‘Killbill Society’: Srijit Mukherji Revisits Mortality and Meaning in a Poetic Sequel to ‘Hemlock Society’

Thirteen years after Hemlock Society made waves with its exploration of death as muse and metaphor, filmmaker Srijit Mukherji returns with a spiritual successor — Killbill Society. The film, featuring a compelling ensemble including Biswanath Basu, Anindya Chatterjee, and Sandipta Sen, continues Mukherji’s signature style of blending existential musings with emotionally resonant storytelling.

"When Srijit Mukherji released Hemlock Society in 2012, he introduced audiences to a world where death was both muse and metaphor. Thirteen years later, Killbill Society arrives as a spiritual sequel, wielding the same existential question: is life worth living after the fall?"

At the heart of the film is Poorna Aich, portrayed by Koushani Mukherjee in what many are calling a career-defining role. Poorna, a young actress on the brink of stardom, finds her life upended when an intimate video goes viral online. Public shaming and psychological trauma follow, leading her to consider suicide.

"Poorna is on the cusp of stardom when an intimate video of her surfaces online, triggering a public shaming campaign that leaves her hollowed and humiliated. Poorna decides to end her life but fails to muster the courage to do so on her own."

Enter Mrityunjoy Kar, played by Parambrata Chattopadhyay — a professional killer who moonlights as a reluctant life coach.

"In walks Mrityunjoy Kar (Parambrata Chattopadhyay), a professional killer with a side gig as a reluctant life coach. If the name sounds familiar, that’s because he’s the evolved reincarnation of Ananda Kar, the enigmatic figure from Hemlock Society. But time has turned him into a wearier, more conflicted man who has seen too much of life."

Mukherji, who has written the screenplay, uses the narrative as a lens to examine modern anxieties — particularly internet-fuelled shame, mental health struggles, and the fading boundaries between privacy and public spectacle.

"In Killbill Society, Srijit Mukherji doesn’t only revisit old themes but also recontextualises them for a generation grappling with internet infamy, public shaming, and the mental health crisis that so often goes ignored."

The film’s tone oscillates between lyrical poignancy and philosophical density.

"The screenplay, penned by Srijit himself, swings between the poetic and the pedantic. At times, the film loses itself in its own wordplay — there are stretches where characters speak in metaphors as if auditioning for a Tagore adaptation. But just as you begin to tire of the self-indulgence, the film pulls you back with moments of raw vulnerability: Poorna struggling to jump off a cliff and Mrityunjoy live-streaming a contract killing case with detached empathy."

Koushani Mukherjee delivers a standout performance, steering clear of melodrama while portraying a woman fractured by fame.

"Koushani Mukherjee is the film’s revelation. Her portrayal of Poorna is layered and lived-in, free from the theatrics one might expect of a starlet character. She captures both the glamour and the grief, the curated Instagram-ready smile and the crumbling soul beneath. Poorna is not a victim — she is a woman haunted by society’s appetite for shame, desperately seeking an exit that feels like justice."

Parambrata Chattopadhyay, known for his consistency, brings depth to Mrityunjoy — a man hardened by life but not immune to compassion.

"Parambrata, one of the most dependable actors in Bengali cinema, slips into the shoes of Mrityunjoy with effortless ease. His transformation from the animated Ananda of Hemlock Society to the more grounded, emotionally burdened Mrityunjoy is both believable and touching."

Biswanath Basu, in a scene-stealing supporting role as Pet Kata Shaw, offers moments of levity amid the film’s heavier undertones.

"Biswanath Basu as Pet Kata Shaw, a gangster with an unexpected love for ‘family-centric’ films, lights up the screen every time he appears."

The technical craft of the film also deserves mention. Indranath Marick’s cinematography beautifully captures the moody contrasts of Kolkata and North Bengal, while Indraadip Dasgupta’s background score complements the emotional landscape with sensitivity.

"Indranath Marick’s cinematography moves fluidly between the neon-soaked underbelly of Kolkata to the monsoon-heavy melancholy of North Bengal. Indraadip Dasgupta’s background score music does swell, but it does so with restraint, never hijacking the moment but underlining it."

The soundtrack, composed by Ranajoy Bhattacharjee, Tamalika Golder, and Anupam Roy, is both evocative and purposeful.

"Even the songs — composed by Ranajoy Bhattacharjee, Tamalika Golder, and Anupam Roy — provide a much-needed breather during emotionally intense moments, while taking the narrative forward."

What ultimately distinguishes Killbill Society is its philosophical core — a deep meditation on the value of life amid despair.

"What sets Killbill Society apart from other films dealing with mental health and public disgrace is its refusal to treat life as an afterthought. In the end, this is a love story — not between two people, but between a person and the idea of hope. Mrityunjoy, who begins as a hired hand, becomes an unexpected catalyst for Poorna’s reawakening. Their connection is not romantic in the conventional sense, but deeply intimate, bound by a shared understanding of despair and the faint shimmer of possibility that lies beyond it."

Despite its occasional narrative indulgences, the film’s philosophical ambition feels earned.

"That said, Killbill Society occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own philosophy. The pacing in the first half wavers, with some scenes overstaying their welcome. Mukherji, always a fan of literary flourishes, leans a bit too heavily on his signature blend of clever dialogue and visual symbolism. At times, the film seems more interested in showcasing its ideas than advancing the plot. But these indulgences feel earned, for the most part, and rarely detract from the impact."

The film concludes on a quietly powerful note — not with dramatic resolutions, but with the dignified offering of a second chance.

"The ending, much like Hemlock Society, opts for hope — not as a saccharine resolution but as a hard-fought, almost defiant choice. There is no grand redemption, no dramatic reversal of fortune. Instead, what Killbill Society offers is something more nuanced: the quiet, persistent belief that even in our most broken moments, we are worthy of second chances."