Film: Bhooth Bangla
Cast: Akshay Kumar, Paresh Rawal
Directed by: Priyadarshan
Duration: 2 hours 54 minutes
Rating: *
Priyadarshan's Bhooth Bangla opens with a disclaimer stating that it doesn't promote superstition-a sensible inclusion on paper. But over its nearly three-hour runtime, the film seems to do the exact opposite. From chants that supposedly ward off demons (and, when played in reverse, conveniently summon them-more on that backmasking later) to bizarre attempts at linking quantum physics with the 'aatma' (soul), the narrative is packed with so much mumbo-jumbo it could fill a tanker crossing the Hormuz.
The film is pitched as a horror-comedy, a genre that demands precision. When mishandled-as it is here-it ends up being neither scary nor funny. Horror-comedy is serious business, but the writing treats it casually. The gags range from mildly amusing to outright crude, including a literal toilet joke. In one scene, a man notices steam rising from a commode. A normal reaction might be curiosity or concern; instead, he chooses to sit on it, only to be blasted upward by boiling water. That's the world of Bhooth Bangla-where no character behaves like a normal human being.
By the end, I found myself half-jokingly ready to say a prayer, hoping for rescue.
The film opens with a flashback at Mangalpur railway station, a place ominously associated with disappearing brides. A bride in red falling prey to an evil force evoked memory of Jaani Dushman (1979), which, despite its excesses, was far more effective. Here, a wedding party is attacked, chaos ensues, and-predictably-the bride flees down the most deserted road possible.
From Mangalpur, the story shifts to London. One might expect a change in tone or some grounding in logic because of the change in continents but that hope is short-lived. Arjun (Akshay Kumar) is an unemployed, not-so-young man living off his father's (Jisshu Sengupta) wealth. His sister (Mithila Palkar) has found her soulmate, but their marriage is stalled by the usual cinematic hurdles-auspicious timings, vaastu concerns, and general indecision.
While the father is away in Sydney delivering lectures that awkwardly merge quantum physics with spirituality, Arjun is suddenly summoned to North India by a lawyer informing him of a grand inheritance: a palace, no less - just what a jobless man needs. The palace, unsurprisingly, is dilapidated and haunted, with a bat-like creature appearing only at night-much like Dracula, it seems to have an aversion to light. When a holy man visits he says, "Yahan kuch galat ho raha hain, mujhe guruji ko batana padega" (There is something fishy here, I have to inform my teacher).
Along with Dhurandhar 2, this is the second time in so many months we see a head separating from the torso. The 'comedy'-mostly chaotic noise-comes via a wedding planner (Paresh Rawal) and his nephew (Rajpal Yadav), with the former featuring in the infamous toilet scene. Wamiqa Gabbi plays a writer researching ancient Indian temples, which leads her to Mangalpur and the legend of Vadhusur, the resident demon.
Vadhusur, we're told, was once contained by Arjun's grandfather using recorded chants played on a machine that conveniently includes both "forward" and "reverse" levers -fully aware, of course, that reversing the chants will unleash the demon. It's a premise that relies heavily on the absence of basic logic, something none of the characters seem to possess.
If there's any unintended takeaway from all this chaos, it's a curious visual pattern: every time the demon appears, strong winds begin to blow. Perhaps, unintentionally, the film's most coherent idea is that the demon serves as a metaphor for climate change.