Time loops and characters navigating multiple timelines are motifs seldom explored with nuance in Bollywood. While films like Loop Lapeta (2022) or Baar Baar Dekho (2016) toy with this narrative device, it still remains a rarity. The Stree franchise ventured into an intriguing hybrid of horror and comedy, signalling Maddock’s willingness to experiment with genres and storytelling in ways that could engage audiences beyond formulaic conventions. Similarly, Bhool Chuk Maaf (2025) introduces a science fiction premise intertwined with a romantic comedy— its narrative focal point being a time loop that returns Ranjan (Rajkummar Rao) repeatedly to the 29th, before the day of his wedding. Yet this very mechanism and its execution is what paradoxically becomes its Achilles’ heel.
Across his works like City Lights (2014), Gangs of Wasseypur (2012), and Monica O My Darling (2022), Rao does not embody the archetypal invincible figure. Instead, his characters are marked by naivete or awkwardness, self-doubt, at times cowardice and an almost tentative hopefulness. Though sometimes repetitive, his distinctive cinematic sensibility captures the quintessential small-town man— underestimated, yet rising beyond his underdog status. This delicate balance of charm, relatability and resilience not only draws viewers to the screen but often carries the weight of, and redeems, a film’s watchtime.
In Karan Sharma’s screenplay, with additional writing by Haider Rizvi, Ranjan Tiwari is a Banarasi boy in love with Titli (Wamiqa Gabbi). The story begins with the quiet humiliation of the middle-class man, for whom attaining a government job becomes not just an economic solution, but a symbolic currency to purchase dignity. Titli’s affection towards Ranjan is unwavering but conditional—not by her own design, but by her father Brijmohan’s (Zakir Hussain) ultimatum to secure a government job or forget about marrying his beloved.
While Bhool Chuk Maaf (2025) plays with the supernatural device of a time loop to stage its central conflict, it misses a sharper dramatic opportunity embedded in the very texture of its protagonist’s reality: unemployment. Ranjan’s pursuit of a sarkaari naukri is acknowledged but barely explored, treated more like a setup than a central axis. And yet, there is something inherently Sisyphean about the Indian job chase—ritualistic, rigid, and punishingly repetitive, lending itself seamlessly to a time loop narrative. To not lean further into this parallel feels like a sore miss rather than a creative omission.
The richly textured and bustling backdrop of the city and the vibrant wedding, brought to life by cinematographer Sudeep Chatterjee is simultaneously enchanting and overwhelming. When the film pivots to the central conflict—his wedding on the brink, unravelling under metaphysical strain—it feels prematurely foregrounded. Bhool Chuk Maaf leaving the latent anxieties of unemployment underexplored and further bringing in the question of what could go wrong in a Banarasi wedding—feels unjustified, but still promising.
A potted plant tumbles from the terrace top and narrowly misses Ranjan. The next morning sounds identical to the last—mandir bells, radio announcements, family commotion, and with it, the dizzying realisation that time has collapsed into itself. His responses range from comical to desperate: bizarre confrontations with relatives, asking for forgiveness, rebellions and threats to call off the wedding, all futile.
Wamiqa Gabbi’s portrayal of Titli is luminous without being ornamental. Titli is not a mere foil to her circumstances but a resilient negotiator. Ranjan’s entrapment in a time loop becomes less about escaping and more about facing the mirror—with his intentions, and the institution of marriage. Bhool Chuk Maaf introduces Bhagwan Das (Sanjay Mishra), a name that first appeared in Maddock’s Zara Hatke Zara Bachke (2023), then portrayed by Inaamulhaq. Here, he acts as a catalyst, helping Ranjan secure a government job, but not without a price. Ranjan is compelled to pray, interpret the absurd and seek meaning where the narrative withholds logic—shifting the focus from fixing time to fixing intent. Titli holds the film’s emotional gravity. Her anxieties are not framed as obstacles but as insightful reminders to Ranjan that marriage is not an end goal, but a commitment rooted in consistent trust and self-awareness.
Rao’s portrayal of Ranjan remains a steady anchor. His physical humour, though bordering on familiar territory, injects a vital energy that keeps the story engaging amidst the narrative inertia. Yet the screenplay undercuts itself, often over-explaining and over-scoring moments. The conceptual genre-defying framework—promising in its originality—ultimately falters under the weight of uneven storytelling.
Bhool Chuk Maaf’s (2025) endeavour lies in framing human forgetfulness and the weight of repeated mistakes as a form of moral reckoning. Yet, what the film invests in idea, it often compromises in execution, resulting in a screenplay that feels weighed down by its own ambitions. The revival of Love Aaj Kal’s (2009) “Chor Bazaari” as “Chor Bazari Phir Se” is not only tonally dissonant but feels creatively desperate, stripping the original of its cultural texture and repackaging it into a hollow callback. The central conflicts—for all their structural ambition—remain too lukewarm to justify the time loop. Jokes begin overspeaking, desperate to anchor levity, but the effort becomes visible, even laboured, as the narrative progresses.
Despite these major structural missteps, Bhool Chuk Maaf holds on to genuine earnestness. It aspires to break conventional storytelling patterns, and in its flawed persistence, it gestures toward something sincere—an attempt to engage with the complexity of intention, even when the execution is imperfect. Amidst the noise of shifting release dates, platform reshuffles, and erratic promotions, emerges a film that, in its quieter moments, reveals promise. Bhool Chuk Maaf (2025) toys with potential, stumbles in precision, yet manages to faintly entertain.
Sakshi Salil Chavan is a documentary filmmaker and an entertainment writer based in Mumbai.
