A Tale of Two Spirits: One Evil, One Boring
The horror genre has a proud tradition of exorcisms, hauntings, and the eternal struggle between good and evil. 1920 London, however, tells a different kind of story — one about the eternal struggle between a movie and its audience’s will to stay awake.
Directed by Tinu Suresh Desai, this third installment in the 1920 franchise promises supernatural thrills, Victorian-era style, and emotional depth. What it delivers instead is a supernatural snoozefest that’s equal parts melodrama and migraine. It’s the kind of horror film where the ghost seems less interested in scaring anyone and more interested in finding better representation.
If The Exorcist gave us pea soup, 1920 London gives us lukewarm masala chai — spilled, diluted, and reheated for the third time.
The Setup: Love, Revenge, and a Haunted Accessory
The film begins in jolly old London, circa 1920, but you wouldn’t know it. The city looks suspiciously like a Mumbai soundstage dressed in fake fog and regret. Princess Shivangi (Meera Chopra) lives there with her husband, Veer (Vishal Karwal), who one day receives a mysterious locket from India — because nothing says “bad omen” like unsolicited jewelry.
Within minutes, Veer starts convulsing, growling, and speaking in demonic tongues — which, to be fair, is also how most husbands react to unsolicited gifts. Doctors diagnose it as tetanus (because nothing screams “medical degree” like confusing Satan for rusty metal). When that doesn’t work, Shivangi’s handmaiden declares it black magic — and boom, the plot officially leaves the realm of science, logic, and basic storytelling.
Desperate, Shivangi returns to Rajasthan and seeks help from a tantrik, who promptly gets his spiritual butt handed to him by the ghost. He then tells her to find “Mewar Baba,” a man with a mysterious past and even more mysterious hairstyle.
Enter Jai Singh Gujjar (Sharman Joshi), Shivangi’s ex-lover and part-time exorcist, full-time brooder. Jai agrees to help, but only after enough dramatic pauses to fill an entire opera. What follows is a whirlwind of possession, betrayal, chanting, mirror dimensions, and the kind of CGI that would make a PlayStation 2 blush.
Performances: When Acting Becomes a Ghost Itself
Let’s start with Sharman Joshi, who seems to have wandered into this movie by accident. Known for his comedic timing and relatable charm (3 Idiots, anyone?), here he’s cast as a grim, vengeful exorcist. The result is… well, imagine your favorite stand-up comedian solemnly reciting Sanskrit incantations while glaring into middle distance. His attempts at intensity feel like someone reading ghost-hunting instructions off a cereal box.
Meera Chopra, as Shivangi, alternates between sobbing, shrieking, and staring at her husband like she’s regretting every career choice that led her here. Her emotional range is impressive — ranging all the way from “mild panic” to “crying elegantly.”
Vishal Karwal, playing the demonically possessed Veer, actually fares the best — probably because he spends most of the movie unconscious. He gets to writhe, growl, and occasionally vomit black goo, which makes him the only character with any personality.
Sushmita Mukherjee, as Kesar Maa, provides unintentional comic relief. Every time she mutters about “black magic,” you half expect her to sell herbal remedies out of her sari.
Direction: A Ghost Story Without Spirit
Tinu Suresh Desai directs the film with all the urgency of a man waiting for his Uber. The pacing is glacial, the scares are predictable, and the mood swings harder than a possessed pendulum. Every scene feels padded, as if the movie were afraid to let the credits roll before two full hours.
The scares rely heavily on jump cuts, loud music, and the time-honored Bollywood tradition of flickering lights. At one point, a mirror shatters in slow motion, accompanied by a scream so loud it could wake the dead — and yet, somehow, it fails to wake the audience.
The CGI ghost deserves special mention — not because it’s good, but because it looks like it escaped from a 2004 PowerPoint transition. There are moments when the spirit appears less terrifying than adorable, like a lost Pokémon looking for closure.
The Plot Thickens (Unfortunately)
As the film crawls along, we learn that Jai isn’t just an exorcist — he’s also the one who sent the cursed locket to Veer in the first place, as revenge against Shivangi for testifying against him years ago. Nothing says “closure” like international paranormal terrorism.
Of course, he later learns that Shivangi only did it to save his life, which turns his vengeance arc into an awkward apology tour. This twist is supposed to be emotional, but by the time it arrives, the audience’s primary emotion is confusion, followed closely by hunger.
There’s also an extended sequence where Jai enters another realm through a mirror — a scene that looks like a rejected music video from the early 2000s. Inside this “mirror world,” Jai fights the ghost with two knives and an overabundance of green-screen fog. If the afterlife looks like this, eternal damnation might just be preferable.
Cinematography: Gothic, But Make It Boring
The cinematography tries very hard to be atmospheric — dim lighting, old mansions, cobwebs, and the occasional colonial wallpaper that could qualify as a crime scene. Unfortunately, everything is so underlit that it’s hard to tell whether you’re watching a horror movie or an ad for energy-efficient bulbs.
The London scenes feel less like early 20th century England and more like a themed escape room that’s one malfunctioning prop away from closing permanently. Meanwhile, Rajasthan is portrayed in the usual “mystical desert” style — endless sand dunes, chanting monks, and the faint whiff of cultural stereotyping.
Music: The Real Jump Scare
The background score deserves a trophy — not for quality, but for sheer persistence. Every time a door creaks, the orchestra screams. Every time a shadow moves, a sitar explodes in terror. At one point, the soundtrack gets so aggressive that it feels like the composer is trying to exorcise the audience’s patience.
And then, because this is Bollywood, we get romantic songs. Nothing kills tension faster than a sudden love ballad between an exorcism and a possession. It’s like watching The Conjuring pause for a slow dance.
Themes: Revenge, Redemption, and Repetition
1920 London wants to be about redemption — a man confronting his demons (literally and figuratively) to save the woman who betrayed him. Instead, it becomes a recycling bin for clichés. Mirrors as portals? Check. Possessed husbands? Check. The “burn the locket” finale? Triple check.
Even the ghost’s motives are fuzzy. Why this couple? Why now? Why not possess someone with better lighting? The film never explains. It’s less a haunting and more a scheduling error.
Final Verdict: Cursed by Its Own Franchise
The biggest tragedy of 1920 London isn’t that it’s bad — it’s that it’s forgettable. The first 1920 at least tried to scare you. This one barely tries to stay awake.
It’s a film possessed not by evil, but by indifference. The story drags, the scares flop, and the only thing truly horrifying is realizing there’s a 1921 sequel waiting in the wings.
By the end, as Jai sacrifices himself in a blaze of melodrama, you can’t help but sympathize. If I were trapped in this movie, I’d offer my soul too.
Grade: D
Recommended for: People who think ghosts need relationship counseling, fans of haunted jewelry, and anyone curious about how long two hours can actually feel.
