How not to make a Masud Rana film, again

"An incredible, daredevil spy of Bangladesh Counter Intelligence. He travels the globe on secret missions. His life is amazing. His movements are mysterious, strange. A heart that is a blend of the tender and the tough, unforgiving yet beautiful. Alone. He attracts everyone but forms no lasting bonds. Wherever he encounters injustice, oppression, and wrong, he fights back. Every step he takes is shadowed by danger, fear, and the risk of death."   

For sixty years, those few lines have lived rent-free in the heads of generations of Bangla readers. It's hard to top such an introduction for a fictional character. Masud Rana is not merely a fictional spy; he is perhaps the most enduring literary action hero this country has ever produced. Long before Bangladesh had global celebrities, long before Netflix and streaming services brought the world to our phones, Masud Rana carried readers across continents, into secret bases, political conspiracies, and impossible adventures. And, of course, he has a diehard fan base, from my father to me, spanning over six decades. 

Stepping into a packed, nearly sold-out screening of 'Masud Rana' at the Bashundhara Star Cineplex during the Eid holidays, I felt the weight of decades of collective fan anticipation. Unlike a casual cinema attendee, I carried the heavy expectations shared by generations of enthusiasts. However, keeping in mind the disappointing 2023 cinematic adaptation, 'MR-9: Do or Die', my personal expectations were understandably muted—and the film didn't do much to change that. 

Before discussing what went wrong, it is only fair to begin with what worked.

The biggest positive is Russell Rana himself. Physically, he looks the part. The height is there. The physique is there. The facial structure is there. Meeting him at the theatre, he also came across as a genuinely pleasant and humble person. Casting-wise, I can see what the filmmakers were aiming for. They scouted from a talent-hunt show, and it shows. He needs considerably more training, particularly in dialogue delivery, screen presence, and movement though.

Puja Cherry Roy also deserves credit. She clearly put in the work. Whatever issues exist with the script's treatment of her character Sohana Chowdhury, Puja committed to the action sequences and choreography. Her fight scenes are among the cleaner parts of the film. It genuinely looks like she trained for the role rather than simply showing up for it.

Sayeeda Tithi as Captain Nabanita was serviceable as well. She needs more polish as a performer, but she carried her scenes competently enough. 

One surprisingly welcome decision was keeping Rana's parents' death relatively canonical. Unlike MR-9: Do or Die, this version resisted the temptation to completely reinvent one of the most established pieces of Masud Rana lore. 

And finally, the title track. Using text derived from the iconic Masud Rana introductory flap was a genuinely smart touch. For a few moments, it reminded viewers why they fell in love with the character in the first place.

Unfortunately, that feeling does not last. The film's first major mistake arrives within minutes. The opening fight scene lacks impact, lacks confidence, lacks purpose, and most importantly lacks the sense of occasion that should accompany the arrival of such a legendary character. Front the get-go, Rana's character flaws become evident. He comes across as a flirt (and a poor one), unserious, and carefree person whose opening line to every girl he comes across as "You are so beautiful." 

And it shows that this film does not seem to understand who Masud Rana actually is. Masud Rana is not merely a man who punches people. He is not simply a handsome intelligence officer. He is confident. He is charming. He is the kind of man who can walk into a room full of enemies and make everyone else feel uncomfortable. He is a ladies' man, sure; but he has the classy aura around him. The Russell Rana we see on screen never quite becomes that person.

The film does not seem to understand who Masud Rana actually is. This is not merely a bad adaptation. It is an adaptation that repeatedly ignores the strengths of the material it is adapting.

The fault does not entirely lie with the actor. Much of it originates in the screenplay and direction. The dialogue is painfully awkward throughout. The dialouges are poor, the screenplay is poorer and the dialogue delivery of most characters is just awful. Conversations sound stiff. Emotional scenes become unintentionally comedic. Random English phrases appear and disappear without purpose. Dubbing frequently feels disconnected from what is happening on screen. At several points, the audio mix becomes so strange that voices seem to echo independently of their surroundings.

Then comes the script. Or perhaps more accurately, whatever happened to the script.

The film desperately wants to be a globe-trotting spy thriller, but it never establishes coherent stakes. The narrative wanders from one event to another without creating tension. There is no urgency in the plot. And until the final half of the film, the film has no clear stake. Scenes happen because the screenplay needs them to happen, not because they logically follow from previous events.

The central conspiracy involving the destruction of three ports is particularly baffling. The mechanics make little sense. The motivations make even less sense. Characters repeatedly solve problems through information or abilities that seemingly materialise from nowhere. 

At one point, I genuinely felt the screenplay had forgotten events that occurred fifteen minutes earlier. 

Logic eventually leaves the building altogether.

One recurring question haunted me throughout the screening:

Why? Why invent all this? Why reinvent characters? Why create entirely new plot mechanics? Why write original spy-thriller material when you already possess sixty years of bestselling spy-thriller source material?

This remains the most frustrating aspect of the entire film.

Qazi Anwar Hussain spent decades building an extraordinarily detailed fictional universe. Major General Rahat Khan has detailed descriptions. Professor Kabir Chowdhury has detailed descriptions. Their personalities, appearances, habits, and histories are already established.

Yet the film repeatedly abandons these foundations in favour of weaker alternatives.

The most painful casualty is Professor Kabir Chowdhury.

For generations of readers, Kabir Chowdhury represented one of the most memorable antagonistic forces in the series. Here he is reduced to something bordering on parody. Gazi Rakayet, a talented actor in his own right, is given very little to work with. The result is a character who looks less like a terrifying intellectual adversary and more like someone who accidentally wandered in from an entirely different film.

The less said about the bizarre Burmese bar sequences, the better.

I nearly fell out of my chair when a Burmese agent started reciting Bidrohi.

That was certainly a creative choice. Not necessarily a good one. Just a choice.

The makers ruined the iconic character of Sohana Chowdhury for no reason. If they wanted such a character, there are plenty in the lore already. Why invent Nabanita when you have perfectly fine characters like Rupa? And if you want a canonical Sohana (Nabanita is basically Sohana from the books), why reinvent her role? 

The action sequences suffer from similar inconsistency. Some individual fights are competently choreographed, particularly Puja Cherry's moments, but the larger action set-pieces often feel incoherent. Geography becomes confusing. Cause and effect disappear. Characters teleport emotionally and physically across scenes. And there's one dance scene in between a serious fight. Why? 

Technically, the production also struggles. The CGI frequently appears unfinished. As one viewer has famously critiqued, "A five-year-old can make better CGI." Visual effects look dated. Even preliminary research shortcomings become obvious in multiple scenes. Sound design and dubbing often feel mismatched. Suspension of disbelief becomes increasingly difficult to maintain. 

This is not merely a bad adaptation. It is an adaptation that repeatedly ignores the strengths of the material it is adapting.

Masud Rana deserved better. Qazi Anwar Hussain deserved better. The readers who kept the character alive for six decades deserved better.

The saddest part is that the ingredients were all there. A promising lead actor. A committed female lead. A beloved literary universe. An audience willing to fill cinema halls during Eid.

As I walked out of the theatre, I found myself thinking about something producer Abdul Aziz said before release. He confidently announced that if viewers disliked the film, they could send in their ticket and get their money back.

Mr Aziz, I appreciate your confidence. I would now like to respectfully enquire about the refund procedure. I want my money back.