‘Munjya’ Review: Engaging but a Watered-Down Version of the ‘Scare’ It Promised

Possessiveness and possession collide in the latest entry in Dinesh Vijan’s horror universe, Munjya. A young boy’s obsession with a woman much older than him takes a twisted turn which leads to his death, just a few days (or hours even) after his sacred thread ceremony, making him a ‘munjya’. This particular munjya is a vengeful spirit who seeks a vessel to escape his ‘prison’ and make his way to the woman he is obsessed with.

While munjya doesn’t exist in the human realm, the only people who can see him are his bloodline. This makes for interesting tension and comedy in Aditya Sarpotdar’s film. I still love the gag where someone asks their friend, who is clearly being flung across a room like a rag doll, if they’re ‘okay’.  

As Munjya plays on, one thing becomes clear – there is just something special about hyperlocal horror told by someone who understands the folklore surrounding a region; the Konkan region in this case. If you’re someone who grew up listening to elders tell horror stories from your village, folklore horror has an irreplaceable appeal. Even if you didn’t, the setting of the genre, especially the trope of an ‘entity’ tied to its natural environment can feel more ‘real’.

And Munjya does feel that way – partly because who hasn’t heard of a supernatural entity tried to an eerie tree and partly because of munjya’s terrifying obsession with a woman. The study of masculinity and patriarchy are themes similar to Stree and Roohi – the former still being the best entry in the Vijan universe. But that is perhaps because Stree doesn’t walk on eggshells even if it is attempting to be a family-viewing experience. Sometimes, Munjya does feel that way – munjya’s actual terror feels a little watered down.

Instead, the film tends to rely on jump scares to get the ‘scare’ when the real fear comes from the story under all the chaos. The messaging in Stree permeated the entire film – making it impossible to differentiate the multiple shades of ‘fear’ the film explored from its horror-comedy leanings. In Munjya, the tonal shift becomes obvious more than once (that is not to, however, discredit that most of the jokes do land).

But where there is an antagonist there must be a protagonist. This lofty responsibility rests on Bittu’s (Abhay Verma) shoulders. A meek and frightened man who doesn’t have the courage to confess his feelings to his college friend Bela (Sharvari) is suddenly confronted by a living nightmare. Verma’s casting feels apt for Bittu’s role – he isn’t a ‘hero’ by any means but keeps fighting to protect the people he loves. Even his courage is tied to his fear of loss.

Verma captures Bittu’s fear perfectly, making for a more terrified and less innovative Rohit (from Koi... Mil Gaya). Sharvari, though less present in the film than others, leaves quite an impact. The performance that stands out is Suhas Joshi as Bittu’s grandmother.

It’s interesting that Bittu is raised by two women – his mother (an endearing Mona Singh) and his grandmother. Where his mother is protective (almost to a fault), his grandmother is supportive. Both these women have made Bittu who he is and that shows in their characterisation. The scenes between Bittu and his grandmother are particularly heartwarming to watch – the tenderness with which both characters treat each other feels like a deeply personal experience etched on celluloid.

In the deeply personal, Munjya finds connections in the story that keep the film engaging. It is impressive how the ‘tree’ that keeps the munjya captive is intrinsically connected to the metaphorical family tree.

There are, however, places where everything feels ‘too much’ – affecting the actor’s performances as well. Sathyaraj’s performance as a cult leader (Karim Elvis), for instance, is too devoid of shades to make the character interesting beyond a ‘bit’. The overwhelming background score doesn’t do the film any favours – it is too overbearing to create the atmosphere it needs to.

The universe’s previous installment, Bhediya, had better sound design. If you wish to understand how important good sound design is to horror, take a look at why Shiva Baby makes you feel so deeply uncomfortable despite not being a horror movie.

Before I proceed, I must appreciate the sheer work that must have gone into creating ‘munjya’, marketed as India’s first computer-generated actor. The detailing – from munjya’s humanoid appearances to the detailing that both tied and separated him from the young boy he used to be – is impressive.

Director of photography Saurabh Goswami and editor Monisha R Baldawa also work together to create the atmosphere for Munjya. From foreboding shots to scenes that only reveal what they must, Munjya is definitely a visual experience. And yet, there are some scenes where the VFX feels half-baked.

One thing that does bother me about Munjya is that, in trying to remain ‘lighthearted’ viewing, it glosses over some stuff. Where does Munjya’s actual terror come from? Does it not come from the idea of a child so deeply obsessed with the woman he is stalking that he has become a malevolent entity?

Does it not come from the fact that a woman’s drink is spiked in the movie but nobody actually addresses it later? In the Vijan universe, horror comes with its message – that’s what makes the film’s stand out.

Bhediya wasn’t just a werewolf story; it was a movie about the connection between humans and the nature they inhabit (and their duty towards it). Roohi wasn’t just about a vengeful female ghost; it was a film about consent and identity. Munjya seems to struggle with establishing that ‘identity’ for itself even as it remains an entertaining and hatke addition to Indian horror.

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