Dhurandhar Review | An Occasionally Gripping Spy Drama Consumed By Pakistan, Persecution & Propaganda

It’s one thing to make propaganda films and another to make a “good” propaganda film. Aditya Dhar knows how to do the latter, carrying the saffron-tinted crown of making the first recognised and successful one back in 2019. Although there aren’t enough films in the “guns, violence and men” genre apparently, so here's another. While historic events pertaining to actual people and tragedies make up for great film-material fodder, it is impossible to separate them from the politics they present. The director’s gaze here is still stuck in Pakistan dissecting several attacks over the years. 

As the trailer suggested, brains are bashed with stones, skin is tugged onto with a million fishing hooks and of course, blood flows in rivers through Dhurandhar in abundance. The thing about gore in films is that it is only effective when it is purposeful, otherwise it’s simply serving shock value. In a battle of egos, power and national pride—emerges another tale of Pakistan-centred terrorism which the film overtly highlights several times, even mentioning how “ behind all terrorist activities & tragedies in the world is Pakistan.”

Perhaps, someday Indian propaganda filmmakers will find more creative avenues for filmmaking rather than trauma-bonding with Pakistan and blaming all of the nation’s problems onto them. There’s a line in Dhurandhar that goes, “India’s first and foremost enemy is India itself, Pakistan comes second in place.” While the statement is half-true, there’s a lot to be dissected about the portrayal of Pakistan in the film itself.

Although for a film set majorly in Lyari, Pakistan—the film sees its people in black and white with no nuance. Even the hyperfixation on Pakistan isn’t really about Pakistan. All Pakistani dakaits and people in positions of power are hyper-fixated with destroying and torturing India(ns). If not primarily that, they’re focused on conquering Lyari. Despite being a fictional work “inspired by true events”, the film dutifully incorporates archival news segments and verified audio from the assaults on Parliament (2001) and 26/11 attacks in Mumbai (2008) with special dedications to soldiers.

Dhurandhar opens by tracing the aftermath of the IC-814 hijacking (1999), using it as a quiet anchor point for understanding how each event reshaped public memory and institutional response. The first half drags with character setups, but once it finds its rhythm, it turns gritty, delivering sequences that feel raw and convincing. Incensed by India’s acquiescence to the hijackers, intelligence chief Ajay Sanyal (R. Madhavan) argues that confronting Pakistan on its own turf is the only viable response.

He identifies Hamza (Ranveer Singh) to win the trust of the Baloch gang led by Rehman Dakait (Akshaye Khanna). He presents as the long haired, cheetah-eyed protagonist who’s going to singlehandedly avenge the nation. The film addresses the Pakistan–Balochistan conflict, a rare mainstream glimpse into internal fissures. Khanna’s charm here is infectious as a shapeshifter who can slip from lightly comic to quietly menacing within the same moment, as compared to his lacklustre role in Chhava (2025).

For someone with an admittedly unreliable memory, the sheer number of characters feels overwhelming. None of them are ever uninteresting, yet keeping track becomes its own task. Among them is Chaudhary Aslam (Sanjay Dutt), an impulsive police officer driven by a long-standing hostility toward the Balochs. Alongside him stands Major Iqbal (Arjun Rampal), an ISI officer whose calculated pragmatism positions him as the key intermediary between the gangs and Islamabad’s political leadership. Rehman works in service of Jameel Jamali (Rakesh Bedi), an opportunistic politician who folds gangsters and police officers into his political strategy. 

Jameel’s daughter Yalina (Sara Arjun) ends up as yet another woman sacrificed to the altar of underwritten storytelling. As Hamza courts her, he finds himself edging closer to the covert schemes directed against India, raising the stakes of every encounter. She begins as a sharp, career-focused daughter who can hold her own in any argument, but the moment Hamza arrives, her critical thinking seems to pack its bags and leave. Suddenly the rebel who questioned everything is reduced to offering compliance and home-cooked meals. And while the age-gap romance understandably makes audiences uncomfortable, the film seems convinced that mentioning the discomfort inside the plot somehow neutralises it. 

Dhurandhar examines how men navigate power, anger, and possession, often measured through the sheer volume of violence they inflict. The carnage unfolds with calculated precision, yet it is the remarkable performances by Singh, Bedi, Dutt, Khanna, and Rampal that anchor the film, giving its sprawling narrative a steady, compelling gravity. The film also suffers from the one-track mind protagonist syndrome wherein Hamza can do no wrong, never be the defeated and is always one step ahead of everyone. Which is what most action protagonists become victims of, but truly complex characters require a certain hubris, a folly and a reckoning, that leads them to repurpose their morality—which is noticeably absent here.

Although the film presents only one emotion as the certainty for Hamza, which is, love for the nation. He is unrealistically unable to genuinely feel for anything else (not even the woman he claims he loves). His switch in allegiance is hard to predict, and a few plot beats stumble, yet the film holds its ground. Dhar also emphasises through Hamza that a wounded nation can be deadlier: “Ghayal hoon isliye ghatak hoon.” that quite inadvertently expresses the film’s emotional grounding. Dhurandhar also accomplishes to replicate the cognitive dissonance of Animal (2023) or Kabir Singh (2019) making the protagonist (and antagonists) seem badass and super-cool with dedicated background scores. The score here relies on familiar Hindi film melodies with foot-tapping beats, giving the film a curious blend of nostalgia, flair and stylised violence.  

The overall visual worldbuilding and cinematography by Vikash Nowlakha is fantastic and pulls one in immediately. The pacing falters at moments, yet he sustains enough narrative pull to keep the viewer invested and occasionally disarmed. With part two arriving on March 19, 2026, Dhurandhar feels like an extended setup—laying out ruthless villains and key players, priming us for the second part where Hamza takes the reins. 

Though promoted as a conventional ISI-versus-RAW espionage drama, Dhar’s direction remains unexpectedly sharp and steadily engaging across its three-hour plus span. If one sets aside the India–Pakistan conflict (one can’t) Dhar’s craft reveals a filmmaker fixated on balancing tension with accessibility. But at what cost? His violence is precise and unglamorous—highlighting with a tunnel-vision, the enemy’s brutality, noticeably directing the audience to feel their blood simmering.

Dhar does eventually circle back to Uri: The Surgical Strike (2019) with the line, “Yeh naya India hai, yeh ghar me ghusega bhi aur maarega bhi,” a moment that elicits a quiet, weary sigh from anyone who recognises how easily nationalistic fervour can be summoned in such politically volatile times. Dhurandhar ultimately unfolds as an expansive, intense, yet uninventive Pakistan-fixated thriller that bites off more than it can chew but is tailor-made to (unfortunately) certainly sway the masses.