Grihapravesh

Grihapravesh is a film that demands stillness from its viewers, and in return, it gives revelation. It asks us to sit with Titli to truly sit with her pain, her endurance, her smallest joys. The film's power lies not in plot twists or loud declarations, but in its emotional texture. The way Titli looks at a lit diya, or how she listens when Megh speaks of distant lands, carries more weight than a thousand dialogues. Grihapravesh is a film that demands stillness from its viewers, and in return, This is a story not about what happens, but about what shifts slowly, quietly, within. And that shift, from silence to self-awareness, is revolutionary in its own quiet right.

Every element of Grihapravesh from the cinematography to the music to the performances works together to wrap the viewer in a world where emotion is felt in the quietest moments. Titli, played with astonishing restraint and depth, is the soul of the film. Her arc is internal, but seismic. She begins as a shadow of herself, defined by absence and duty. But as the days pass, and as the world enters her home through Megh, we see a flicker of fire return to her gaze. Every element of Grihapravesh from the cinematography Her transformation is not into someone new but into the person she was always meant to be.

Right off the bat... this movie was an amazing tribute to legend Ritu Da. It embodies the tropes from classic Rituporno Ghosh's films, mainly Utsab that comes to mind (though on a smaller cast scale).

The film revolves around a situation that acts as a red herring to what happens in the end. The exposition of the film faces a few pitfalls but for most of its world building does a solid job. It maintains a good balance on what is being revealed to the audience and what is being hidden.

Coming to the technical aspects, In my opinion, the film found its cohesive footing in its second half. The first half film felt quite divided in the styles used for exposition of the characters of Titli and Megh. The scene of the emotional revelation felt by Titli is marred with unnecessary spoken exposition which can have been done in a subtler manner. This was contrasted by the very well acted out purely emotional exposition of Megh that happens simultaneously.

In the second half the way in which both the characters are depicted becomes more cohesive in an artistic and philosophical sense.

Coming to the cinematography, the hand held camera setting works for most of the movie but at times seems to act only as a nuisance and not allow the audience to focus on the major event of the scene.

The editing during the climax of the movie which included 6 camera cuts in under half minute felt to have cheapened the new emotional revelation felt by the characters and seemed like something one would see in a soap opera.

Now the lighting and color... this was handled amazingly well with the lighting changing with the emotions and the characters and how they felt. No complains here.

The place where I do have a complaint is the usage of the flashback scene during the conclusion of the movie seemed to just be there to work as a plot point. According to me, if it had been organically included into the flashbacks of the wedding scene before then it would have had a way higher emotional hit for the audience in the end.

Overall an amazing performance by Jeetu Kamal, Shubhosree, Kaushik Ganguly, Sohini Sengupta and of course Rudranil Ghosh. An amazing direction by Indradip Dasgupto too.

Over all I would give it a 7/10. The only this that is pulling me back from giving a 9 is the non-cohesive first half, haphazard camera editing in the climax and the seemingly forced up flashback in the end.

To end... Jekhane Acho, Bhalo Theko Ritu Da.

Indradip Dasgupta's fifth feature film as a director is marketed as a tribute to the body of work of filmmaker Rituparno Ghosh. The plot points, characters, the chamber drama setup revolving around a woman soaked in melancholy quiet evidently tries to honor the auteur's legacy.

The first thing which hinders the film from being a proper fitting to the legacy of Rituparno's work is the absence of nuance, the complex but intrusive characterization. The film deals with the melancholy of woman left alone after marriage, which invites an ideal premise to explore grief and longing, but we are served with just dialogues, with which the primary exposition of the characters are conveyed to the audience. The dialogues reveal quiet bluntly the emotional state of the characters within the first half of the film which is unexpected and disappointing from a film paying tribute to the auteur.

The rich visual aesthetics shows promise throughout, as Pradip Mukherjee shoots with an unparallel lyricism. The house becomes a character, an undeniable silent witness to the boiling sense of loneliness each and every character is suffering from. The walls, the murals, preparation for the upcoming Durga Puja everything looks heavenly and sometimes eclipses the lack of subtleness in other departments.

The film also captures Subhasree Ganguly (Titli, the lead protagonist) at her finest, be it the close ups, or be the silent moments where she is conveying through eyes only. She tries her best to articulate the most complex nuances which the script fails to churn out anywhere. With a sense of duty towards his in-laws , there is a certain realization in her character, that it is not only her suffering from loss but also her in-laws where someone has lost a son and someone a brother, she overcomes self-pity and with grace as she accepts the responsibility. All of this information although spoon fed to the audience, Subhasree still manages to bring a sense of genuineness to her portrayal.

The role of Meghdoot (Jeetu Kamal) is also mishandled. There are different shades which his character has but it is always shown from the perspective of the protagonist, we never get to feel for his longings, desires which was very much needed to where the film was headed especially at the climactic revelation. Owing to the sensible agenda, the film tries to convey, it is quite disappointing how it's dealt with.

The subplot with Rudranil Ghosh also gets lost into thin air after a certain point, which although was very generic could have been given a better closure, we are never shown his arc except one scene with Sohini Sengupta (her maternal aunt). It is quiet suprising to see an actor like Rudranil Ghosh being wasted into a half-baked character. The veterans (Sohini Sengupta,Kaushik Ganguly) stay true to their role and performs according to their skillset and amplifies the emotional subtext.

Jeetu Kamal looks graceful too, although not given much of a depth as his character demands for, there is a certain charm in his performance. There is a a scene which announces his arrival in the life of Titli(Subhasree),where the sudden gust of wind dismantles the alleys of Kolkata ,and there is a drone shot which shows his car advancing to Titli's home as a guest. It is very well made and a nod to the name his character has, 'Meghdoot' (which means rain, or one who sends message through clouds). The character also has a message to deliver, over all it is quite impressive how it plays with the name.

Indradip Dasgupta(director)is also a known music director, so he uses music as an instrument of storytelling in his films, but here the songs and the music both seems overburdened ,it doesn't add anything worth to the film.

The film running at a length of more than 2 and a half hours feels very much outstretched with redundant characters, unresolved subplots and an unnecessary cameo at the end which makes no sense.

It is a frustrating watch specifically for the premise it sets up, the potential it had with the characters .It is evident though,that Indardip Dasgupta has tried to invoke a sense of suppressed emotions ,but ends up doing a one dimensional narrative which never really hits the right spot despite Subhasree giving a superlative performance.

Few films manage to explore the intersection of memory, duty, and desire as delicately as Grihapravesh . Titli is a woman caught between the ghost of her past and the weight of her responsibilities, and the film allows us to feel every inch of that burden. Her connection with Megh is not about transgression it's about permission. Permission to remember, to imagine, to feel again. Even the briefest moment of shared laughter or understanding becomes a rebellion against the numbness. And by the end, Titli doesn't run or revolt she simply chooses to live a little more for herself. That quiet choice is the film's greatest triumph.