Aakhri Sach Review: The Aakhri Sach is a perplexing blend of true-life horror and crime drama that has gone astray. That means it’s not good, oh no. It’s like that! And, initially, Robby Grewal (who appeared promising as the director) and his writer, Saurav Day, have a good thing going: a family in Old Delhi committing mass suicide.
Wait! Aren’t these the same deaths that happened in Burari? And didn’t Netflix create an excellent three-part documentary, “House of Secrets: The Burari Deaths,” about that tragedy two years ago? This fictionalised version of the horrific optional mass murder in Delhi is similar and not as intense as it aspires to be. It’s like making a very bland chickpea curry without enough salt.
If the truth be told, and that’s what this series aims to do, the Aakhri Sach is utterly pointless and unnecessary. By the time I could figure out how many ‘A’s and ‘N’s are in Tamanna’s name, the series had already concluded.
If jogs your memory, on June 30, 2018, headlines were made by a family in Delhi’s Burari neighbourhood committing mass suicide. How could so many members of a single-family consent to end their lives together?
The solution presented in this series is not only far-fetched but also irrelevant. The Aakhri Sach begins with Tamanna (I hope I got that right), an undercover police officer in a club, who’s out to catch a credit card scammer, which seems light years away from the Burari case, like Boston from Barabanki.
How did the creators of this series come up with such an unfitting introduction for the female lead? Following that, the Burari case is a concoction of facts and some gruesome fictional brainwaves that seem far-fetched from the sidewalk crime literature. In comparison to the suspicious individuals involved in the mass suicide, the audience caught for the lack of concrete evidence is much higher, much like those who have a valid reason to be included.
Even for a six-episode series, the Aakhri Sach limps and wheezes under the weight of its frivolity. It’s almost like a game of identifying the suspect in each episode, each more unlikely than the other. It doesn’t lead to much, except for ostentatious displays, underdeveloped characters, and erratic writing.
The Aakhri Sach heavily relies on atmospheric pressure to create a terrifying environment – cyclic close-ups of bubbling cauldrons in the ordinary Delhi home, hinting at the extraordinary. But apart from Abhishek Banerjee’s gruesome performance, there’s nothing else here to draw our attention. What could have been done with more emphasis?
As for Ms. Bhatia, she seems to be trying to shed her glamorous image. But the glamorous plumage won’t leave her alone.