Metro... In Dino Review: It's a Musical Love Letter to the Lost, the Lonely, and the Longing

Love, Betrayal & Life — Four Stories, One City-Soul

At its core, the film is structured like a city map — interconnected metro lives, strangers on different platforms, all bound by invisible strings. The screenplay is smart and seamless, never confusing despite the layered threads. Here’s how the lives unravel:

Parth & Chumki (Aditya Roy Kapur & Sara Ali Khan)

The film opens with a bang, a classic meet-cute between a drifter and a confused Gen Z girl. Parth, the charming travel influencer with a "fuck boy" aura, meets Chumki, who is engaged to Anand (Kush Jotwani) but questioning everything. Their scenes are quirky, modern, full of hesitation, laughter, and sexual tension. Chumki's dilemma, between a stable fiancé and an unstable heart-throb, feels real, especially in today's dating culture filled with emotional phobias and commitment anxiety. You root for her, even when she yells or spirals. Sara plays the confused-yet-fiery girl well, and Aditya — with a Bunny-from-YJHD hangover — still charms the screen.

Akash & Shruti (Ali Fazal & Fatima Sana Shaikh)

This couple hits the hardest. Married young, riding high on passion, they now stand on the rocks of adulthood. Akash and Shruti’s tale is far more sobering. Married young, high on romance and rebellion, their idealism is now bruised by the weight of rent, expectations, and unpaid dreams. He was a passionate singer. Now he crunches numbers in a corporate office to make ends meet. She’s pregnant, not with joy, but with doubt. How do you raise a child with someone who isn’t sure of himself? How do you bridge the gap when the cities between you aren’t as wide as the silence in your bed? Their long-distance struggle is intimate and unsettling. Ali Fazal is heartbreaking as Akash- each gesture heavy with dreams he buried under job security. Fatima Sana Shaikh plays Shruti with quiet strength and a gaze that can slice through steel. They argue. They cry. They almost give up.

Kajol & Monty (Konkona Sen Sharma & Pankaj Tripathi)

This is the story. The one that stays. Middle-aged monotony, the silent fatigue of marriage, and the ridiculousness of modern-day temptations, all delivered with punchy humour and aching honesty. Monty downloads Linger (Tinder, with a twist) and ends up matching with his own wife. What follows is both hilarious and tragic. Their flirty chats, midlife crises, Kajol's sass and Monty's cluelessness, it's a riot. But it's also deeply reflective of today's social boredom, emotional infidelity, and the quiet cry for excitement. Konkona is magnetic, and Pankaj- oh, the man glows. Literally. He's funny, fierce, flawed and fabulous. Their journey, filled with flirty banter, betrayal, and a hilarious series of misadventures, is also a poignant reflection on what happens to desire after a decade of togetherness. And yet, amidst all the comedy, the film never mocks their love.

Shibani & Parimal (Neena Gupta & Anupam Kher)

Enter nostalgia. Shibani, in a broken marriage with Saswata Chatterjee's character, escapes to Kolkata to meet her old flame Parimal (Anupam). What unfolds is a warm, wistful reunion. They laugh, they reflect, they relive, and they redefine love, even if just for four days. This track is mature, honest and soaked in emotion. Neena Gupta is radiant, and her chemistry with Anupam is old-school in the best way. There's also the meta layer, Shibani is Kajol and Chumki's mother, which adds another layer to the generational love lens.

Connections that Feel Organic

Unlike many hyperlink films where the interconnections feel forced, Basu's world makes them feel like destiny. A shared terrace, a friend's wedding, a city's coincidence, people walk in and out of each other's lives just like real metros. Sometimes they bump into each other. Sometimes they leave a mark. That's where Basu's direction shines, he keeps it subtle, not screaming "Look! We connected them!" Even the cameos, from known directors, feel like surprises sprinkled throughout. They don't steal the show; they sweeten it.

At first glance, Metro... In Dino may seem like it's talking about the "now" situationships, Tinder, job switches, long distance, sex in the open. But dig deeper, and it becomes clear: nothing is new. Just the vocabulary has changed. The core emotions, loneliness, desire, guilt, fear, joy are timeless. Whether it's commitment phobia or extramarital temptations, the film doesn't preach. It presents. And that's why it stays.

Themes That Linger

Technically, the film is slick. The editing ensures we're never lost, even as the stories leap from city to city. The screenplay is tight, never meandering. The cinematography captures metros like breathing beings warm lights, busy rooftops, lonely balconies, familiar traffic, and bustling trains. The first half is more rooted in realism; it feels like you're peeking into lives. The second half leans a little more into Bollywood tropes heightened drama, filmy turns, but it still works. In fact, it lifts the emotional payoff. And Basu, the man who gave us Barfi! and Jagga Jasoos, brings his signature blend of whimsy, music, melancholy, and humour. You smile. You ache. You hum. You remember. The guitars are back on the roofs, the singers on terraces, strumming chords of longing, and for the first time in years, it feels earned. You don’t mind that the characters break into song, you almost expect them to, because talking would be inadequate.

The Musical That Feels Like One

Let's say this right at the start: Metro... In Dino is a musical in the truest sense. No gimmicks, no forced dance numbers, just characters who let songs carry their emotions when words fall short. Pritam, the maestro, returns with his team of lyricists and singers, and together they gift us a soundtrack that's less album, more heartbeat.

You've got "Zamaana Lage" (Arijit Singh, Shashwat Singh), which starts off the narrative like a pulse awakening the city. "Dil Ka Kya" (Raghav Chaitanya) breaks your heart softly, "Aur Mohabbat Kitni Karoon" (Arijit, again, in peak form) questions the limits of love, and "Yaad" (Papon) is pure goosebumps, melancholic, moody, and masterful.

Each song is an emotional extension of the character singing it, not just a musical break but a narrative tool. They sing, but you don't roll your eyes. You lean in. You feel more.