Shoktir Lorai

50% man, 50% machine, 100% nano.

Tremble, rascals! You will not escape Banglar Robocop’s just punishment!

Bangladesh may well be one of the poorest countries in the world, but it is nonetheless rich in a film industry that rivals its Indian and Pakistani big brothers in the field of uninhibited plagiarism. In Dhallywood, the characters revile each other by turning theatrically in front of the public (the Pakistani touch), songs, dances and family dramas are part of the compulsory specifications, and the great American hits are copiously repped. With this Shoktir Lorai (which in Bengali means “A struggle for power”), we are going to discuss a new cult work by director Iftekar Jahan, a kind of Bangladeshi Bruno Mattei, who here tackles the Robocop by Paul Verhoeven with, as always, this mixture of touching candor, system D and total absence of complexes in matters of intellectual property. Everything we love.

Dying in a nanar is an art.


They are beautiful, my Bangladeshi minions!

Come closer, come closer! Special promo on the mustache, ladies and gentlemen!

The Banglar Lover head to service slaps.

As in a good Banglar Death Wish, Bangladesh is in the grip of an unprecedented crime wave. The proof, you can no longer sing and dance with your little family on the beach without being attacked by mustachioed thugs with mullet cuts. Meanwhile, a mad scientist, Doctor Mola, is carrying out nanar experiments in his nanar lab. His assistant, Doctor Jahan, witnesses a murder and goes to denounce the assassins to the police. To put pressure on him, the bandits take his wife and daughter hostage. The kidnapping turns tragic when his granddaughter is killed by the villain in front of our hero, who is in turn riddled with bullets. His wife, who had the presence of mind to faint, then brings her dying husband’s body back to Doctor Mola’s laboratory. The good doctor then engages in a nanard operation and transforms his assistant into… Banglar Robocop !

The science of the future as seen by the visionary Iftekar Jahan.

The good guys before the tragedy. So carefree.

God save the queen Munmun, Iftekar Jahan’s muse, here in the role of Madame Jahan (did the director have a crush on her? Were they married in real life? Mystery).

A good bad guy is first of all a face that only bad guys can have.

A good villain is also an interior decoration that throws.

A saucepan on his head, pieces of scrap metal taped all over his body, a completely bewildered look, a most comical arthritic gait… actor Danny Sidak is a prodigiously ridiculous Robocop. Despite the fact that Dr. Jahan seems to have lost several dozen IQ points and now has the most limited conversation, Mrs. Jahan does not seem at all unhappy with the change in her husband. It must be said that now he obeys her finger and eye, and it is now he who does the housework, Mrs. Jahan ordering her cyborg husband to clean the streets of Dhaka with a kärcher. And our tin vigilante to thrash gangsters in the most hilarious way, chasing and catching young thugs while moving at 1 km per hour. It must also be said that his new robotic nature does not handicap our hero to the point of preventing him from sketching a frozen dance step when Madame begins to sing and dance lovingly with Banglar Robocop in a sequence crossing all the limits of kitsch.

Between a squeele cut with a handgun…

…and a beating of rapists…


…Banglar Robocop takes a karaoke break.

1. Serve the public
2. Protect the innocent
3. Enforce the law
4. Sing and dance all over the beach

However, all of this is not to the liking of the villain, a mustachioed underworld godfather, who decides to kidnap Doctor Mola’s wife and daughter, and strap them to nanard electric chairs. The gangster thus seeks to oblige the nice scientist to transform his young mistress into an invincible woman-cyborg, capable of stopping bullets with her forearms like wonder woman (or as Catman) and slaughter defenseless innocents without mercy and pouting.

The villain and his sexy bitch, before the robotization of the latter.

The Bangladeshi Terminator.

Satisfied with his Machiavellian plan, the villain kidnaps Madame Jahan a second time to compel Banglar Robocop to face his Banglar Lady Terminator. To accentuate the decisive nature of this clash of titans, the director first films the two adversaries advancing very, very long towards each other in a very slow-motion firefighting, before having them exchange donuts Banglar Trinita, to break all the decor and hit each other with foam tree trunks. This Homeric fight (tendency simpsons) will end in the most spectacular way with the combination of a volcano stock-shot and a crap special effect.

Banglar Robocop and Lady Terminator begin by facing each other in a contest “to who will widen the eyes the most”.

A good point for the film: the Terminator is really struggling like an animal to energize the final fight.

Iftekar Jahan does not forget to photocopy several passages from Verhoeven’s masterpiece. In particular the cult scene where Robocop neutralizes a gang of rapists on a highway rest area by shooting one of the attackers in the crotch through the skirt of the girl taken hostage. Or the scene where Robocop rediscovers the memory of his past, here by going to his child’s grave, which provokes a musical flashback followed by a vengeful manly bellow from Danny Sidak. As in banglar superman and in Banglar King Kong, the director does not hesitate either to steal a few shots from the Hollywood footage he is inspired by (here, the iconic shot where Robocop pulls his big gun out of his robotic armor). And it goes without saying that the looting also extends to the sound domain, the music of Supermanof Saturday night feverof black rainofOnce upon a Time in the West and of For a fistful of dollars also being involved.

The Bangladeshi cousin of the Robo Warrior, the Hong Kong cyborg from “Robo Vampire”.

“…”“…”“…”_ “Yes, hello doctor Mola? I’m calling because my husband seems to have a circuit failure. His “facial expression” function doesn’t seem to work anymore.”

_ “Ah, wait, I think he’s waking up…”_ “BEEEEEUUUUAAAAAAAAAARRRRHHH!!!”_ “It’s good doctor, it was only a false alarm. Excuse me for having disturbed you.”

Here is another very beautiful Bangladeshi rip-off, which makes you want to explore more popular cinema from this region, even if I must warn you that you have to wait an hour for our hero to be changed into Banglar Robocop. To be patient during this somewhat sluggish first half, we are treated to a few typically Bangladeshi fights and a scene à la Impossible mission, in which the nice young cop takes off his mask and reveals himself to be the old bad guy in disguise, despite being a good twenty pounds heavier, with a double chin and a much more massive head (go for it, Tom Cruise!).

“Gneeeeehehehe!”

“Transformation!”

“Pikabouh!”

Demonic, the villain launches into a ruthless histrionic act, which paralyzes his victims.

And then as soon as the SF part arrives, the nanometer suddenly threatens to implode: it is from there that the celebrations really begin. Another world of one-dimensional characters, where when you have been taken hostage with your parents by a psychopathic mobster, you start to sing languidly with your kidnapper. In short, this film is a gem.

And of course, like any Bangladeshi family show, the film respects its quota of ultra-violence and hemoglobin.

“This role is the consecration of my career. This visor saucepan reinforces my charisma, I feel it.”

Shoktir Lorai – The Chronicle of Nanarland