Parth, who has commitment issues, and socially awkward Thumri, who is overly committed, holding on simply because she’s in a relationship. The young married couple- Akash and Shruti, who feel straight out of an Imtiaz Ali film—two highly sensitive individuals trying to make something whole out of passion, careers, expectations, and the overwhelming weight of life. Kajol and Monty are stuck in the monotony of middle-aged marriage, stale and teetering on the edge of collapse with extramarital affairs. And then comes the older generation- Shibani, her husband, and her long-lost love Parimal, trying to find meaning in life’s final act while dealing with love’s old ghosts.

What’s interesting is how the film maps these stages, from the messiness of young love to the quiet ache of old age, reminding you that matters of the heart don’t really grow up; they just wear different costumes. But just like the emotional baggage in the film unravels the burden of carrying weight, the film itself starts to crumble under the burden of legacies. Basu is a filmmaker who knows how to juggle chaos with calm and care. Whether it was Ludo, Barfi!, Jagga Jasoos, or Life In A Metro, his stories have always been a mix of whimsy and grounded. Here, you can feel pieces of all those films bleeding in. Akash-Shruti carry the quiet heartbreak of Barfi, with their self-sacrificing silences. Parth-Thumri bring the oddball chemistry of Jagga Jasoos and transformative opposites-attract energy. Kajol-Monty, or Parimal-Shibani, are like Ludo characters caught in games of chance, desire, and role play. But somehow, all those themes start to pull in from different directions. Instead of blending, they compete, and the coherence slips. While the first half feels tight and promising, the second half begins to wobble and the narrative starts chasing its tail, trying to stretch time and land emotional beats that don’t always connect.

Also Read: How Life in A Metro turned coincidences in love into the language of real love!

What also hangs heavily over the film is the legacy of Life In A Metro. Given, Metro In Dino is its spiritual sequel so it naturally inherits that same musical DNA that gave Basu and Pritam a musical identity. This time, they take it a step further, it’s not just background songs or the band popping up between scenes. The characters themselves sing, breaking into musical monologues that deliver backstory and emotion mid-conversation. It’s bold, sometimes charming, but also overwhelming, especially with the band still showing up to sing ballads. There are moments you just want the music to pause and let the silence speak. Still, this isn’t the kind of “musical” we usually imagine in Hindi cinema; it’s closer to what the genre actually demands, where music and story are inseparable. In that sense, it’s a rare film that treats the musical form sincerely. It tries to be both a proper musical and a Bollywood-style emotional ride. Sometimes it lands, sometimes it spills over.

Visually too, the film loses that distinct texture we’ve come to expect from Basu. The camera that once made us fall in love with Mumbai’s traffic, rains, trains and bus stops now feels more like aesthetic packaging, hevaily curated for musicals. Hence the cities whether Bangalore, Goa, Mumbai, or Delhi all start to look the same. The actors too comfortably settle into the performative and exaggerated world of Basu. You do get the feeling you’ve seen versions of these performances before in Basu’s older films or others. But somehow there is also comfort in this familiarity. Musically, this film doesn’t quite hit the highs of the original Metro soundtrack, but it fits the world of the film. And then, just like that when the music stops suddenly some moments really hit like Akash and Shruti holding each other while quietly falling apart, Kajol’s emotional outburst about refusing to become a doormat like her mother, Thumri letting go of pain she’s long carried, or Parimal freeing his daughter-in-law from the quiet burden of caregiving. There’s even a funny moment where Pankaj Tripathi’s Monty calls out Ali’s Faizal’s Akash as “Guddu” and Imtiaz Ali, Basu shows up in a cameo, it’s cheeky, and it reminds you why you enjoy this kind of cinema in the first place. It’s not perfect, but it’s somehow personal with each character arc leaving you quietly numb. 

They almost make up for the film not becoming what it could have been. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe Metro In Dino is imperfectly perfect! And you buy into the sentiment, the "propaganda of love," because maybe this is what romance looks like in our times (in dino). Because for a generation that expresses emotions through emojis, jokes through memes, and feelings through songs, isn’t a slightly messy, musical modern day tale of love the right fit? Sure, the payoffs aren’t always satisfying and some arcs feel undercooked. But still the film delivers a pleasant, sometimes poignant ride. And on the scale of having a cinematic good time, Metro In Dino scores high. Maybe that’s what we need right now, even if it feels like settling for less!

Metro In Dino is currently running in cinemas now!

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