He decides to host his sister’s long-delayed wedding at the sprawling but ominous property. The mansion carries a chilling reputation: a long-standing legend claims that no bride survives in the town. As preparations begin, strange and increasingly terrifying incidents start to unfold. We get to witness ghostly apparitions, unexplained disturbances and bizarre occurrences that unsettle both the family and the locals.

Arjun, initially sceptical, finds himself drawn into the mystery as he tries to protect his sister and salvage the wedding. What follows is a mishmash of misunderstandings, eccentric characters and comic situations layered over a genuinely eerie backdrop. As he digs deeper, Arjun uncovers a dark, centuries-old secret tied to the palace and its haunting.

Bhooth Bangla plays out like a pastiche of Priyadarshan’s films of yore. The first half features extended comic stretches, including a two-character skit between Akshay Kumar and Asrani that blends verbal wit with slapstick. The sequence, running over ten minutes, sets the tone for the film’s comedic ambitions. Asrani’s character is written out thereafter, with Priyadarshan’s regulars, Rajpal Yadav and Paresh Rawal, stepping in. Yadav reprises his familiar trope of the perpetually battered man, serving as the butt of repeated physical gags. Rawal, by contrast, is denied the author-backed role that has often elevated him; known for his sharp dialogue delivery, he too is reduced largely to slapstick. The burden of sustaining the humour ultimately falls on Akshay Kumar, who gamely throws himself into one absurd situation after another.

The second half pivots sharply into mythological horror. Through an animated exposition, the film unveils a convoluted family history, detailing an ancient curse tied to Arjun’s lineage. His ancestors, we learn, resorted to devil worship to fulfil their desires. Arjun’s battle against this inherited evil and his attempt to break the curse forms the crux of the narrative.

In essence, Bhooth Bangla feels like two disparate films fused into one. Priyadarshan might have been better served choosing a clearer tonal direction. The horror elements, striking visuals of an ancient temple collapsing, a demonic force rising, and a man-bat creature wreaking havoc are genuinely compelling and could have anchored a more focused narrative about a prodigal son confronting ancestral evil. Alternatively, the film could have followed the Bhool Bhulaiyaa route, rationalising the supernatural and using comedy as a narrative device. In its current form, the tonal shifts make for an uneasy blend.

Akshay Kumar remains impressively fit and energetic but the casting stretches plausibility. Mithila Palkar as his younger sister and Wamiqa Gabbi as his romantic interest feel mismatched. Ironically, Tabu’s brief appearance in a flashback offers a more age-appropriate pairing. Adding to the oddity, Jisshu Sengupta plays his father and Rajesh Sharma his grandfather both actors being younger than Kumar.

The film takes time to take off, and its nearly three-hour runtime proves excessive. It drags in several stretches, and tighter editing could have easily trimmed it to a crisper two-and-a-half hours. The lack of narrative economy is particularly surprising for a filmmaker of Priyadarshan’s calibre.

Does Akshay Kumar deliver? Absolutely. Even as he approaches 60, his energy remains remarkable and he commits fully to the film’s tonal swings. Interestingly, his standout moment comes in the end-credits song Ram Ji aake bhala karenge. Despite courting controversy for its resemblance to Bhooter raja dilo bor from Satyajit Ray’s Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne (1969), the track, choreographed as a homage to Michael Jackson’s Thriller, is exuberant, with Akshay in particularly fine form. One can’t help but wish the rest of the film matched this playful confidence. Ganesh Acharya, take a bow!

Wamiqa Gabbi, though a capable actor, has little to do beyond a handful of scenes and songs. Mithila Palkar is similarly underutilised. Rajpal Yadav’s return to the big screen is welcome but his reliance on familiar comic beats feels repetitive. Paresh Rawal, too, seems underwritten. The film is also notable as one of Asrani’s final appearances, lending it a certain nostalgic weight.

All in all, the film offers fleeting glimpses of Priyadarshan’s once-formidable craft. At his peak, he delivered Malayalam classics like Boeing Boeing (1985) and Chithram (1988), while his Hindi films like Hera Pheri (2000) and Bhool Bhulaiyaa (2007) have achieved cult status. The hallmark of those works was their tightly constructed screenplays. Sadly, that crucial element is missing here…