The Bengal Files: A Provocative and Unsettling Dive into Bengal’s Past
At three hours and twenty-five minutes, The Bengal Files is an unflinching and immersive historical drama that keeps you gripped throughout, even when what you’re watching is deeply disturbing. This film is the third and final entry in Vivek Agnihotri’s “Files” trilogy, placing its focus on one of India’s lesser-explored tragedies—the communal violence that engulfed Bengal around Direct Action Day and the Noakhali riots of 1946.
The plot unfolds through the experiences of CBI officer Shiva Pandit, who is investigating the disappearance of a journalist. His search leads him to Bharati Banerjee, an elderly woman whose slipping memory serves as a window to the past. Through her recollections, the film transports viewers to a time of brutal atrocities, brutality rendered in vivid and graphic sequences that are difficult to witness.
Agnihotri’s portrayal is neither subtle nor neutral. He holds Jinnah’s resolve responsible for the partition’s chaos and paints Gandhi’s commitment to non-violence as dangerously ineffectual amid mass brutality. One particularly jarring scene suggests women should resort to fasting—even death—instead of defending themselves—underscoring the film’s critical stance toward pacifism in the face of violence.
Performances are compelling: Darshan Kumaar brings weight and moral struggle to Shiva Pandit, while Pallavi Joshi’s portrayal of Bharati brings emotional gravity to the flashbacks. Anupam Kher and Mithun Chakraborty make brief but memorable appearances, and newcomer Eklavya Sood shines with a deeply affecting performance. Supporting roles—like Rajesh Khera’s portrayal of Jinnah—add further strength to the ensemble.
While the story’s intensity and relentless brutality may exhaust some viewers, they also serve the film’s goal: to confront a neglected chapter of India’s history and stir reflection. The Bengal Files may not offer comfort, but it compels engagement—and that, in itself, is a rare cinematic feat.
The plot unfolds through the experiences of CBI officer Shiva Pandit, who is investigating the disappearance of a journalist. His search leads him to Bharati Banerjee, an elderly woman whose slipping memory serves as a window to the past. Through her recollections, the film transports viewers to a time of brutal atrocities, brutality rendered in vivid and graphic sequences that are difficult to witness.
Agnihotri’s portrayal is neither subtle nor neutral. He holds Jinnah’s resolve responsible for the partition’s chaos and paints Gandhi’s commitment to non-violence as dangerously ineffectual amid mass brutality. One particularly jarring scene suggests women should resort to fasting—even death—instead of defending themselves—underscoring the film’s critical stance toward pacifism in the face of violence.
Performances are compelling: Darshan Kumaar brings weight and moral struggle to Shiva Pandit, while Pallavi Joshi’s portrayal of Bharati brings emotional gravity to the flashbacks. Anupam Kher and Mithun Chakraborty make brief but memorable appearances, and newcomer Eklavya Sood shines with a deeply affecting performance. Supporting roles—like Rajesh Khera’s portrayal of Jinnah—add further strength to the ensemble.
While the story’s intensity and relentless brutality may exhaust some viewers, they also serve the film’s goal: to confront a neglected chapter of India’s history and stir reflection. The Bengal Files may not offer comfort, but it compels engagement—and that, in itself, is a rare cinematic feat.