Director: Kamaleshwar Mukherjee

Starring: Swastika Mukherjee, Ananya Chatterjee, Bipul Patra, Neil Mukherjee

Moss, Bangla Hoichoi’s harrowing new streaming web series, offers something different from what is promised in the trailer that will make you believe that this is a story about the sexual tension between the mother of three children of Swastika Mukherjee in middle age and their new youth, a guest with a paid baby (Bipul Patra). What else, please, should you expect, but some acceptably streamed version of MILF porn, when a trailer, strategically, inserts a scene in which Mukherjee and the boy collide, resulting in both crashing into awkward blushes? It’s a tragedy that the actual series (created by Kamaleshwar Mukherjee) ends elsewhere entirely – a social thriller about a psychotic weirdo looking for motherly love and a housewife who wants to fill the void created by her own two sons – but one never completely misses it. and his sexual suggestibility. The result is three and a half hours, five episodes that can’t decide if they want to title or preach: the sexual tension between the two can kill you.

It certainly kills Mukherjee’s cat, whose crime is simply that she comes in her way in the hallway of their house, which provokes in her a jokingly affectionate, figurative reaction – it would mean something like “If you keep coming to my feet, one day I will stumble and fall and die ‘. But our psycho killer could be fucking doesn’t even understand it, let alone have a sense of humor (because he’s … psychotic). He will remove anyone who poses the slightest threat to Mukherjee, whom he sees as a real replacement for his own dead mother (Ananya Chatterjee), with whom he continues to talk in his head, as some unbearable, pretentious version of Vikram-Betaal.

His second victim is Mukherjee’s daughter, who desperately tries to hit him and at one point accuses her own mother of sabotaging her chances with him (and with good reason: she spends an unusually long time drinking tea with him in his room; it is shown that he senses her presence outside the bathroom while she is bathing). Mukherjee blames her back for her loose behavior with the boy. Wherever he rested, Freud turned to his grave.

Freud’s underwater current is compounded by the fact that the paid guest is her son’s old assistant from school. As a child, he was routed by disturbing images of his monster father torturing his mother in a hellish room where he performed violent BDSM on other women in gas masks while shouting gems such as “The animal needs a woman from an animal.” to be his sex slave. This could do two things for the child: turn it into a rescue complex for the mother’s figure and plant in it seeds from his father’s fetishist tendencies. Joke aside, this could be fertile ground for riveting (or two-character research); instead, we have an actor walking around with a ghostly smile with all the charm of a Lokhandwala model, in a show that might have been more fun if he had actually followed the madness offered in the trailer and gone all the way.



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