Bhaimon Da

Sasanka Samir’s debut film, Bhaimon Da (2025), is a biopic that narrates the ups and downs of Munin Barua (1946-2018), the legendary filmmaker who, despite many challenges, kept popular Assamese cinema alive since his directorial debut with Pratima (1987). Barua was a pioneer who made commercial films that brought people back to the theatres at a time when Assamese cinema was struggling to survive. This film serves as a poignant reminder of the crucial role that such filmmakers have played in preserving and revitalizing regional cinema.

Munin, also known as Bhaimon (Bondip Sarma), is a young boy from Golaghat who loves cinema. While his mother supports his passion, his father disapproves of his growing love for films and sends him to Delhi for higher studies. But Bhaimon spends most of his time there watching Hindi movies instead of studying. After failing his exams, he returns home and joins the local college. There, he meets Professor Shiva Prasad Thakur (Samudragupta Dutta), who introduces him to the world of the stage. Under Thakur’s guidance, Bhaimon begins to understand the craft of storytelling. When his mentor starts making films, Bhaimon joins him and takes his first steps into cinema. Over time, he discovers his voice as a filmmaker and decides to become a director…

Bhaimon Da is more than just the story of a filmmaker’s rise; it is also a quiet, clear-eyed reflection on the challenges Assamese cinema continues to face in its backyard. As Bhaimon’s journey unfolds – from a wide-eyed film enthusiast to one of Assam’s most respected directors – the film documents how regional cinema has long struggled for visibility against the dominance of Hindi films, even within Assam. This imbalance persists, with Hindi films receiving more screens and promotion, which gives the story a quiet urgency. Through such details, Bhaimon Da becomes both a personal story and a quiet commentary on an entire industry’s struggle to stay afloat.

In terms of its treatment, Sasanka Samir’s direction avoids heavy-handedness. Barring perhaps a couple of scenes, he doesn’t overplay the emotion, allowing the story’s natural flow to carry the weight of its themes. Thankfully, he paints Bhaimon not as a larger-than-life figure but as a man who meets life’s awkward moments and hardships with composure. Even after delivering several hit films, we see him shopping for vegetables in the local market, unbothered by his popularity. He is a modern, open-minded father who doesn’t hesitate to borrow a cigarette from his son or casually advise him on remedies for a hangover.

In the second half of the film, Bhaimon Da gently shifts gears, showing us a more seasoned Bhaimon returning to filmmaking after a hiatus. By now, the landscape of Assamese cinema has changed, and Bhaimon adapts with grace, not by chasing trends, but by understanding them. It portrays the rise of cultural icons like Jatin Bora and Zubeen Garg – figures who, like Bhaimon, earned the love of the people by delivering popular films in their language, both literally and emotionally. Here, Samir illustrates how Bhaimon’s cinema connects deeply with the everyday lives of Assamese audiences. His films are not merely stories; they are reflections of the region’s hopes, anxieties, and spirit, capturing the textures of a culture often sidelined.

The film’s closing moments offer a moving parallel between generations. When Bhaimon has a simple wish – to see his film screened in the lone single-screen theatre of his hometown, it becomes more than a gesture. In fulfilling this wish, his son has to cross one hurdle after another. His quiet determination to see his father’s dream come true gives the film a stirring finale, reminding us that love for cinema often runs in the family, not just as art, but as inheritance.

The film’s ambition is also its burden. Bhaimon Da tries to capture too many events and personalities from its protagonist’s life, and in doing so, some scenes begin to feel more like isolated episodes strung together than flow naturally with a cohesively emotional arc, reminding us that sometimes, omission serves a narrative better than over-inclusion. The non-linear structure constantly shifting between past and present becomes overused, occasionally breaking the emotional momentum. Samir’s restraint in avoiding overt conflict is admirable, but at times, it leaves the storytelling feeling too pat and smooth, even when tension could have deepened the character’s journey.

The film pays homage to numerous real-life figures from Assamese society who influenced Bhaimon. While these references are meaningful, they sometimes pull focus from the emotional core of the story. At the interval point, Bhaimon makes a painful decision to step away from filmmaking after a personal tragedy. But when we meet him again in the second half, he has already returned to filmmaking, without fully exploring how he overcame that trauma. That missing emotional bridge leaves a noticeable gap in an otherwise intimate portrait. With a running time of two hours and thirty-nine minutes and a tone that mostly avoids high-stakes drama, the film occasionally tests the viewer’s patience.

Bondip Sarma brings quiet conviction to the role of Bhaimon, capturing both the wide-eyed dreamer and the seasoned filmmaker with understated charm. Partha Pratim Hazarika channels the charisma and larger-than-life presence of Zubeen Garg with the right touch of swagger. As Professor Shiva Prasad Thakur, Samudragupta Dutta lends the character warmth and gravitas. Yasashree Bhuyan, as Bhaimon’s devoted wife, delivers a tender performance, anchoring her character with quiet dignity and emotional restraint.

Vanchinathan Murugesam’s cinematography gracefully captures the period setting of the film, lending it a warm, lived-in texture that helps ground the narrative in a specific time and place. Protim Khaound’s editing maintains a rhythmic flow that mirrors the film’s emotional beats, though one wishes a firmer hand had trimmed some of its more meandering stretches. The music by Zubeen Garg and Poran Borkatoky stands out as the film’s emotional heartbeat, while Garima Saikia Garg’s costume design subtly enhances character and milieu. Amrit Pritam’s sound design leans heavily on the background score, often supporting the mood rather than defining it.

Despite its overlong runtime and occasional narrative detours, Bhaimon Da stands as a heartfelt tribute to Munin Baruah. With his debut, Sasanka Samir doesn’t just tell a story – he preserves a legacy and rekindles a quiet pride in Assamese cinema, inviting us to reflect and rediscover its soul.

Assamese, Biopic, Drama, Color