Netflix’s recently premiered film, Baramulla, is a difficult watch to categorize, blending elements of mystery, horror, and profound emotional drama within the snow-covered valleys of Kashmir. Written and produced by Aditya Dhar and directed by Aditya Suhas Jambhale, the film strives to create an atmosphere where historical trauma and supernatural occurrences converge. This ambitious scope, however, sometimes leads to a narrative that feels both rich and disjointed.
The story centers on DSP Ridwan Sayeed, portrayed by Manav Kaul, who arrives in Baramulla to investigate a series of child disappearances. He moves into an old house with his wife Gulnar, played by Bhasha Sumbli, and their children. Soon, the family experiences strange phenomena, from disembodied voices to shifting shadows, while the children’s behavior grows increasingly erratic. As Ridwan delves into his professional investigation, his family grapples with an unseen terror within their new home, slowly uncovering secrets that refuse to remain buried.
From a technical standpoint, Baramulla truly shines, particularly in its atmospheric construction. The breathtaking beauty of Kashmir, with its pristine snow, profound silence, and misty landscapes, is captured with remarkable cinematography. The film’s editing is equally impressive, especially in the climax, where it seamlessly weaves together past and present events to create a powerful, albeit sometimes dark, visual experience. This technical prowess ensures viewers remain immersed, even as multiple narrative threads unfold simultaneously.
The performances elevate the film significantly. Manav Kaul embodies DSP Ridwan Sayeed with a compelling blend of police officer rigidity and human vulnerability, his facial expressions conveying a quiet unease. Bhasha Sumbli delivers a performance filled with truth and emotion as Gulnar, portraying a character who is both fearful and resilient. The depth they bring to their roles anchors the film, while the supporting cast also contributes solid, honest work, enhancing the overall mood and narrative strength.
Despite these strengths, Baramulla struggles under the weight of its own ambition. Director Aditya Suhas Jambhale attempts to connect the historical pain of Kashmiri Pandits, supernatural occurrences, the impact of terrorism, and the theme of child indoctrination. While each of these elements is intriguing, they do not always coalesce into a fully coherent whole. The film often feels as if it has too much to say, without finding a perfectly clear voice for each message. For instance, the implicit message about the presence of both good and bad within any community, though well-intentioned, lacks the clarity needed to resonate deeply.
Furthermore, certain character arcs, such as Ridwan’s personal story with his family and daughter, feel underdeveloped and rushed, diminishing their emotional impact. The direction, while honest and sensitive, builds its atmosphere slowly in the first half, which may not immediately captivate all viewers. This deliberate pacing, combined with a somewhat convoluted script, occasionally makes the story challenging to follow early on.
Ultimately, Baramulla is an uneven yet thought-provoking cinematic offering. It features genuinely touching scenes, particularly those where the past and present intertwine, adding significant emotional resonance. However, the screenplay’s weaknesses, including narrative confusion and inconsistent pacing, prevent it from achieving its full potential. With strong acting, superb cinematography, and impactful editing, the film encourages contemplation rather than pure fright. It stands as a commendable effort, though its narrative scope sometimes overwhelms its execution, earning it a rating of 3 out of 5 stars.