There are two kinds of movies. The ones that start off with a classy premise, and somewhere down the line, careen into a load of claptrap. And there are movies born into the trash genre, yet slowly and inconspicuously climb their way up into a certain offbeat stylishness. It is this second kind to which Aksar belongs, thankfully.
Aksar was obviously conceptualized as the next in the sequence of movies that began with Murder. Emraan Hashmi, an unhappy wife, an inscrutable husband, a string of wet smooches – you know the works. The brittle and flaky story holding it all toge....