From Hera-pheri to Hara-kiri!

From Hera-pheri to Hara-kiri : My quick take on Priyadarshan’s “Bhoot Bangla” (Theatrical release)

Somewhere in the glorious archive of Priyadarshan, between the anarchic genius of Hera Pheri, the delightful chaos of Hungama, and the unhinged brilliance of Malamaal Weekly, lives a filmmaker who knew exactly how to make audiences howl.

That man, one suspects, has been locked inside a haunted bungalow… while his doppelgänger directed Bhoot Bangla.

Let’s be honest. This isn’t a horror-comedy.

It’s a comical horror.

The horror is not on screen.

The scariest thing in this film is the runtime.

Even the ghost would leave halfway.

In fact, the so-called “horror-comedy” quietly mutates into a suspense film… not because of twists, but because the audience keeps searching.

Searching for horror.

Searching for comedy.

Finding neither.

Akshay Kumar returns after 14 years with the relaxed confidence of a man who knows the poster is already printed. He mugs, he tumbles, he screams like the co-actors are on mute, and widens his eyes like he’s just discovered Wi-Fi. It works… occasionally. Mostly because he’s trying harder than the script.

Paresh Rawal plays a man named Jagdish Manikchand Roopkamal Kewalramani… which is less a character name and more a cry for help. At one point his backside is on fire so often, NASA could’ve used him for propulsion testing.

Rajpal Yadav screams. Asrani exists. Manoj Joshi emotes.

These are not performances. These are sightings.

And then there is Tabu.

A performer who can do more with silence than most can do with monologues… reduced here to what feels like an “item performance,” except the item is wasted potential. She appears, reminds you what acting looks like, and exits before the film can learn from her.

Tabu in this film is like saffron in bad biryani…

present, precious, and tragically wasted.

The first half? Attempted humor.

For about 80 minutes, the old Priyadarshan rhythm flickers back. Chaos, confusion, timing… you chuckle, you relax, you think, “We’re back.”

Then the second half arrives.

With mythology.

And explanations.

Lots of explanations.

The plot, allegedly inspired by the Mahabharat, unfolds with the speed of a government file. The VFX looks like it escaped from a demo reel, including a sequence that feels like a low-budget Batman audition. The climax stretches so long it starts asking you philosophical questions about your life choices.

After Bhool Bhulaiyaa, returning to the same haunted aesthetic feels less like homage and more like habit. Same echoes, same energy… minus the spark that made it iconic.

This so called horror film will haunt many.

The director… wondering, “Why did I make this?”

The audience… wondering, “Why did I watch this?”

And more painfully, “Why did I pay for this?”

Even the ‘bhoots’ might file a defamation case.

Because after this, “haunted” has a reputation problem.

Somewhere, in the afterlife of Indian comedy, the ghosts of Hera Pheri and Hungama are watching this…

…and asking for a refund.