The Bengal Files Movie Review : A provocative portrait of Bengal’s turmoil

Story: A CBI officer probing a journalist’s disappearance uncovers Bengal’s violent past, revisiting Direct Action Day and the Noakhali killings.

Review: ‘The Bengal Files’ is a tough watch, the kind of film that makes you squirm in your seat and sit uneasy through its relentless portrayal of violence. The third in Vivek Agnihotri’s “files” trilogy, the film trains its gaze on the mayhem that followed Direct Action Day—the call given by Mohammad Ali Jinnah in 1946 demanding a separate state for Muslims. The subject itself is contentious, and Agnihotri refuses to soften it. What emerges is a historical drama that, while heavy-handed, does bring to light a chapter of Indian history rarely touched upon in popular culture. It frames the story through a contemporary plot involving the disappearance of a journalist in Bengal, using that thread to revisit the horrors of the past. Despite its nearly three-and-a-half-hour length, the film compels you to keep watching, unsettled but engrossed.

The narrative begins with CBI officer Shiva Pandit (Darshan Kumaar), who is tasked with investigating the disappearance of journalist Gita Mandal. Suspicions point toward a local MLA, Sardar Hosseini (Saswata Chatterjee), but despite Shiva’s persistence, the evidence remains elusive. As the case stalls, the story takes an unexpected turn with the introduction of Bharati Banerjee (Pallavi Joshi), an elderly woman whose fading memory becomes the bridge to history. Through her recollections, the film plunges into the pre-partition years, reconstructing Direct Action Day and the Noakhali killings in graphic detail. These sequences transport the viewer into the violence that scarred Bengal, tracing the people, politics, and compulsions that shaped a dark chapter in India’s journey to independence.

Agnihotri is unflinching in his approach. The film squarely blames Jinnah’s stubbornness for Partition and portrays Mahatma Gandhi as a frail leader whose ideology of non-violence is depicted as disastrous in the face of brutality. One particularly jarring moment shows Gandhi being asked by a butcher named Patha how women could defend themselves from assaults, and he suggests they resort to fasting and even death rather than resistance. Whether factually accurate or not, the film uses this to highlight what it views as Gandhi’s failings. Subtlety is not Agnihotri’s strength, and ‘The Bengal Files’ revels in shock value. Scenes of grotesque violence come one after another, culminating in a graphic sequence where a Sikh World War II soldier is tied to two motorcycles and pulled apart. While undeniably difficult to sit through, these moments achieve Agnihotri’s intent: to provoke anger, despair, and reflection. The film’s final stretch, where Pallavi Joshi’s character calls for a gun and voices her wish to kill Ghulam, feels overwrought and tests the audience’s patience.

Darshan Kumaar as Shiva Pandit is believable, portraying a man wrestling with moral dilemmas as he finds himself trapped by the country’s political and bureaucratic machinery. Pallavi Joshi, as Bharati Banerjee, carries a fictional role crafted as a narrative device, but her gravitas lends credibility to the film’s flashbacks. Mithun Chakraborty’s presence is more symbolic, while Anupam Kher as Mahatma Gandhi leaves a mark with a sharp, provocative turn. Rajesh Khera brings Jinnah to life with conviction, and Mohan Kapur embodies the fiery Suhrawardy with force. Simratt Kaur, as the young Bharati, makes a fleeting impression, but it is debutant Eklavya Sood who shines brightest. His portrayal of Amar, the Sikh soldier, is delivered with confidence and emotional power.

Partition stories have often centered on the north-western frontier—Punjab, Sindh, and the horrors of displacement there. The east, and particularly Bengal’s trauma, has seldom received equal attention. Agnihotri taps into this untold narrative, making the audience confront those stories, however uncomfortable it makes them. The film has all the ingredients to spark heated debates: its historical perspective, its blame on certain leaders, and its insistence on dwelling on violence. Yet, amid the excesses, it also manages to connect at an emotional level, offering glimpses into suffering that transcend politics.