'Metro… In Dino' Movie Review: Anurag Basu’s Musical Anthology Is Flawed but Full of Heart

Anurag Basu’s Metro… In Dino is less a sequel and more a spiritual remix of Life in a... Metro  not a continuation of the same stories, but of the same soul. Think of it as that reunion concert where the band shows up older, more confident, but also weighed down by the expectations of their last breakout gig.

It’s ambitious. Sometimes beautiful. Sometimes bloated. At 159 minutes, it’s the kind of film that tries to be a little bit of everything anthology, rom-com, modern-day musical, city symphony and ends up being both tender and tired.

You feel the Basu-Pritam DNA throughout — live bands in public spaces, moments of silence louder than monologues, heartbreak that looks like poetry and chaos that feels like theatre. The film moves like a vibe: not always fast, not always focused, but somehow still flowing.

There’s love. Lots of it. The young, messy kind. The jaded, suburban kind. The married-but-not-together kind. The “I could’ve been someone else if you had just asked” kind. And woven into it all is that quiet, aching question we rarely ask out loud: Are we just performing life the way we’ve seen it done before?

The ensemble cast is loaded, and thankfully, they mostly commit to Basu’s heightened-reality pitch. Sara Ali Khan plays loud, but occasionally lands soft. Ali Fazal brings his inner sadboi. Aditya Roy Kapur stays in his dependable “emotionally unavailable but sexy” zone. But it’s Konkona Sen Sharma no surprises who lifts the whole tone with a single look, like she’s acting in a better movie nested inside this one.

Now here’s the truth. The first half charms. The second half… doesn’t. What starts off feeling clever and fresh slowly begins to loop, as if the film knows what it wants to say but not how to finish saying it. You’re left watching moments some brilliant, some just... there.

And the music? It’s good. But not immortal. The Metro (2007) soundtrack was a moment. This one, while pleasant and contextually effective, doesn’t hit that standalone repeat-worthy level. It’s more montage fuel than memory-maker.

What Metro… In Dino does do well is this: every once in a while, it hits that note. That one note that cuts through all the noise and reminds you why we show up to the movies for that electric riff under an emotional slap, or that silent glance that says too much, or a moment of someone choosing discomfort over quiet resignation. And when that happens, you sit up. You feel. You remember.

In the end, this isn’t a film about cities or metros. It’s about the people moving through them restless, unresolved, and relentlessly hopeful. Even if it doesn’t all come together, there’s something kind of brave in that.

Verdict: Watch it if you’re patient with films that meander, but reward. Don’t watch it expecting clean arcs or TikTok-sized catharsis. Watch it for the vibe. And maybe — just maybe for that one fleeting moment where the story catches up to the song.