Every filmmaker dreams of a dream debut, hoping that his or her first offering will leave a lasting and positive mark on the minds of the audience so that they crave more of his or her work in the future. A filmmaker generally tries to present the very best of their vision in the debut feature—something they become acutely aware of right at the beginning, when the script of the movie is first being drafted. However, with Khakee, senior journalist Atanu Bhuyan’s debut as a director, this crucial ingredient appears to be missing—and missing by a wide margin.

When Khakee’s first look was released, the first reaction that came to mind was—Holy hell! What on earth is this?

But as they say, never judge a book by its cover, I remained hopeful that the final product would be far better than what the promotional material suggested. Unfortunately, that optimism turned out to be misplaced.

It takes a peculiar kind of courage—not merely artistic but almost reckless—to even conceive a film with such a storyline and then execute it in this manner.

So what is Khakee all about?

To answer that as simply as possible, Khakee comes across less as a cinematic work and more as a carefully packaged PR exercise masquerading as a feature film, seemingly designed with the sole intention of polishing the image of the present Assam government while simultaneously tarnishing that of the previous state government, which remained in power for 15 years from 2001 to 2016.

According to the film’s worldview, before 2016—and more emphatically before 2021—the police force in Assam functioned merely as a puppet in the hands of the ruling establishment, bereft of spine or autonomy. Then, almost miraculously, everything changed post-2016, and even more so after 2021.

From the war against drugs to campaigns against child marriage and crimes against women, Khakee dutifully ticks off every issue that the present government claims to have “successfully resolved” in recent years.

However, instead of resembling a nuanced cinematic representation of these developments, it feels more like an extended publicity reel—akin to content produced by an overenthusiastic but inexperienced media unit that prioritises messaging over storytelling.

The result is a series of sequences that play less like scenes from a film and more like overt propaganda designed to generate goodwill ahead of the forthcoming Assembly elections. Subtlety, it appears, was considered an unnecessary luxury.

A feature film disguised as a propaganda vehicle can hardly be called an act of creativity. Cinema, at its best, invites reflection and empathy; films like Khakee, however, risk doing the opposite—reducing complex social realities into simplistic binaries and, at times, seeming to provoke divisions rather than bridge them, a trend that has become increasingly familiar in what is often described as the “new India”.

The story, written by Atanu Bhuyan himself—who also serves as co-producer—offers little beyond a series of loosely connected incidents stitched together without narrative depth.

The weak screenplay further saps whatever momentum the film might have had, making the viewing experience feel longer than its actual runtime.

The acting looks lethargic, with almost every actor going through the motions rather than putting in any effort to justify either their decision to work in the film or the character they were portraying.

If overacting were an Olympic sport, Khakee might well return home with multiple gold medals.

Gitratha Sharma, playing the brash younger brother of an MLA, does manage to display a fleeting moment of conviction in a scene that requires him to reveal the darker, more perverse aspects of his character.

That brief spark, however, stands isolated—an infinitesimal glimmer in an otherwise dim landscape. Beyond that, there is little of note from an acting standpoint.

On the technical front, the background score is reasonably effective, and the colour grading in a handful of scenes is executed with care. Sadly, these remain isolated positives. The songs and overall music of the film are forgettable, adding little to the narrative or emotional texture.

Perhaps the funniest part or sequence of Khakee is its climax, which appears to be lifted almost wholesale from the 2025 Malayalam film Officer On Duty.

What were the makers even thinking when they finalised the scene? Did they consider the Assamese audience as a bunch of idiots and fools who would swallow every piece of trash served in the guise of a film?

It is high time the makers stop taking the audience for granted and start making engaging and meaningful cinema.

Movies like Khakee bring disgrace to the entire film fraternity.

Generously—very generously—I would rate Khakee at −5/5 and advise viewers to approach it only if they are fully prepared for the experience, and perhaps with expectations firmly set to the absolute minimum.

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