Srijit Mukherji is no stranger to the genre of ‘disappearance’ mysteries, having directed Ek Je Chhilo Raja (delving into the Bhawal Sanyasi case) and Gumnaami (mystery of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose’s disapperance) in the past. Lawho Gouranger Naam Rey rounds out the trilogy. This time the director focusses on the mysterious disappearance of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu in the 16th century.
Released on Christmas 2025, Lawho Gouranger Naam Rey unfolds across three timelines. They do not appear sequentially or through elaborate flashbacks but unfold simultaneously, with the narratives sometimes overlapping through match-cuts (a signature style used by Srijit in many of his films).
And the string that holds them together is the life and times of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, and the mystery behind his disappearance.
The present-day narrative is shot in crisp focus and full colour, capturing the restless speed of the 21st century. It revolves around Rai (Ishaa Saha), a young filmmaker obsessed with uncovering the ‘antardhan’ of Chaitanya. Parthasarathi (Indraneil Sengupta), a successful “commercial” actor and her lover, plays the role of Chaitanya in Rai’s “art film”.
Rai and Parthasarathi’s names are obvious references to Krishna and Radha and their arc mirrors the tragic trajectory of the divine romance. Partha’s estranged wife (Susmita Chatterjee) sticks out like a sore thumb in their relationship.
The brilliance of Srijit Mukherji’s storytelling lies in how Partha’s wife is depicted on screen. After a brief physical appearance, she largely exists within Partha’s mind, surfacing as memory, guilt, and conscience. Despite the novelty in narrative technique, this arc doesn’t carry much emotional weight and often feels distractive in the larger plot of the film.
Ishaa Saha delivers one of her most assured performances as Rai. She is curious, grounded, and emotionally exposed. Rai slowly realises that searching for truth comes at a cost. Early on in the film, she mentions that those who probe too deeply into Chaitanya’s disappearance often meet unnatural ends. Her own death — by suicide in a bathtub while working on a film about Chaitanya, thus feels like a tragic inevitability. Like Radha, she is denied peace, dignity, and closure.
The second timeline takes us to late 19th-century north Calcutta, rendered in near-monochrome with a soft blur. This is the world of Girish Chandra Ghosh (Bratya Basu). As teacher, mentor, and towering figure of Bengali theatre, Girish is shown as a flawed man who acknowledges the compromises he has had to make for theatres, and lives proudly with them.
Subhashree Ganguly’s Binodini is the emotional heart of this section. Her performance carries the hurt and pride of Binodini without ever tipping into melodrama. The betrayal that Binodini faces — selling herself to a wealthy businessman to build a theatre that ultimately erases her contribution, thanks to her own mentor — is heartbreaking. And Subhashree commands the screen with her quiet rebellion. Even in scenes where she plays Chaitanya on stage, Subhashree completely dissolves into the character.
The third timeline takes us further back, to the 15th-16th century, and to the period of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu himself. These scenes are visually the most distant, softened and blurred further to suggest how little we can ever truly know of the past. Dibyojyoti Dutta makes an impressive big-screen debut as Chaitanya. His performance is restrained and human.
What connects these three timelines is the plot — of betrayal and sacrifice, love and loss. Jisshu Sengupta makes a powerful cameo as Nityananda Prabhu, who is trying to piece together the puzzles of Chaitanya’s disappearance.
Lawho Gouranger Naam Rey also comes at a juncture when the world is torn apart by hate, with war and violence gripping several parts of the globe, including India’s backyard. Srijit, through Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, makes a strong statement about the futility of war and bloodshed, urges viewers to shun violence and give love and peace a chance. Chaitanya’s philosophy of love and surrender feels urgent in today’s fractured world.
Music acts as the film’s emotional backbone. Indraadip Dasgupta’s compositions, and recreations of iconic kirtans — featuring voices like Jayati Chakraborty, Kabir Suman, Padma Palash, Shreya Ghoshal, and Arijit Singh — leave a lasting mark.