Aamar Boss

While watching Aamar Boss with my family specially my mom ,I feel like i am watching my own life play out on screen-during work we got phone calls from home for some reasons, plus in corporate world we have tremendous work pressure. Gradually we forget to live our live..If I talk about the film then Rakhee Gulzar's is the soul of the film, reminding us that even the most structured spaces need emotional anchors. We will get nostalgia, realism, and a quiet rebellion in her presence. Shiboprosad's Mukherjee is brulliant in his character-flawed yet relatable. This is not just a film it is more than that..

Aamar Boss film-it's a soft nudge at our hardened lives. In our materialistic life where workplace and home feel like two opposite things, this film is trying to build a bridge between these two things. Shiboprosad Mukherjee and Nandita Roy beautifully capture the invisible thread between duty and emotion. Rakhee Gulzar's return adds vintage gravitas, and the bonding between these two leading characters are amazingly beautiful. The office scenes strike a rare balance between satire and sincerity. By the end, you keep thinking-who the real boss is actually??A rare, reflective piece of cinema. A must watch film.

*"Amar Boss" Review: A Heartwarming Tribute to the Parent-Child Bond*

Streaming on ZEE5, "Amar Boss" is a beautiful family drama that celebrates the unsung bond between parents and children. The film explores the complexities of relationships, aging, and corporate responsibilities, highlighting the importance of empathy and understanding in the workplace.

The film narrates that your staff,s parent must see where their children are working and feel proud. I know one corporate house in Bangalore, once in a year give chance to parents and family members to enjoy the hospitality of the workplace of their children.

Rakhee Gulzar shines as Shubhra, a determined and empathetic mother who brings about a positive change in her son's workplace. Her outstanding performance is a testament to her talent and dedication.

The film's narrative is both heartwarming and thought-provoking, showcasing the importance of caring for aging parents, work-life balance, and emotional connection in personal and professional relationships. The movie's portrayal of Corporate Social Responsibility is particularly noteworthy, highlighting the need for genuine concern and support for employees' families.

The film's message about promoting a sense of community and support in the workplace is especially relevant in today's fast-paced corporate world. The idea of introducing a day-care center for elderly parents of employees is a wonderful example of this.

I didn't expect this from you, Nandita and Shivprasad. The movie is undoubtedly good. Despite some flaws, it has done a good job in terms of emotion. But what is the point of showing unnecessary sexual scenes!? You are making a family movie to watch with family members, so it would be better if there were no unnecessary sexual scenes. We watch this movie with everyone at home, including children and adults. So when a family movie suddenly has a sexual scene, everyone feels uncomfortable, even if it is so unnecessary. Do you think that sex has to be shown in a movie to show love? Besides, love cannot be expressed?

Now I can give you this advice: either make a completely commercial movie where no one cares if you show this sex, or if you make a family movie, keep sex as far away from it as possible. Don't mix the two and make a mess.

And that's it. After that, I won't watch your movies with my family anymore. I also lost the desire to watch it separately. But if I ever see that you have solved this problem, then I will see. If this unnecessary scene wasn't there, I would have given a 7 or 8 rating.

( Apnader theke eirokom asa korini Nondita o Shivprasad. Cinemati nissandhya bhalo. Kichu khamti thakleo emotioner jaigai bhalo kaj koreche. Kintu ohetuk sexual scene dekhanor mane ki!?

Apnara parivarik cinema banachen poribarer lokeder sathe dikhar janya, to sekhane ohetuk sexual scene na dhukalei bhalo hoto.

When I walked into the theatre to watch Amar Boss, I expected a typical Bengali workplace drama - perhaps some office politics, a charismatic leader, and a bit of humour. What I got instead was an unexpectedly touching journey that blurred the lines between the professional and the deeply personal, making me reflect on the nature of leadership, loyalty, and love in everyday life.

From the very first scene, I was drawn in by the quiet power of the narrative. The story revolves around our boss - not the conventional tyrant or the eccentric genius - but someone far more complex. Mr. Sen (whom we lovingly call "Boss") is a man of few words but endless integrity. Through the eyes of his junior colleague and narrator, we are invited into a seemingly ordinary office where extraordinary bonds are formed under the surface of daily deadlines and deliverables.

What struck me most was how real everything felt. The characters weren't idealised; they were flawed, vulnerable, and deeply human. The protagonist - the narrator - reminded me so much of myself in my early working years: unsure, eager to please, constantly trying to decode the enigma that was the Boss. And yet, as the story unfolded, I found myself understanding the Boss not just through his actions, but through the silences he left behind. His quiet care, his protective instincts, the way he bore the weight of his team's burdens without asking for acknowledgment - these were the marks of true leadership.

There's a turning point in the film - I won't give away too much - when the Boss's personal life starts to seep into the professional sphere. That moment shattered me. It reminded me that the people we work with are not just designations or departments; they carry entire worlds within them. The way the team, especially the narrator, responds to this crisis is one of the most moving portrayals of collective empathy I've seen in Bengali cinema in recent years.

Visually, the film is understated but effective. The cinematography avoids dramatics and instead relies on tight frames and subtle lighting to echo the emotional tone of each scene. The music is minimal, allowing silences to speak - and they speak volumes. The performances are uniformly strong, with the actor playing the Boss delivering a masterclass in restraint. His eyes, in particular, do most of the talking - often revealing sorrow, pride, or affection that words would've cheapened.

What truly lingers with me is the way Amar Boss celebrates the unsung - those who lead without loud declarations, those who nurture rather than command. The final scenes had me teary-eyed, not because they were tragic, but because they were filled with a quiet dignity that's all too rare in our chaotic world. It made me think of people in my own life - teachers, mentors, even older colleagues - who shaped me in ways I only realised much later.

Walking out of the theatre, I felt strangely full - not just entertained, but seen. Amar Boss isn't just a film; it's a tribute to the silent strength that holds teams, families, and societies together. And in telling that story, it reminded me why I fell in love with cinema in the first place.