Written by: Kalpajyoti Bhuyan
The second Assamese web series to receive a feature film adaptation, following the highly successful Bidurbhai (2024), Pranab Bharali’s Chupa Chupi (2026) was released in cinemas across Assam on June 12. Picking up the story of Deepak (Kaushik Bharadwaj), Roop (Saptarshi Gogoi), Sanu (Jeet Kalita) and Bogo (Jintu Kumar Kashyap) a few years after the events of the web series, the sequel opened strongly at the box office and is expected to continue its run until the release of the next major Assamese film, Koka Deuta Nati Aru Hati 2, on July 3, 2026.
The original web series, released in 2024, struck a chord with audiences for its honesty, innocence and satirical take on the communication revolution and rural life. It explored lives upended by the arrival of mobile phones through various shades of taboo and marginality—a lonely housewife, a local PCO operator, two lovers willing to die for each other, and a group of teenagers. One of the series’ greatest strengths was its focus. The story remained rooted in its characters and was always conscious of its own limitations. Its social commentary, while never particularly subtle, stayed within the boundaries defined by the story and its characters.
The same cannot be said for Chupa Chupi, the film. As with many sequels, the scale and ambition of the storytelling have increased, but the characters and their personal journeys are lost in the process. While the characters shaped the narrative in the original, they become merely small parts of a much larger social agenda in the sequel.
There is nothing inherently wrong with expanding the scope and budget of a sequel, but it is another matter altogether when the screenplay seems unsure of where it is heading. The film meanders aimlessly through most of its first half as the characters wander around the village and spend their nights getting drunk. This is justified under the pretext of introducing Billu, a new character played by Kamal Lochan, to the village.
The characters in Chupa Chupi are as confused as the writing itself. Billu, for instance, is written so clumsily that none of his motivations are clearly established. If he is willing to cut his hand to prove his love for Sangita (Boibhabi Goswami), he is later shown pursuing Urmila (Snigdha Gogoi). His confession of love to Sangita, developed over the course of just a few days, creates a conflict with Deepak, Sangita’s former lover, but the film never makes use of that conflict. Why establish it in the first place? The same criticism applies to the character played by Bedabrat Borah.
After spending considerable time indulging their male entitlement, the gang decides to steal a duck from the house of Bogo’s former lover, who is now happily married to a small businessman. This is where the film abruptly pivots into something forced and unnatural—a full-blown social commentary, whose absence had made the original web series all the more special and effective.
This is where the film begins to resemble 30 Days of Night—a night that seemingly never ends—and The Dark Knight, with its social experiment aimed at proving that the unity between two neighbouring villages remains intact. One only wishes the conflict between these villages had been properly established from the beginning to justify such a payoff. The villagers from both sides become involved in increasingly bizarre situations. However, unlike the original series, the writers no longer focus on technology and communication, which were defining thematic elements of the web series. Instead, characters inexplicably communicate through handwritten letters in the middle of the night.
In terms of characterization, meaningful attention is given only to Bogo and Urmila. Heartbroken after losing both his lover and his mother, Bogo finds comfort in Urmila, who is raising a young daughter alone while living as a social outcast. Their grief, loneliness and emotional struggles are portrayed with sensitivity, allowing Jintu Kumar Kashyap and Snigdha Gogoi to deliver some of the film’s strongest performances. By contrast, Sangita remains the weakest-written character. She constantly shifts in and out of conviction, appearing defiant in one moment and fully supportive of Billu in the next without sufficient narrative justification.
The screenplay does little to clarify these inconsistencies. It frequently disregards the internal logic of its own storytelling. For example, it fails to establish the geographical boundaries of the setting. Inexplicably, Bhootor Bari becomes easily accessible, allowing Sangita and Billu to meet despite the police supposedly sealing off the area from all sides.
Another problem lies in the film’s inability to balance its multiple genres. It tries to be sad, funny, romantic and socially relevant all at once, while simultaneously attempting to fulfil the moral obligations often associated with mainstream South Indian cinema. Yet the film might have struck gold had it remained a straightforward horror-comedy. The superstitions surrounding Bhootor Bari could have been established much earlier, lending the story a genuine sense of mystery and atmosphere.
It is also refreshing to see Arun Nath in an unconventional role as the Gaonburha (village head). Meanwhile, Kaushik Bharadwaj, Saptarshi Gogoi and Jeet Kalita receive limited screen time as Kamal Lochan’s character dominates the narrative. Technically, Chupa Chupi is superior to many Assamese films released in recent years. However, in terms of story and substance, one could simply say that Bidurbhai (2024) ran, while Chupa Chupi (2026) merely walked.
Reports suggest that Chupa Chupi collected ?3.25 crore during its first week at the box office. Judging by the commercial outcome, the controversies surrounding its “Hah Khabo” promotional campaign appear to have worked in the film’s favour. The film was also released in Hyderabad, Bengaluru and Mumbai a week after its Assam release.