Bhooth Bangla, Priyadarshan’s long-awaited reunion with Akshay Kumar, is a classic case of how one of Bollywood’s most successful director-actor pairs can’t get it right without their third musketeer, the writer. Neeraj Vora, who penned the screenplay and dialogues of most Akshay-Priyadarshan past hits, passed away in 2017. Vora, an actor, screenwriter, and filmmaker, was the co-architect of the comedy subgenre popularized by the actor-director duo.Their last collaboration was Bhool Bhulaiyaa (2007), another horror comedy, which went on to spawn a franchise of its own, helmed by Anees Bazmee and starring Kartik Aaryan. Thus, comparisons with Bhooth Bangla was inevitable, given the narrative structure (first half is all comedy with a spattering of horror; second half is all horror with no laughs), the ensemble cast (Rajpal Yadav, Paresh Rawal, and Manoj Joshi were a part of Bhool Bhulaiyaa, while Tabu played a classical dancer in Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2), and even the setting (both films were primarily shot at Chomu Palace, Jaipur).But after watching Bhooth Bangla, I’m happy to confirm it’s nowhere close to Bhool Bhulaiyaa beyond these. I wish it was.Full disclosure: I’m not an avid buff of Bhool Bhulaiyaa either. The gags are drastically better in most other Priyadarshan-Akshay movies. So is their signature chaos and riffing of one quirky character with another. But what saved that horror comedy detour was Vidya Balan’s towering performance as Manjulika. Mercilessly, there’s no such redemption in Bhooth Bangla. Vidya Balan as Manjulika in Bhool Bhulaiyaa.In fact, the horror plot of Bhooth Bangla dives deep into the mytho-horror subgenre instead of bordering somewhere between that and psychological horror like in Bhool Bhulaiyaa. Sure, gurujji Vikram Gokhale’s mumbo-jumbo in the climax was disservice to the mental illness discourse started by the film, but it still had us invested in the myth of Manjulika. The mythmaking takes a backseat in Bhooth Bangla. The narrative oscillates between dumping mythological jargon on the unsuspecting audience to discounting their intelligence by leaving loose ends, imposing suspension of disbelief by keeping them hostile, and exchanging the “Mere Dholna” of this film with an awkwardly filmed dance number featuring a struggling Tabu and a visibly overaged Akshay Kumar.Most of Priyadarshan’s past hits were remakes of Malayalam films, directed either by him, Siddique-Lal, or Fazil. But Bhooth Bangla, thanks to that second half, comes across even more dated. It’s a great opportunity lost because now, the Hindi film industry is technologically equipped with the technology to take supernatural flights of fancy. Bhooth Bangla also attempts that particularly through a thrilling chase sequence featuring Akshay, which is written as well as it’s executed. But the film can’t thrive only on tech. It’s a chariot running like a headless chicken because there’s no sarthi to steer it through.That sarthi was Neeraj Vora. He had the writing chops to translate a Malayalam screenplay into a Hindi one, while also adapting to the culture, the audience, and the times. Even when it came to dialogues, he didn’t just hit Google Translate, but also added a punch at just the right spot, a pause at just the right moment, and a pitch at just the right note. If Akshay was the taal, Priyadarshan the laya, Neeraj Vora was the proverbial sur of every film. He added flesh to Priyadarshan’s skeletal structure, thus allowing Akshay to pull the skin tight.Story continues below this adIt helped that Priyadarshan got introduced to Neeraj Vora as an actor. After spotting him do a memorable scene in Ram Gopal Varma’s Rangeela (1993), Priyadarshan roped him for a small role in his Virasat (1997). Having penned the enduring dialogues of Rangeela, demonstrating his grip over the language of the streets, Vora further proved his writing prowess with Abbas-Mustan’s Baadshah (1999). That made Priyadarshan confident enough to rope him in to write the screenplay of Hera Pheri (2000), the Hindi remake of Siddique-Lal’s Ramji Rao Speaking (1989). Paresh Rawal, Suniel Shetty and Akshay Kumar in a still from Heri Pheri.Placing the film in his familiar turf of the strugglers’ Mumbai, Vora made each character stand out. That followed with Yeh Teraa Ghar Yeh Meraa Ghar (2002), Priyadarshan’s remake of Sanmanassullavarkku Samadhanam (1986), Hungama (2003), adapted from Priyadarshan’s own Malayalam film Poochakkoru Mookkuthi, and Hulchul (2004), based on Siddique-Lal’s Godfather (1991).Even when Priyadarshan adapted the screenplay himself, particularly with the fast-paced theatre-style narrative of Garam Masala (2005), adapted from his Boeing Boeing (1985), it was Vora’s zany one-liners that allowed the impeccable comic timing of Akshay, John Abraham, and Paresh Rawal. It was the same case with Chup Chup Ke (2006), Priyadarshan’s remake of Punjabi House (1998). Those scenes with Rajpal Yadav have evolved into meme gold not because of the peripheral worldbuilding, but because of relatable dialogues that were as universal as specific to the moment. Rajpal Yadav in Chup Chup Ke.To further prove this point, sample all the comedies that Vora had written sans Priyadarshan’s direction — Baadshah, Awaara Paagal Deewana, Deewane Huye Pagal, Golmaal: Fun Unlimited, Fool N Final, and his directorial Phir Hera Pheri. All of them are populated by signature Priyadarshan motifs — ensemble cast with individual quirks, a romantic track at the centre, and a chaotic climax — so much so that the uninitiated might even assume each is a Priyadarshan film, judging the book by its cover.Story continues below this adSecondly, it’s not entirely unfounded to claim that Vora wouldn’t have allowed that regressive, done-to-death horror plot of Bhooth Bangla. He was a screenwriter who not only had his pulse on the now, but also was way ahead of his time. For instance, he wrote the story of Abbas-Mustan’s Ajnabee, also starring Akshay in a negative role, as a narrative based on the practice of wife-swapping back in 2001. Neeraj Vora wrote Ajnabee, Akshay Kumar’s film on wife-swapping.In the same year, he wrote the story of arguably India’s first film on surrogacy — Abbas-Mustan’s Chori Chori Chupke Chupke. And then the story of Rohan Sippy’s Kuch Na Kaho, which revolves around a man’s (Abhishek Bachchan) journey of embracing his love interest (Aishwarya Rai) along with her seven-year-old son from a previous marriage.Thirdly, Neeraj Vora would’ve also secured a tighter screenplay and a less predictable climax. The man has worked with masters of thrillers, Abbas-Mustan, in two of their most popular works of suspense — Baadshah and Ajnabee. He also wrote one of the most gasp-inducing, jaw-dropping suspenseful climaxes of Priyadarshan’s filmography in Bhagam Bhag (2006), another Siddique-Lal remake, of Mannar Mathai Speaking.There have been a very few times that Priyadarshan has been able to crack the Hindi screenplay and dialogues in his Bollywood filmography with a writer other than Neeraj Vora. Among the comedies, there are only Malamaal Weekly (2006) and De Dana Dan (2009), with the latter serving as a sign of the filmmaker’s declining glory in this space. In fact, after the death of Neeraj Vora in 2017, Priyadarshan stopped making Hindi films till this year, with the exception of the forgettable Hungama 2 (2021) on JioHotstar.Story continues below this adAlso Read — Bhoot Bangla Worldwide Box Office Collection Day 5 Live Updates: Priyadarshan’s film nears Rs 100 cr in India, fans call it ‘comeback for Akshay Kumar’The few comic gags that work in Bhooth Bangla seem like regurgitations of some of Neeraj Vora’s best. But the second half is even a truer litmus test of Priyadarshan’s dependence on his late longtime collaborator. Not adapted from any of Priyadarshan’s past works, the horror comedy suffers from an acute existential crisis. There are glimpses of the dependable comic actor that Akshay Kumar once was early on, but by the time the climax strikes, where it’s Akshay Kumar vs Akshay Kumar, his recent streak of vanity projects and saviour complex kick back in. Bhooth Bangla is not exactly dead on arrival, but promptly possessed by the ghost of unoriginality.