RuchiraChoudhury

Birangana just dropped on Hoichoi today-and I binged it right away. Here's my unfiltered take:

Right from the opening scene, Birangana hits you with this eerie hush over a wedding venue where a fresh bride lies lifeless in the rain. The visuals are gritty, raw and frankly hypnotic-like something you're forced to watch even when it scares you.

Sandipta Sen as SI Chitra Basu? Absolute fire. She's out there in a no-makeup, no-glam showdown, navigating a male-dominated police setup, clenched jaw, eyes burning with resolve-never seen her like this before. It's her first time playing a cop and she throws herself into it, both physically and emotionally. You feel her fight every step of the way-not just chasing killers, but battling systemic patriarchy.

Then there's Niranjan Mondal aka Laughtersane, making his acting debut as Chirayu Talukdar, the soft-spoken florist who somehow just knows things. His stillness is haunting-simple quiet presence that messes with your nerves, because you keep wondering "What is he hiding?" The trailer even got fans guessing if he's the killer behind the serial bride murders or part of something bigger.

Plot-wise, it's a gripping combination of how-dunit and why-dunit. Chitra's investigating these married women's deaths that authorities had chalked up as suicides. But she isn't buying it-she senses a pattern, a twisted ritual-and digs deeper. Every clue she unearths feels tight-rope suspense. When the day-to-day grind of investigation transitions to midnight interrogations and chase sequences, the tension ratchets up sharply.

The director is clearly back in his crime-thriller zone after a few other hits, and Birangana seems to complete a sort of hat-trick of gritty female-led suspense thrillers. His style sprawls between moody atmosphere, shadowy frames, and emotional punches. You feel the weight of Kolkata as much as the weight of Chitra's uniform.

Supporting cast like Anirban Bhattacharya, Pratik Dutta, Aditya Sengupta, and Sreya Bhattacharyya-they're all layered in the background, giving density to the cops, suspects, and street life in the city. It never felt like filler-they add believable life to the world around Chitra.

Watching it today, I felt emotionally raw-there were confronting scenes of trauma, street-level sexism, and grief. Yet the way it's shot kept me hooked: long takes, close-ups that hold on emotion, rain-drenched alleys, the grim silence of funeral pyres. The pacing is tight-just enough build-up, just enough reveal. But at times a scene felt stretched, like emotional beats dragged a bit too long. Could've tightened episode two a bit more.

Still, as someone who craves Bengali OTT content with depth and guts-Birangana delivers. It flips the trope of damsel-in-distress on its head: here's a cop refusing to back down, refusing to shrink. And the killer's identity? Oh man, the finale hit me with chills. I won't spoil it. But you definitely don't see some twists coming.

Overall, I'm impressed. It's raw, edgy, feminist without being loud, grounded in Kolkata's underbelly, and powered by Sandipta's charged performance. Laughtersane surprises you with quiet menace. The direction knows how to build suspense and dive into power structures. It's not perfect-some pacing issues here and there-but on balance it's a gripping, female-led, socially conscious thriller like we don't often see in Bengali OTT.

If you've got Hoichoi, drop everything and start Birangana. It's the kind of show that stays with you beyond the screen-makes you think about who speaks, who's silenced, and who has the courage to dig. And that scream-silence-anger mix Sandipta brings? Next level.

I walked into Grihapravesh expecting a straightforward Bengali family drama. What unfolded instead was a slow-burning exploration of love, longing, and hidden identity-all set within the four walls of a fading Calcutta mansion. It begins with Titli (Subhashree Ganguly) left alone after her husband vanishes. The house, full of shadows and unspoken memories, becomes a mirror to her own emotional desolation.

Subhashree Ganguly as Titli absolutely anchors the film. Without melodrama, she portrays heartbreak, resilience, and a subtle rebellion. A single scene-her arranging a Puja altar, catching her reflection-brought tears to my eyes. She's the film's emotional heartbeat.

Then enters Jeetu Kamal (Megh), a photographer-guest who doesn't disrupt with dramatic flair, but with a quiet warmth. He and Titli share small moments-shared glances at a Puja pandal, a hesitant conversation, a lingering pause. Their chemistry, especially in the teaser song "Meghpeon", is palpable. As Jeetu says, "It's hard to take my eyes off Subhashree!" His presence realigns Titli's world, opening her up to a different kind of feeling.

Kaushik Ganguly, as Titli's aging father-in-law, delivers one of the film's most underrated performances. He's paternal without being patronizing, sympathetic without being a stereotype. You don't cheer for him, but you root for his attempts to help Titli heal through creating a homestay.

The song "Meghpeon" acts as a pivotal bridge-an emotionally textured sequence that distills their growing connection. It's not a dance number; it's more like a charged moment of emotional release. Jeetu's very public praise of Subhashree's performance in its promo alone speaks volumes .

Song-wise, that's the one we experience directly. The rest of the film leans heavily on ambiance and silence, supported by Indraadip Dasgupta's atmospheric score. His use of muted strings and soft piano subtly underscores emotional crescendos and silences. While we don't see a full soundtrack album or musical montage, the music-and especially Meghpeon-carries the unvoiced feelings between characters beautifully.

Visually, the grandeur of the old mansion-its peeling walls, dusty lamps, flickering Puja lights-acts like a third character. Every frame feels like a slow sigh; every corridor, a place of longing. The cinematography breathes with the characters, amplifying their tension and hope.

What struck me most was how Grihapravesh portrays same-gender longing-not as sensationalism, but as an emotional truth. Titli's attraction to Megh isn't explosive; it's patient, conflicted, tender. It's more about recognition than confession. That subtlety makes it haunting.

But there's a deeper tension too-around societal expectations and identity. The film seems to imply traditional marriage can 'cure' same-gender desire, which some critics have pointed out as reductive. It raises important questions: can a marriage be both home and prison? Does Grihapravesh explore or simplify these complexities? It left me reflecting more on societal scripts than the film itself.

By the final scene, Puja lights fade and the house stands still. I sat in the theater with a knot in my chest-not because I was sad, but because I felt like I'd witnessed something quiet and urgent. This isn't a film that solves anything; it's one that sees us-and lets us sit with what we can't say.

Bottom line: Grihapravesh is not an easy watch-it's slow, introspective, quietly intense. But its power lies in the performances. Subhashree's restrained strength, Jeetu's tender presence, and Kaushik's empathetic warmth make the emotional core resonate. And that single song, "Meghpeon," encapsulates an unsaid possibility. The film lingers like a memory you can't quite finish unpacking-and if you allow its silences, it speaks directly to what we conceal behind closed doors.

Returning to the big screen with his trademark wit and unassuming brilliance, Eken Babu-played to near perfection by Anirban Chakrabarti-takes us on another quirky, layered adventure in The Eken: Benaras e Bibhishika. This time, the beloved Bengali sleuth finds himself in the ancient and atmospheric city of Benaras, where a vacation quickly turns into a mysterious case involving theft, deceit, and a dangerous game of secrets.

At its heart, the film remains faithful to what fans love most about the Eken franchise: the light-hearted tone, the gentle humor, and Eken Babu's unorthodox methods of deduction. But what sets this installment apart is its location. Benaras is not just a backdrop here-it's a character in itself. The narrow gullies, the ghats drenched in history and myth, and the constant spiritual buzz of the city all come together to form a textured setting that enhances the mystery and gives the film a unique visual flavor.

The plot kicks off when Eken Babu, accompanied by his ever-curious friends Bapi and Pramatha, stumbles upon a suspicious theft connected to a priceless idol. What follows is a maze of clues, red herrings, and eccentric suspects. True to form, Eken Babu doesn't rush or dramatize. His strength lies in his seemingly simple yet razor-sharp observations. The film keeps you guessing, not through high-octane chases or dramatic twists, but through clever writing and the slow peeling back of layers.

Anirban Chakrabarti once again proves that he is Eken Babu. His performance is warm, witty, and deeply rooted in a sense of Bengali nostalgia. There's something profoundly comforting about his screen presence-almost like meeting an old friend who hasn't changed a bit, and that's a rare quality. He doesn't try to be the brooding, intense detective. He's cheerful, chatty, a little clumsy, and yet, always five steps ahead. This contrast is what makes the character work so well.

The supporting cast does a solid job. Suhotra Mukhopadhyay and Somak Ghosh, as Bapi and Pramatha, strike the right balance between comic relief and genuine curiosity. Their banter feels organic, never forced. The suspects and side characters-especially those rooted in the local Benarasi culture-are portrayed with flair, adding layers of complexity and color to the narrative.

Visually, the film is a treat. The cinematography captures both the chaos and serenity of Benaras. From misty morning shots at the ghats to busy market lanes lit with diyas and neon, the camera invites the viewer into the soul of the city. The background score complements the mood without overpowering it-quietly building suspense where needed, and adding a playful touch to Eken's lighter moments.

If there's one critique, it's that the pace dips slightly in the middle. Some scenes feel stretched, and the narrative could've benefited from tighter editing. But the finale picks up well, and the resolution, while not earth-shattering, is satisfying and clever in a very Eken Babu way.

In a world filled with dark, gritty detective thrillers, The Eken: Benaras e Bibhishika is refreshingly light yet intelligent. It doesn't scream for attention but earns it steadily, scene by scene. The film reinforces that suspense doesn't always need to be grim-sometimes, it can wear a smile, sip a cup of tea, and still surprise you.

For fans of Eken Babu, this film is a warm, familiar hug. For newcomers, it's a charming entry point into a detective universe unlike any other. Either way, it's worth the watch-especially if you enjoy mysteries that value character and charm just as much as crime and clues.