Baramulla Review
Weekends, when the whole family is away, turn into my tiny pockets of freedom. I usually spend them cleaning every nook and cranny of the house, trying new recipes I’ve been craving, and, of course, binging on Netflix (that is, if I find anything worth watching). This weekend was exactly that. After seeing my husband off to the airport at 3:30 a.m., I made myself some tea and began scrolling through Netflix in search of something watchable.
Being a true patriotic Indian, the moment I stumbled upon Baramulla, I hit play without a second thought. The beginning felt fine—nothing extraordinary—but expected, because every story needs its space to introduce itself. I knew Baramulla only because of the terrorist attack associated with that name, so I started the movie with a preconceived notion that it must be based on that incident.
But as the film progressed, something shifted.
A strange uneasiness crept in.
And I found myself wondering—why does this feel like a horror movie?
A Film That Refuses to Fit Into a Box
Baramulla starts like a crime investigation but slowly sinks into a moody, unsettling space where grief, memory and the supernatural seem to overlap. The pacing is deliberate, almost meditative—not slow, but thoughtful. And that is where Aditya Suhas Jambhale’s signature begins to show.
If you’ve watched his earlier films—Article 370 or Kharvas—you’ll immediately recognise the familiar darkness. The quiet tension. The way he uses silence like a character. There’s always something unspoken hanging in the air, something that refuses to reveal itself until the very end.
In fact, at many moments, the film gives off a vibe very similar to Bejoy Nambiar’s cinema( you must have watched Shaitan, Wazir etc) —stylish, atmospheric, and emotionally heavy. That Nordic-noir style—cold tones, minimalist dialogues, and a sense of dread—runs through the film like a thin thread.
The Story That Pulls You In
Set in the eerie calm of Kashmir’s Baramulla district, the film follows DSP Ridwan Syed, played brilliantly by Manav Kaul, who is investigating a series of missing children. But the haunting isn’t limited to his professional life—strange things begin happening inside his own home, especially around his daughter.
Suddenly, it’s not just a case.
It’s a nightmare that refuses to stay outside the door.
The shift from crime thriller to psychological drama and then to something almost supernatural is subtle yet powerful. You don’t realise when the ground beneath the narrative changes—you only feel the chill.
Here I want to mention that as the film began, I kept wondering why it was giving off the vibe of a horror movie. And then came that moment—when Manav Kaul grew increasingly agitated listening to Bhasha Sumbli’s supeernatural story. For a second, I felt certain that the director was about to reveal something that would finally confirm my suspicion: No, this isn’t a horror film. But… but… but—what unfolded next proved something far more impressive.
The screenplay, the direction, and even the editing were so skilfully crafted that the past and present merged seamlessly, almost poetically. Hats off to the filmmaker for pulling that off with such finesse.
Performances That Do the Heavy Lifting
Manav Kaul is a force. His fear, confusion, and exhaustion are painfully real.
Bhasha Sumbli adds emotional depth, grounding the supernatural with genuine human fear.
Rohaan Singh shines as Ayaan, the young son of Manav Kaul’s character, DSP Ridwaan Sayyed. His mischievous charm and natural screen presence make the role feel effortlessly real.
And last, young Arista Mehta, as Noorie, becomes the soft center of this hard, unsettling world.
Why Baramulla Lingers
This isn’t your typical weekend thriller.
There are no loud shocks, no gimmicky scares.
It’s the silence, the atmosphere, the grief—lingering in every frame—that gets you.
It’s not a movie you “watch.”
It’s a movie you feel, long after the screen goes black.
For someone like me, who started it half-sleepy at dawn, expecting a straightforward thriller about a terrorist attack, Baramulla was a surprise. A haunting, slow-burning, beautifully crafted surprise.
And if you appreciate cinema that blends emotion with darkness…
If you enjoy films that make you think rather than jolt you…
Then Baramulla is absolutely worth your weekend.
The story pauses here… until we turn the next page together.
— Anu
Spill. Stir. Stay tuned As Not all drama belongs in court.
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