DIRECTOR: Bijukumar Damodaram
STARRING: Ritabhari Chakraborty, Prakash Bare, Sine Boboro, John Sike
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 38 minutes
LANGUAGE: Tok Pisin, Hindi, Bengali, English
PLOT: Romila, Anand, and their guide Papa Buka travel through Papua New Guinea’s remote villages, uncovering the vivid memories of World War II veterans who once fought against Japan, while confronting unexpected challenges along the way.
GENRE: Drama
FILMING LOCATION: Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea
To check out all previous submissions for Papua New Guinea, click HERE.
STARRING: Ritabhari Chakraborty, Prakash Bare, Sine Boboro, John Sike
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 38 minutes
LANGUAGE: Tok Pisin, Hindi, Bengali, English
PLOT: Romila, Anand, and their guide Papa Buka travel through Papua New Guinea’s remote villages, uncovering the vivid memories of World War II veterans who once fought against Japan, while confronting unexpected challenges along the way.
GENRE: Drama
FILMING LOCATION: Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea
To check out all previous submissions for Papua New Guinea, click HERE.
FILM REVIEW:
(This review contains spoilers.)
“Have the indigenous people been properly recognized in any world history?"
Papa Buka begins in Port Moresby, where Romila and Anand, two historians determined to uncover overlooked chapters of World War II, set out with their driver on a journey that will change more than just their understanding of history. Their path leads them deep into Papua New Guinea, where they encounter Papa Buka, a charismatic guide who becomes the bridge between their academic pursuit and the lived experiences of the people they hope to meet. The film quickly establishes itself as a drama less about travel and more about the emotional weight of remembrance, drawing the audience into the complexity of shared memory.
By the time the group arrives in a remote village, the focus shifts from anticipation to immersion. Here, stories of the war are not dusty facts on a page but vivid recollections carried in the voices of elderly veterans and their families. The researchers’ initial detachment slowly erodes as they are confronted with accounts of courage, sacrifice, and trauma, narratives shaped by geography and survival. What emerges is not simply testimony about battles with Japanese forces, but a portrait of a community still marked by a conflict that stretched across oceans yet left permanent imprints in the lives of its people.
The film succeeds through its intimate focus on character. Romila and Anand are portrayed not as heroic seekers of truth but as fallible outsiders, sometimes hesitant, sometimes overly analytical, yet ultimately moved by what they encounter. The driver, though understated, brings moments of reflection and humanity, often observing with a sensitivity that the researchers themselves struggle to maintain. Papa Buka, however, is the heart of the film. His warmth, patience, and deep connection to the land and its people give the story both its grounding and its poetry, making him more than just a guide, he is the soul through which the film breathes.
Papa Buka is about the fragile but vital act of remembering. It asks what happens when history is not archived in books but carried in living memory, and what responsibility outsiders have when encountering it. By anchoring a global conflict in the specificity of one village and one guide, the film underscores that remembrance is not only about preserving the past, it is about acknowledging the humanity within it. In doing so, Papa Buka becomes less a war story and more a meditation on memory, connection, and the enduring need to listen.
(This review contains spoilers.)
“Have the indigenous people been properly recognized in any world history?"
Papa Buka begins in Port Moresby, where Romila and Anand, two historians determined to uncover overlooked chapters of World War II, set out with their driver on a journey that will change more than just their understanding of history. Their path leads them deep into Papua New Guinea, where they encounter Papa Buka, a charismatic guide who becomes the bridge between their academic pursuit and the lived experiences of the people they hope to meet. The film quickly establishes itself as a drama less about travel and more about the emotional weight of remembrance, drawing the audience into the complexity of shared memory.
By the time the group arrives in a remote village, the focus shifts from anticipation to immersion. Here, stories of the war are not dusty facts on a page but vivid recollections carried in the voices of elderly veterans and their families. The researchers’ initial detachment slowly erodes as they are confronted with accounts of courage, sacrifice, and trauma, narratives shaped by geography and survival. What emerges is not simply testimony about battles with Japanese forces, but a portrait of a community still marked by a conflict that stretched across oceans yet left permanent imprints in the lives of its people.
The film succeeds through its intimate focus on character. Romila and Anand are portrayed not as heroic seekers of truth but as fallible outsiders, sometimes hesitant, sometimes overly analytical, yet ultimately moved by what they encounter. The driver, though understated, brings moments of reflection and humanity, often observing with a sensitivity that the researchers themselves struggle to maintain. Papa Buka, however, is the heart of the film. His warmth, patience, and deep connection to the land and its people give the story both its grounding and its poetry, making him more than just a guide, he is the soul through which the film breathes.
Papa Buka is about the fragile but vital act of remembering. It asks what happens when history is not archived in books but carried in living memory, and what responsibility outsiders have when encountering it. By anchoring a global conflict in the specificity of one village and one guide, the film underscores that remembrance is not only about preserving the past, it is about acknowledging the humanity within it. In doing so, Papa Buka becomes less a war story and more a meditation on memory, connection, and the enduring need to listen.
