Baramulla Movie Review: A Psychological Thriller Set In Gloomy, Spooky Kashmir
Baramulla Movie Review: In the heart of Kashmir, among snow-capped mountains and alleys steeped in history, lives Ridwaan Sayyid, a local policeman dealing with a series of mysterious disappearances of children. Baramulla, the new supernatural thriller by Aditya Suhas Jambhale, available from November 7, 2025, on Netflix India, weaves suspense, the supernatural, and socio-political tensions, painting an intense and multifaceted portrait of a region marked by historical memory and social contradictions. With Manav Kaul at the center stage, the film mixes emotional restlessness and moral reflection, offering a narrative that keeps the viewer suspended between reality and the shadows of the past. Some films catch you right away, hypnotize you for a good half hour, and then slowly begin to fray, like a sweater you love too much and wash badly. Baramulla, it’s just like that: it starts strong, it grabs you with that subtle thriller tension done right, and then — when you think it’s about to explode — it gets lost in too many thoughts.
We’re in Kashmir, between mountains that seem painted and snow that covers everything: bodies, faults, and even memory. Here they arrive, Ridwaan Sayyed, a cop played by Manav Kaul, and his family: wife, teenage daughter, and a curious child who would only like to live in peace. But peace, in this film, there is none at all. The first scene is textbook: a street illusionist makes a child climb into a box and makes him disappear in front of the crowd. No tricks, no explanations. Just frost — in the literal and emotional sense. It’s an incipit that also freezes your stomach. From then on, the director Aditya Suhas Jambhale builds a constant tension: the house where the family moves seems to have a soul, with creaking doors, shaking lights, and a locked room upstairs that obviously hides something. So far so good: crazy atmosphere, beautiful photography, right pace. But then what often happens in ambitious films happens: the desire to say too many things arrives.
Baramulla Movie Review: The Story Plot
The story begins in December 2016. Police officer Ridwaan Sayyed has just moved with his family to the town of Baramulla, an area in the snow-capped mountains in the Kashmir Territorial Union. The agent is there to investigate the mysterious disappearance of some kids, who disappeared under unexplained circumstances of late, leaving no trace: a disturbing situation that is terrorizing the entire community and, in particular, parents of children and pre-adolescents. What initially seems like a case linked to crime news and potential kidnappings soon turns into something much more disturbing and primordial: in the old house where the Sayyed family has settled, inexplicable phenomena begin to happen, invisible presences torment their children, Noorie and Ayaan, and his wife Gulnaar begins to sense that she is hiding behind those walls a buried secret for decades.
Baramulla Movie Review and Analysis
New movie Netflix indian-made, Baramulla it presents itself as a courageous operation that attempts to merge the archetypes of supernatural horror with a more dramatic reflection on the historical trauma of the Kashmir Valley. A mix of genres that works at times, but which, when it wants to become too ambitious, in its frantic search to leave no stone unturned, risks losing balance, sacrificing narrative coherence in favor of a potentially divisive political message. The director Aditya Suhas Jambhale had already addressed the situation regarding the 2016 unrest in those areas in the previous one, Article 370 (2024), which aimed to give a perspective through the logic of the political thriller. Here, instead, it focuses on supernatural elements, demonstrating a certain mastery of cinematographic language and the management of fear and mystery, building some sequences of tension with effective staging, recalling a consolidated imagination to create a subtly disturbing atmosphere.
Where the operation struggles the most is in holding the multiple souls of the story. Baramulla, in fact, aims to be simultaneously a crime thriller, a horror about ghosts, a family drama, and a historical reflection on the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits in the nineties. The result is a film that proceeds in tears, alternating moments of authentic suspense with digressions that end up breaking the narrative rhythm. The mix between the immaterial, that world of spirits that brings with it so many tragic secrets, and militant news is forced, as if two different scripts had been sewn together without the necessary cutting and sewing work. From an aesthetic point of view, we find ourselves dealing with technically competent, powerful work and also counting on suggestive locations and the intrinsic strength of local folklore, which many may not know fully, and therefore, even more intriguing.
The showdown, complete with twist in its own amazing way – which seems to recall a certain cinema by Guillermo del Toro – and where finally all the knots will come home to roost, it lives on a crescendo of a certain importance, managing to unite with a certain skill gender dynamics and emotional impact, rediscovering cohesion and showing how the previous running time would have benefited from greater narrative coherence. We thus find ourselves faced with a certainly fascinating film and a harbinger of ideas, but formally imperfect. The real heart of the film is Manav Kaul, who plays Ridwaan with silent intensity. Kaul manages to show the character’s inner ferocity, vulnerability, and moral conflict without ever lapsing into melodrama. Next to him, Neelofar Hamid and Arista Mehta build a credible tension: Hamid in the role of the colleague who faces bureaucratic pressures and Mehta in that of a young woman trapped between the contradictions of society. Each performer contributes to maintaining the balance between supernatural suspense and emotional introspection.
If on the surface, Baramulla is a supernatural thriller, the film is deeply political. Through the story of Ridwaan, Jambhale explores the consequences of repealing Article 370 and social tensions that have roots in the past. The otherworldly elements function as a metaphor: ghosts and disturbing presences reflect collective scars, suggesting that the past never ceases to influence the present. The film invites the viewer to reflect on historical memory, individual responsibility, and the limits of justice in a complex and polarized context. Jambhale’s direction is attentive to detail: fog-shrouded streets, dark interiors, and snowy landscapes contribute to a constant sense of restlessness. The film’s pace alternates moments of investigative tension with pauses of introspection, leaving room for the characters’ feelings without sacrificing suspense. The script balances supernatural elements and emotional realism, building a balance that keeps the viewer’s attention high. The film stands out for its ability to suggest rather than show, lending elegance to a genre often prone to sensationalism.
Baramulla starts as a supernatural mystery, but after a while, it also becomes a political drama, a historical reflection, a story about collective trauma, and even a symbolic parable about the sins of the past. Altogether. And no, it doesn’t always work. When the film decides to also include terrorists, allegories about Pandits, and a white tulip that returns as a symbol of pain, it begins to lose balance. There is so much, perhaps too much. It’s like every time you’re really about to go down in history, a new idea would pull you up your sleeve saying, “Wait, look at this too!”. That said, the atmosphere remains extraordinary. Kashmir it’s not your usual postcard landscape: it’s here cold, melancholy, ghostly. The director manages to make you feel the weight of the snow, the solitude of the mountains, and the fear that hides behind the silence. Manav Kaul, it’s perfect: one of those actors who don’t need to talk to make you understand what they’re hearing. You look at him, and his gaze is enough for you to understand that he saw too much and slept little. Also, the wife, played by Bhasha Sumbhli, is believable and sweet, a woman who holds the family together with nails and words, writing poetry in a world that no longer has room for tenderness.
The white tulip becomes the symbol of everything: purity lost, death, hope that does not return. Nice, yes, but also a little repetitive. Every time it appears, the film seems to remind you, “Look, it’s a metaphor!”, and after a while, you lack spontaneity. The idea of telling the Kashmir trauma through the genre is courageous, but in the second part, the film becomes tangled between realism and allegory, until it becomes a little heavy. Baramulla, however, remains a film worth seeing. Not perfect, but sincere. He really tries, and he feels it. He wants to talk about historical wounds, ghosts (real and internal), and the fear that arises not from monsters, but from things we have never dared to face. It leaves that strange feeling on you, a mixture of melancholy and restlessness. And even if the plot gets lost a little, its atmosphere remains imprinted like a scar in the snow. And you? You’ve already seen Baramulla on Netflix? Did it hit you, or did it just make you want a warm blanket and absolute silence? Tell me in the comments: I’m curious to know what effect this ghostly and ghostly Kashmir has had on you.
Baramulla Movie Review: The Last Words
Baramulla is not just a supernatural thriller: it’s a reflection on moral dilemmas, a sense of duty, and the scars left by history. The film convinces with the construction of tension, the solidity of interpretations, and the depth of the political subtext, making the vision engaging and reflective. Although it borders on the classic confrontation “us against them” typical of Kashmir cinema, the film stands out for its focus on personal dilemmas and on the intertwining of past and present, making the story unique and intense. A psychological thriller set in gloomy, spooky Kashmir. Beautiful photography, excellent interpretations, and constant emotional tension, but the second part is too crowded with symbols and allegories.
Cast: Neelofar Hamid, Manav Kaul, Masoom Mumtaz Khan, Kiara Khanna, Ashwini Koul, Shahid Latief, Shahid Malik, Arista Mehta
Director: Aditya Suhas Jambhale
Streaming Platform: Netflix
Filmyhype.com Ratings: 3.5/5 (three and a half stars)
