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Just a few years ago, the air-conditioned Cineplexes in Dhaka and Chattogram were filled with the explosions of Hollywood blockbusters. Marvel superheroes, swinging from webs and armed with vibranium shields, ruled the big screen. Audiences stood in long queues for Avengers, Fast & Furious, or the latest Mission Impossible. Local films, in comparison, were either absent or relegated to daytime slots. But a quiet storm has been brewing.
In recent months, films like Tandob, Borbad, Jongli, Insaf, Hawa, and Utsob have emerged-not just as local favourites but as box office dominators.
These Bangladeshi productions are pushing English-language films to the background, especially in major Cineplexes. And the shift isn't just statistical; it's emotional, cultural, and visceral. Is this a shift we are witnessing? Or the shift has already taken place? Are Bangladeshi films taking the silver screens from Hollywood? If yes, how did it happen?
Rise of a hero whose lover is dead, not asking but snatching justice
Bangladeshi films may have found their formula-having a connection with South Asian narrative but refined with Bangladeshi context. At the centre of it all is Shakib Khan, the megastar who has almost single-handedly redefined the local cinema, carrying the Bangla film industry on his shoulders for two decades.
Take Tandob, where he storms a media house demanding justice, not with a petition but with fists and fire. The scenes are chaotic, gloriously flamboyant, and unapologetically heroic. There's violence, yes, but there's also a rage that feels familiar to many viewers-rage against injustice, corruption, and a system that seems deaf to the cries of the commoner.
"I never thought I'd be cheering for a man breaking glass windows and beating up politicians," laughs Sumaiya Islam, a university student who is a film enthusiast. "But when Shakib Khan does it, it feels like someone's doing what we all wish we could."
This hero is no longer the poor villager who has a rich girlfriend who sings his way to success. He's rich, furious, emotionally scarred, and unafraid to burn down the system if needed.
Often, his violence is justified by a tragic love story. In Jongli, the protagonist has a family trauma and heartbreak. In Borbad, again, it's a heartbreak story turned into revenge. And these tragedies trigger unrelenting male rage.
The shift from imported thrill to local fire
Hollywood still releases films in Bangladesh. Deadpool & Wolverine, Inside Out 2, and the latest Spider-Man reboots make their way into Cineplexes. The screens are still bright, and the effects are explosive. But somehow, the magic is fading.
Mizanur Rahman Rafi is a film enthusiast who views the rise of Bangla cinema from a Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) perspective. He says Dhaka doesn't offer so many activities today. So, watching a movie at the cinema is an option. And if the movie got trending on social media. The fear of missing out affects our emotions. I guess- Hawa, Poran and recent Taandob, Utsob are the prime examples of this shift."
Faria Tasneem, a Marvel fan, sees it differently. She says, "Yes, I love the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but I know their legacy. I know what they can offer. On the other hand, films like Tandob surprised me."
Hollywood, for all its spectacle, has grown predictable. Franchises dominate.
Nabil Tajwar, a student of Mass Communication and Journalism at DU, feels the same shift. He says, "Recent local releases are drawing larger audiences than many English movies. This shift shows a growing interest in homegrown content and storytelling. Movies like Toofan, Borbaad and Taandob signal a bold new direction for Bangladesh's film industry."
Every superhero is part of a larger universe; every film leads to a sequel, and every villain is redeemed or reused. The formula, once thrilling, now feels mechanical. Bangladeshi films, in contrast, are messy. They're inconsistent. But they're alive.
A familiar language, a local flame
When people watch KGF or Jawan, they don't just watch a story-they watch a fantasy of justice, pride, and revenge wrapped in high drama. Bangladeshis used to get that thrill from Indian imports either in cinema halls or through OTT platforms. But import restrictions and shifting tastes have opened a gap. Local directors are now stepping in to fill it.
The narrative is reminiscent of Shah Rukh Khan's Jawan, where a man hijacks a metro train not for personal gain but to force the government to address systemic corruption. The hero asks for voting rights there; here, in Tandob, he asks for the rule of law.
Yes, the glorification of violence and machoism is deeply entertained. The hyper-masculine saviour archetype leaves little room for nuance or female agency. But audiences are not necessarily watching these films for ideological balance-they're watching for catharsis. For emotion. For drama. For escape.
Are Hollywood films losing ground?
Look at the Cineplex schedule on any weekend. Just two years ago, Hollywood blockbusters would dominate half the screens. Today, a new film starring Shakib Khan premieres on multiple prime-time shows, including Midnight, marking a historic event. Audiences from diverse areas, such as Banani, Gulshan, and Dhanmondi, are booking tickets for Jongli and Borbad.
The trend isn't just happening in the capital. Local films are drawing crowds in numbers that were once reserved for international hits. The appeal is partly cultural-dialogues that feel familiar, societal issues that resonate, and characters that reflect genuine frustrations and social media trends.
While Hollywood dazzles with scale and technology, it can feel distant. Bangladeshi films, in contrast, even with their exaggerated drama and over-the-top action, feel close.
Still, not everything about the shift is to be celebrated unquestioningly.
The glorification of violence as a means of justice is a troubling trend. Female characters in these films are often reduced to plot devices-either victims or martyrs to fuel the hero's rage. And the dialogue frequently teeters on the edge of crudeness, aimed more at thrill than thought.
As Bangladeshi films dominate screen time and audience hearts, the question isn't whether they'll continue to compete with English films-it's whether they can evolve.
Can they maintain their momentum without losing their soul? Can they blend commercial appeal with meaningful narratives? Can they portray justice without glorifying rage?
There's a hunger in Bangladeshi cinema now. And for the first time in a long while, it's not about catching up to Hollywood. It's about telling stories that matter to us. Loud, flawed, and fearless.
mohd.imranasif@gmail.com