When the Ghosts Aren’t the Scariest Thing
There are horror films that chill you to the bone, and then there are films like Shob Bhooturey—which mostly chill your enthusiasm for cinema. Directed by Birsa Dasgupta, this 2017 Bengali-language horror drama is a strange brew of mystery, melodrama, and accidental comedy. The title translates to “Everything Is Paranormal,” which is appropriate, because nothing about this movie feels normal—not the plot, not the pacing, and definitely not the acting.
It’s the kind of film that makes you wonder if the ghosts were haunting the script instead of the characters.
The Plot That Refuses to Die (Much Like the Characters)
Our story follows Aniket Sen (Abir Chatterjee), a serious man who hates the supernatural almost as much as he hates coherent storytelling. His late father ran a magazine devoted to ghost stories and paranormal incidents—basically the Bengali X-Files if Mulder had a moustache and wrote in longhand.
Aniket, being a pragmatic soul, wants to shut the magazine down and start a business that doesn’t involve dead people. Unfortunately, he’s dragged back into the world of spooks when a village school starts experiencing supernatural shenanigans—doors slamming, whispers, ghostly giggles, and probably some unpaid electricity bills. The headmaster begs Aniket for help, because apparently ghostbusters are in short supply in rural Bengal.
Enter Nandini (Sohini Sarkar), a woman who can see ghosts and looks like she hasn’t slept since the British left India. She appears on the road like every horror cliché ever, announcing that she was sent by Aniket’s dead father. This should alarm Aniket, but he reacts like someone who’s just been told their train is delayed—mildly annoyed, slightly inconvenienced.
Ghost Whispering for Dummies
Nandini insists she’s on a mission from beyond the grave and even proves her legitimacy by revealing the location of Aniket’s father’s hidden will. This revelation makes Aniket reconsider—either she’s psychic, or the world’s nosiest trespasser.
He reluctantly teams up with her, along with Kripa Babu (Supriyo Dutta), the elderly editor of the ghost magazine, who adds comic relief in the way only a tired man surrounded by idiots can. Together, they form a supernatural Scooby-Doo gang—if Scooby was replaced by tax records and the Mystery Machine was a Tata hatchback.
The trio investigates the haunted village of Kushumpur, where creepy things keep happening at the local school. Six children died years ago in a roof collapse, and their ghosts now wander around doing what ghost kids do—playing, crying, and jump-scaring grown adults who should know better.
The mystery unfolds with all the suspense of a PowerPoint presentation. Every discovery feels telegraphed, every “twist” arrives an hour late, and every ghost looks like it took the day off from haunting to appear in this movie.
The Horror of Acting
Abir Chatterjee, normally a reliable actor, plays Aniket like he’s perpetually two scenes behind. His disbelief in ghosts is less “skeptical” and more “bored,” and his eventual acceptance of the supernatural feels like he just gave up arguing.
Sohini Sarkar as Nandini gives the film’s most memorable performance, though that’s not saying much. She alternates between wide-eyed mysticism and delivering exposition like she’s reading from a manual titled How to Be Vaguely Creepy in Ten Easy Steps. The script keeps her stuck between mystery and melodrama, leaving her as neither haunting nor human.
Supriyo Dutta, as the weary editor Kripa Babu, deserves hazard pay. He spends most of his screen time reacting to the nonsense around him with an expression that says, “I survived 30 years in this industry for this?”
The supporting cast—including the headmaster, the guilty builder Robin Babu, and a rotating cast of scared villagers—look appropriately terrified, though possibly not of ghosts.
The Jump Scares That Forgot to Jump
Shob Bhooturey bills itself as a horror drama, but the horror is mostly conceptual. The ghosts are less frightening than the editing. Most of the scares come from sudden loud noises and shaky camera work, which feels more like the cameraman tripped than a stylistic choice.
Every time you expect something spine-chilling, the film gives you a faint whisper or a slow zoom on someone’s shocked face. It’s like being haunted by an overzealous stage actor.
Even the setting—an old, rain-soaked village and a haunted school—fails to deliver atmosphere. Instead of eerie isolation, it feels like a Tourism Department ad gone wrong: “Visit Bengal—where the spirits are friendly, but the pacing isn’t.”
The Mystery That No One Asked For
The big reveal is that the children’s deaths were caused by shoddy construction and cruel punishment. This tragedy is supposedly the emotional core of the film, but it’s handled with all the subtlety of a ghost wielding a cricket bat.
And then comes the final twist: Nandini is a ghost herself! Gasp! Except, by that point, most viewers are praying for an exorcism of their own. The clues are so obvious that even the ghosts in the audience saw it coming.
When Nandini smiles eerily at the end, it’s not chilling—it’s cathartic. Because finally, mercifully, the movie’s over.
Music to Wake the Dead
Anirudh Ravichander’s score tries its best to add life to the film—quite an achievement, considering how dead everything else feels. The soundtrack swings wildly between “haunting” and “Bollywood ballad,” often in the same scene. It’s as if the music itself is confused about whether it’s supposed to make us cry or duck for cover.
The sound design is similarly inconsistent. Ghostly whispers are drowned out by thunderclaps that sound like someone dropping furniture. If horror movies live and die by atmosphere, Shob Bhooturey dies of noise pollution.
Ghost Logic and Other Casualties
Like any good supernatural story, Shob Bhooturey plays fast and loose with logic—but here, it’s less fast and more utterly lost.
For instance:
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How does Nandini drive a car if she’s a ghost? Is there a spectral DMV?
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Why does Aniket trust a stranger who pops up in the middle of the road claiming to be sent by his dead father? Has he never seen a horror film?
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And why do the ghosts only become active when the plot demands it? Are they on union hours?
These questions are never answered, presumably because the screenplay forgot to ask them in the first place.
The Tragedy of Trying Too Hard
What’s truly frustrating about Shob Bhooturey is that it could have worked. The premise—a skeptic forced to confront his father’s legacy through a real haunting—had potential for a thoughtful ghost story. But instead of tension, we get confusion; instead of grief, we get ghostly gossip.
The film wants to be both spooky and sentimental, but ends up stuck in tonal limbo. It’s not scary enough for horror fans, not emotional enough for drama lovers, and not weird enough to be camp. It’s just… there. A cinematic ghost itself—present, but empty.
Final Thoughts: Paranormal? Yes. Entertaining? No.
Shob Bhooturey proves that sometimes the scariest thing about a horror movie is realizing you’ve still got 40 minutes left. It’s a film haunted by good intentions and bad execution, where atmosphere is sacrificed to exposition, and the ghosts seem as confused about the plot as we are.
The title promises that “everything is paranormal,” but after watching it, you’ll think: maybe everything is just poorly written.
If you’re looking for a Bengali ghost story that’s creepy, moving, and memorable—this ain’t it. But if you want to watch talented actors trapped in a séance of sloppy storytelling, Shob Bhooturey is your spectral disaster of choice.
In the end, the real spirit haunting this film isn’t a ghost—it’s mediocrity, and it’s here to stay.
