Dhurandhar

The soul of Dhurandhar is rooted in quiet deception. Wait, I’m talking about Hamza Ali Mazari’s (Ranveer Singh) mission. He’s a spy operating across borders in this 214-minute film, and given this running time and the number of characters, motivations and political threads it handles, this film could very easily have collapsed into something rambling and frustrating. But it doesn’t, largely thanks to a smart structural decision: chapter segregation. The eight chapters keep the narrative in control, allowing the film to introduce competent characters like SP Aslam and Rehman Dakait as formidable, thinking opponents rather than fragile villains. The nuanced performances help too. Akshaye Khanna is potent, yes, but also so human in confusion and rage.

Since deception is the language of a spy thriller, let’s pretend that movies exist entirely in isolation — like an introvert on a Saturday night. Let’s pretend that Dhurandhar, Aditya Dhar’s directorial return after Uri (2019), has absolutely nothing to do with the world around us. (One could argue that it doesn’t, but that’s a mob attack for another day). Let’s also pretend that film criticism is about seeing a movie for what it is, regardless of its moral character or ideology. It’s only fair, given that we all admire great serial killers for being awesome at what they do, legendary dictators for being no-nonsense leaders, wars for being the epitome of courage and technology, and plane crashes for doing tragedy so well.

A fictional narrative inspired by true incidents, Aditya Dhar’s action drama follows Hamza (Ranveer Singh), a mysterious Indian agent who embeds himself deep within Karachi’s mafia network (Lyari gangwar) to dismantle terror operations from the inside. Structured across multiple chapters, the world-building is deliberate and immersive, pulling you into a gritty, violent universe that unfolds over nearly 3.5 hours. Yet, the runtime rarely feels overbearing thanks to Dhar’s stylish, tight storytelling.

Since more than a decade, mainstream Hindi cinema has seen a number of films about spies on secret missions for the sake of the country. The aforementioned story of Dhurandhar might also sound similar to some past Hindi movies. But the film stands apart when it comes to the treatment. Instead of including high-octane and larger-than-life action stunts, glamour and dialogue baazi, it relies on a narrative more on the realistic side. Of course, there are creative liberties being taken but they are believable. What sets Dhurandhar apart is also the main content. One won’t find spy activities between both countries as the center point. The film is more about the politics and mafia of Pakistan with the issue of terrorism kept in the background for a majority of the duration, especially in the first half. Dhar should be commended for the research on this topic and choosing to explore it, which hasn’t happened before. This also makes it advisable to do some research on the underworld of Lyari and its connection to Pakistan’s politics before watching the film.

Bollywood can’t just stick to making films anymore. Successful films need to be a clarion call for a ‘higher’ purpose. Whether it’s the Kashmiri Pandit exodus in The Kashmir Files (2022), the sadistic torture of a Hindu king by a Mughal emperor in Chhaava (2025), or a visibly deranged man offering his unsolicited opinions on everything, talking at the speed of thought, in Animal (2023).

India and Pakistan are neighbours, and much like how things work in our colonies and housing complexes, we are always more curious about what happens next door. Our fascination with a distant relative doing well is not very different from the interest many Indians showed in Zohran Mamdani’s victory in New York. Dhurandhar taps into this instinct, which makes its obsession with Pakistani politics immediately relatable. Pakistan’s activities, specially the extremist ones, have historically brushed directly against India. Aditya Dhar uses these shared touchpoints of language, culture, art, and sport to craft a story that feels rooted in reality yet remains thoroughly cinematic and engaging.