More than a biopic: 'Bhaimon Da' tracks the arc of Assamese film history

Munin Barua's life story is so deeply ingrained with the evolution of Assamese cinema that telling one is, in effect, telling the other;

Update: 2025-05-27 08:54 GMT
More than a biopic: Bhaimon Da tracks the arc of Assamese film history
A file image of the poster of Bhaimon Da 
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Bhaimon Da functions primarily as a tribute to Assamese cinema than a biopic on celebrated Assamese filmmaker Munin Barua.

Because Munin Barua's life story is so deeply ingrained with the evolution of Assamese cinema that telling one is, in effect, telling the other.

Positioning Barua within the larger story of the history and challenges of cinema in Assam, the film mostly follows up with the theatrical releases of Barua - from Bowari (1982) to Raamdhenu (2011) although he has worked across different spaces and formats.

In fact, Sasanka Samir's direction attempts a wide canvas. Many personalities-from Shiva Prasad Thakur to Jayanta Hazarika, from Bhabendranath Saikia to Jahnu Barua are worked into the narrative with different actors portraying the legends, even if some of them are just blink-and-miss cameos.

Bondip Sarma shines as a good actor more than the role that he is portraying. While in the first half, he carries a charming presence, in the second half, there's a strong command in the way he asserts himself with just a look. There's the look of control, hurt, helplessness, restraint and patience, contextualised according to situations. The female lead, Yasashree Bhuyan, who essays the role of Manjula Barua, is promising but she is almost sidelined from the story in the second half.

Bhaimon Da, as a film, works in favour of nostalgia for anyone who can remotely associate themselves with Assamese cinema or its history. For older viewers, there will be the memories of Biju Phukan, Mridula Baruah, Pranjal Saikia, and Bidya Rao; for millennials, it's Zubeen Garg and Jatin Bora.

The film also throws in a few meta-cinematic references - the blossoming of a love story between the producer and the actress during the shooting of Bowari (1982), for instance. And there's Roopkar and Pabitra Kumar Deka. Now, these are trivia that a viewer can relate to only if they are aware about the who's who of Assamese cinema.

The casting has its moments. Nilim Dutta as Biju Phukan and Kaushik Bharadwaj as Jatin Bora are close matches. But others - like most notably, Partha Pratim Hazarika as Zubeen Garg - feel miscast visually, but his mannerisms and the voice work by Rahul Gautam Sharma salvages that impression.

Meanwhile, some performances border on caricature, especially Himangshu Barman as Himanta Biswa Sarma. The art and costume design, although done well, sometimes veer into the excesses of a Bollywood feel-good period drama, especially with the choice of costumes for the lead pair.

The colourful costume choices can be understood as an attempt to make them visually stand out in crowded frames, but at times they can unwillingly propel a comparison with the exaggerated aesthetics of Rohit Shetty's Cirkus (2022).

Moreover, there was a very important need of prosthetics in the make-up to make the actors age well or appropriately represent the real-life personalities shown in the film.

The episodic nature of biopics bending of time, compressed time, and narrative leaps is present here as well and the non-linearity of the narrative in the first half mixes everything well together. Three distinct timelines operate simultaneously: the 'present in the past', where an adult Munin Barua visits a village household following a death; the 'past in the past', depicting his teenage and young adult years; and a 'further past', showing his school-going childhood, rendered in black and white for visual distinction. But the only problem is the superimposed time stamps that appear and disappear too quickly to be read.

The appearance of important industry peers like Sanjeev Hazarika, Bani Das and Bidyut Chakravarty feel ornamental they appear to populate the frame and sometimes provide moral support to Munin Barua.

But Bhaimon Da is not a focussed character study of the man who revived Assamese cinema. Because the story leans heavily on external conflicts, death, funding issues, piracy and antagonistic theatre owners. Barua's values, convictions, and dignity come through, but his inner world remains unexplored.

This is because the makers had no direct insight into Munin Barua's inner world. They had to construct the narrative through second-hand accounts and memories shared by those who knew Munin Barua, inevitably shaping a story driven more by the events around him than by the man himself.

So, now the film is more about the state of Assamese cinema, the ups and downs and the challenges that exist. Nevertheless, it contextualises these challenges through Munin Barua's filmography.

Meanwhile, Rijjoo, Munin Barua's son, takes over the narrative in the final stretch, as Bhaimon Da is shifted to the background. And Gitartha Sharma shines in this role. The father-son arc in the film whether between Bhaimon Da and his own father or between Rijjoo and Bhaimon Dais meaningful and layered enough to have carried the film on its own. Anyway, it remains to be seen how someone who is new to the world of Assamese cinema relates to this film.

To conclude, Bhaimon Da is not flawless, but it's deeply sincere. It offers nostalgia, tribute, context, and critique, all at the same time. In a scene, Munin Barua laments the fact that the audiences didn't popularly embrace his National Award-winning Dinabandhu (2004).

It is a moment that is a silent reflection of the present, where Assamese audiences are increasingly indifferent to the struggles and potential of their own cinema. Bhaimon Da may not fully capture the soul of the man, but it undoubtedly captures the soul of the cinema he gave his life to.

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