Watching a film at home and seeing it in a theater are two vastly different experiences.

A movie that seems over-the-top or even cringeworthy in the privacy of your home can transform into an exhilarating experience within the lively atmosphere of a crowded cinema. The shared laughter and energy of an audience can amplify the enjoyment of even a seemingly shallow film.

Conversely, a film that resonated deeply with you at home, prompting introspection and reflection, might lose its luster on the big screen. The very elements that made it captivating in a personal setting could become tedious or unengaging when magnified in a large theater.

I realized this long ago, back in my early university days. At that time, I was introduced abruptly to the world of esteemed filmmakers by one of my intellectual cousins—”Aatel”, in plain words.

He made it his mission to refine my cinematic palate, steering me away from '90s action blockbusters like Conair, The Rock, and Face Off, and guiding me towards the works of Andrei Tarkovsky, Abbas Kiarostami, and Jean-Luc Godard.

He didn't just make me watch their films on his old Windows 2000 desktop; he also took me to places like the Russian Cultural Centre and Aziz Super Market, where screenings of these acclaimed auteurs were held sporadically.

I distinctly recall one incident where my incessant questions during a screening at Aziz Market's makeshift cinema led to me being politely asked to leave by none other than renowned actor Gazi Rakaet, who was seated beside me.

Another memorable occasion took place during a screening of a film by Japanese director Yasujiru Ozu at the Russian Cultural Center. I found myself so thoroughly bored that I slipped away and headed to my cousin's nearby home, collapsing into sleep on his bed without a second thought.

To my surprise, I later discovered that my film enthusiast cousin had done the same – he had returned home early to catch up on sleep, unwittingly sharing the bed with me while I slept.

My cousin's efforts ultimately paid off. He did indeed succeed in transforming my movie preferences. Now, at 40, I find solace and escape in the films of directors like Nuri Bilge Ceylan and Abbas Kiarostami. Ironically, I can no longer tolerate most action films, with the exception of the Jason Bourne series, for more than half an hour.

However, I am not sure I would enjoy watching Ceylan's Winter Sleep – my all-time favorite film – in a theater anymore.

I now prefer the intimate setting of my home for films like this, with the freedom to pause, rewind, and research any details that pique my interest. A thought-provoking film requires breathing room for introspection and contemplation, allowing for a deeper appreciation of the nuances crafted by a masterful director.

For a theater experience, I prefer, just like another regular film lover, a big spectacle. Once a while, I don’t mind immersing myself into the eye-zapping sensory-overload spectacles on the big screen.

Cinemas possess this unique allure, and even in this era of abundant streaming services, the vibrant, life-size drama and action on a massive screen cannot be replicated. The sheer scale of the spectacle creates a larger-than-life intimacy that can only be experienced in a theater.

"Toofan" is a movie tailor-made for this theater experience. In Bollywood lingo, which our Dhallywood has readily embraced, "Toofan" is a classic "Masala" film – a perfect Eid holiday release. With extra cash, time, and a desire for escapism, people are more likely to leave their worries behind and indulge in a few hours of pure fantasy within the darkened confines of a theater.

"Toofan" lures audiences with its lavish presentation, flawed yet unmatched in Bangladesh to date. A seasoned film critic could delve into the details of the movie's color grading and camera work, which, in my opinion, were its strongest elements, along with Shakib Khan's unprecedented look and demeanor.

Granted, the storyline is laughable, logic is virtually nonexistent, and the portrayal of law and order is severely imbalanced. However, as a commercial film, its primary goal is to draw in a large audience and create buzz, not to stimulate critical thinking.

I had a fun time watching "Toofan" in a packed theater. While it wasn't my personal best Bangla cinema’s “hall experience,” which I reserved for "Hawa" and "Monpura," it was still enjoyable, especially considering I rarely sit through an entire movie in a theater. However, I stayed for the whole of "Toofan" and I had sustained.

I won't delve into a full review of "Toofan" as journalist Towheed Feroze's honest assessment in Prothom Alo resonated with me. I will simply add that your support, in the form of a movie ticket, could encourage Dhallywood to refine and improve upon works like "Toofan," paving the way for more high-quality productions.

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