Baramulla Review: Haunting Shadows Over the Valley
Aditya Dhar’s Baramulla, directed by Aditya Suhas Jambhale, unfolds as a chilling yet poetic narrative that transforms the snow-laden silence of Kashmir into a canvas of grief and guilt. The film isn’t merely a supernatural thriller; it’s a meditation on trauma, exile, and the ghosts that linger not in houses, but in memories.
Set in the conflicted town of Baramulla, the story follows DSP Ridwaan Sayyed, portrayed with impeccable depth by Manav Kaul. Assigned to investigate a series of child disappearances, Ridwaan soon finds himself confronting not just criminal shadows, but echoes of Kashmir’s buried sorrow. The film’s atmosphere is thick with unease — not of fear, but of remembrance. Each frame captures the valley’s haunting beauty, its snow serving as both a shroud and a mirror for collective suffering.
Manav Kaul’s performance is easily among his finest. He embodies a man consumed by duty and disbelief, his restraint amplifying the film’s emotional pull. Bhasha Sumbli lends grace and quiet tragedy to her role, complementing the film’s tone. The cinematography by Shailesh Awasthi turns Baramulla’s natural stillness into a ghostly presence of its own, while the sound design amplifies the valley’s emptiness with unnerving subtlety.
However, Baramulla struggles under the weight of its own ambition. The first half unfolds too slowly, circling its mystery without urgency. The dialogue, at times, leans into exposition rather than emotion. Yet, by the time the threads of the supernatural and political converge in the final act, the payoff is powerful enough to linger long after the credits roll. The horror here isn’t about what lurks in the dark — it’s about what refuses to be forgotten.
As a film critic’s verdict, Baramulla stands at 3.8 out of 5. It’s not flawless, but it’s brave. In an era when Indian horror often trades depth for theatrics, this film dares to be quiet, introspective, and unsettlingly human. Aditya Dhar and Aditya Suhas Jambhale have crafted a film that speaks less through fear and more through silence — a silence that echoes through the valley, long after the ghosts have gone.
