Khakee The Bengal Chapter review: Another formulaic thriller with low hanging thrills!

Created by Neeraj Pandey, Khakee: The Bengal Chapter, a standalone sequel is an underwhelming follow-up to its predecessor, offering nothing fresh or engaging!

Lights, camera, and action can transform even the mundane into cinematic spectacle. Yet, while storytelling often involves heavy lifting, crafting a thriller centered on the familiar world of cops and gangsters feels more accessible—the tension and intrigue already built into the premise. But that magic seems to have eluded Neeraj Pandey's sequel. A veteran of the genre, who, with Khakee, has ventured into creating a web of state-centric crime sagas, each told through the lens of the criminals and law enforcers who once reigned. However, where Khakee: The Bihar Chapter succeeded in at least narrating a gripping tension, The Bengal Chapter reveals cracks in this fast-paced storytelling technique.

It takes a while to know this but the show set in 2002 Kolkata exploring the dark nexus between politics and crime, led by two notorious elder statesmen of the underworld: politician Barun Roy (Prosenjit Chatterjee) and gangster Bagha Da (Saswata Chatterjee). But they are mere players in the larger story of Sagor (Ritwik Bhowmik) and Ranjit Thakur (Aadil Zafar Khan), a Jai-Veeru-like duo who rise from being Bagha Da’s right-hand men to ruling Kolkata’s underworld—only to meet their inevitable downfall at the hands of IPS officer Arjun Maitra (Jeet). An anti establishment cop who is brought in after his predecessor DSP Saptarishi (Parambrata Chaterjee) gets cut short in his goal to clean the violence off the streets! 

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Pandey, along with co-writers Samrat Chakraborty and director Debatma Mandal, paints a portrait of a Bengal where crime and politics are inseparable. The metaphor of the city’s iconic Lalbazaar's bloodshed aiding in turning kurta’s white aka criminals colluding with politicians—looms large over the series. The concept is undeniably interesting, especially as part of Pandey’s larger effort to look into the socio-political make-up of a state through its violent journey. Yet, the execution falters, reflecting the lazy, low-hanging fruit typical of formulaic television. It’s messy and over-explained, with no sense of timelines, intriguing historical facts or exciting storytelling. 

In its attempt to weave the tactful language of politics into the blood-soaked streets of crime, the show feels like a surface-level treatment of complex themes. It simplifies too much, failing to build depth into its characters or plotlines. From the mystery of the mole within the police force, the rise and fall of Sagor and Ranjit and the smug over smartness of the moralistic IPS Arjun—these could have been rich storylines. Instead, they feel like checkbox items. Even the subplot of organ smuggling seems like a random addition coming out of nowhere. And these cracks only widen with the show’s technical flaws. Sound inconsistencies, choppy editing, and outdated action choreography suggest a production stuck in early 2000s television rather than depicting the era. While I appreciate stripping away the shock value of violence as an intriguing artistic choice, yet the bloodbaths, gunfights, and stabbings fail to evoke any real reaction—even with an excessive body the show left me numb to the supposed brutality. In short, the show has hardly anything going for itself! 

Though where The Bengal Chapter does shine, only briefly, is in its casting of Bengali cinema icons as reflected by the dominating presence of Chatterjee's leading to give Hindi commercialised space a regional authenticity. Yet, after a point even the ensemble feels squandered. Jeet, Ritwik Bhowmik, and Aadil Zafar Khan are trapped under the shadows of Karan Tacker and Avinash Tiwary from The Bihar Chapter, their performances unable to escape the constraints of the show’s tired formula. And Chitrangada Singh’s role as an opposition leader? An afterthought—her character is so underutilized she barely makes a ripple!

Ultimately, Neeraj Pandey’s Khakee: The Bengal Chapter is a prime example of how a potentially gripping thriller can devolve into a hollow exercise in formulaic storytelling. It highlights the broader issue plaguing much of today’s streaming content: the tension between sticking to a proven formula and experimenting with creativity. Unfortunately, this series does neither well. It’s not the nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat thriller it wants to be, nor is it an insightful look at Bengal’s socio-political complexities. Instead, it settles into mediocrity—accessible enough to capture the attention of those casually doom-scrolling, but utterly forgettable. And for anyone paying closer attention , the stale stench of its overused formula—the cops, the gangsters, the political intrigue—quickly wears thin. What could have made Pandey’s state-crime saga even more intriguing makes it fall flatter, leaving me yearning for the days when crime thrillers were genuinely thrilling and thought-provoking! 

Khakee: The Bengal Chapter is currently streaming on Netflix! 

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