cast – Trupti Dimri, Rahul Bose, Avinash Tiwari, Parambrata Chattopadhyay, Paoli Gama
Over-directed but underrated, Bulbul is a visually impaired film that is shunned by a weak script.
From debut cant director Anvita Dutt (whose track record as a dialogue writer includes not only the runway hit Queen, but also Shaandaar, Kambakht Ishq and Housefull), Netflix’s Bulbul is the second streaming film of the month, featuring Amazon’s Gulabo Sitabo Is after, which is set inside the foreboding mansion. But when the dignified ‘Haveli’ in Shoojit Sircar’s film kills his life, one of Bulbul, like the film, cannot help but feel artificial.
As an industry, Bollywood has been famous for producing good horror cinema, with odd exceptions, certainly. In fact, horror in India is paired with other genres such as music or romance – ghosts, which, you see, should not suit the box office potential of films. So for Bulbul wholeheartedly embracing its gothic horror origins – it’s the palace of Kamal Amrohi through Guillermo del Toro’s Crimson Peak – is rather refreshing.
In 1881, a girl named Bulbul, starved of horror stories, is married into a wealthy ‘zamindar’ family. In a deep move it is revealed that her husband is not the boy Satya, with whom she has formed a quick friendship, but rather Satya’s sinful-looking elder brother Indranil, Thakur, played by Rahul Bose. Thakur has a twin Mahendra, who is challenged by Vikas and is married to a woman named Binodini. Destiny forever sentenced her to play second Bella for Bulbul in the house, who is deeply upset by Binodini, the ‘little daughter-in-law’.
Established characters jump 20 years into films in the future. Sathya, returning to ‘Haveli’ after studying law in London, is informed that a series of mysterious deaths have occurred at a time when he has been away. The villagers believe that it is the work of a witch who hunts the surrounding forest. Satya, in Jonathan Hacker mode, dismisses the claims as stories of older wives.
But a lot has changed in the years that Satya has gone. His brother Mahendra is killed in his sleep, and his second brother, Thakur, has disappeared. Bulbul, meanwhile, is no longer the feisty girl he used to be; She has now fully embraced her life as the ‘Thakurine’ of the house, who stays on the seties all day, fed paan and sorbet, yet sheds a fickle and precarious self-reliant energy.
It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, but Bulbul certainly treats his audience as if this is the first film he has seen in his life.
Avinash Tiwari and Parambrata Chattopadhyay still from Netflix’s Bulbul.
Because the characters are so thinly written and the surprises are so careless that Dutt’s film is forced to rely more on technical details. For example, it was wonderful to explore the character of Binodini with more patience. He is an interesting foil for Bulbul; Entangled rather than self-reliant, empowering.
Due to the red glow of a blood moon, the nightly scenes at Bulbul are undeniably gorgeous, apart from a couple of noticeable examples where cinematographer Siddharth Dewan’s camera basically breaks the character, and Charming handmade records its otherwise presence in favor of mayhem. It simply does not gel. You will also notice it.
Bulbul also features a lush, orchestral score by the great Amit Trivedi, which evokes memories of his brilliant (but if sincere works) in Vikramaditya Motwane’s Marauder. In a way, there is a tension of melancholy that runs through both films, and Trivedi is able to capture it.
But employing an unnecessarily non-linear narrative becomes an exercise in futility, as almost every turn can be seen coming from a mile away. And because the film is so deliberately planned, Dutt regularly finds himself drowning in style more than substance, his script devoid of effortlessness.
Rahul Bose still from Netflix’s Bulbul.
Some scenes involving violence against women in particular are portrayed suspiciously. Instead of provoking anger, or even repulsion, by shooting the first scene in a stylistic slow-motion that shocks Zack Snyder into ecstasy, Dutt inevitably distracts the audience’s attention from that scary scene. Who is revealing her and in turn turns her towards her impeccable beauty. Frame. The second scene, involving a rape, lasts longer along the way, as there is no reason for it. It plays into the (problematic) trope that in order to bloom, a woman must first (violently) break up. There is a reason why the rape-revenge subjugation of horror is considered outdated.
By knight reviews
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