Directed by Aditya Dhar, Dhurandhar is a sprawling 2025 Hindi spy-action epic that interweaves real geopolitical events with a covert narrative. The film charts an Indian intelligence operation set against 1990s–2000s Indo-Pak tensions, unfolding in eight titled chapters. Early scenes depict India’s response to the 1999 Kandahar hijacking and 2001 Parliament attack, leading spymaster Ajay Sanyal (R. Madhavan) to launch “Operation Dhurandhar”. He sends RAW agent Hamza Ali Mazari (Ranveer Singh) undercover into Karachi’s Lyari district to infiltrate local gangs. Hamza befriends Aalam (Gaurav Gera), a small-time juice-shop owner, and ingratiates himself with Rehman Dakait’s Baloch gang (led by Akshaye Khanna) by saving Rehman’s younger son at a deadly wedding attack. Over time Hamza earns Rehman’s trust, even as he relays intelligence to India – for example, evidence of an ISI counterfeiting ring and a planned terror strike on India.
Plot Summary (spoilers): The story builds as gang rivalries erupt and Pakistani politics intrude. Jameel Jamali (Rakesh Bedi), a secular politician, initially warns against violence before elections, but Hamza (secretly “Jaskirat Singh Rangi”) seizes power with Jameel’s daughter Yalina’s help. After the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks occur, Hamza, Aalam and Jameel resolve to crush Rehman’s syndicate. In the climactic denouement, Hamza stages a surprise ambush during Rehman’s son’s funeral, leading Rehman into an arrest trap. Rehman dies from his injuries, allowing Hamza to consolidate power in Lyari. In the final revelation, Hamza is unmasked as Jaskirat – a former Indian death-row prisoner turned covert operative. With Rehman eliminated, Hamza prepares to hunt down “Bade Sahab”, the shadowy mastermind behind the terror attacks. The film ends on a post-credits teaser for Dhurandhar Part 2, promising to continue Hamza’s mission.
Throughout this 214-minute saga (one of the longest Hindi films ever made), Dhar juggles underworld politics, family dynamics and real historical events. The eight-chapter structure, with titles like “The Price of Peace” and “Et tu Brutus”, gives Dhurandhar a quasi-episodic narrative. Critics note this design as akin to a video-game mission structure, with each “level” presenting clear objectives. For example, The Times of India praises how the multi-chapter format keeps nearly three-and-a-half hours of runtime “rarely feel[ing] overbearing”, crediting the film’s “stylish, tight storytelling”. However, others argue the many narrative threads strain the screenplay. Shalini Langer of Indian Express observes that despite the film’s rich world-building, its huge cast and subplots only “intermittently come together,” making the storytelling feel inconsistent.
Direction and Screenplay
Aditya Dhar’s direction is ambitious and on a grand scale, focusing on gritty realism over flamboyance. Many reviewers laud the film’s production values and immersive world. Bollywood Hungama calls Dhurandhar a “well-made, ambitious big-screen experience” with “top-notch craft”. India Today notes that Dhar’s team handles a “sprawling, muscular” plot deftly, and says it “bites off a lot… and chews most of it successfully” thanks especially to Khanna’s performance. Indeed, scenes of lush Karachi streets, crowded election rallies, and violent shootouts make the setting palpably lived-in. Dhar avoids cartoonish patriotism in many sequences by showing the grittiness of espionage and policing – for example, a standout scene catches Hamza secretly videotaping a conversation to blackmail a local politician.
At the same time, critics point out that Dhurandhar’s narrative is overstuffed. The film’s pacing can be uneven. Hindustan Times’ Rishabh Suri writes that while the spy drama is “lengthy yet loaded” and highlights “Rahul and Khanna”, it “occasionally feels too long and dense with too many sub-plots”. Taher Ahmed of Deccan Herald similarly praises the ambition but criticizes the “runtime, pacing, and climax” for dragging. The long second half, which shifts tone when Hamza pivots to overt revenge tactics, has divided opinions: NDTV’s Radhika Sharma says the latter part feels almost “a completely different film altogether,” even as she commends the cast and the music. In summary, Dhar’s screenplay is bold and multilayered, but its sheer scale means some narrative threads aren’t as tight as they could be.
Performances and Casting
Dhurandhar boasts an ensemble cast of Bollywood heavyweights, and key performances are central to the film’s impact. The leads deliver controlled, intense work:
Ranveer Singh (Hamza Ali Mazari/Jaskirat Singh) anchors the film with a brooding, understated intensity. Many reviews note that Ranveer holds the film together with a restrained turn. Times of India says he gives a “subdued yet scorching” performance that “anchors” the film. He eschews his usual flamboyance for silent strength, conveying Hamza’s dual identity through subtle expressions. According to Hindustan Times, Ranveer’s magnetic presence keeps viewers invested even when the narrative slows. For Ranveer, this film is a departure — Filmfare calls his Hamza an “feral” character for which his own authority is stamped all over the movie. (Cite: [26†L600-L605] and [28†L100-L108] discuss his controlled acting.)
Akshaye Khanna (Rehman Dakait) delivers one of the film’s most praised performances. As the menacing gangster-turned-politician, Khanna is charismatic and coldly intense. Critics repeatedly single out his “explosive brilliance”. His portrayal of Rehman’s vicious grandeur – from calmly murdering his own father to emotionally shattering upon his son’s death – is compelling. India Today explicitly attributes the film’s success to Khanna’s performance. He anchors scenes of brutality and grief; The Hindu calls him a “charismatic” lead alongside Ranveer. Even the film’s worst scenes are often salvaged by Khanna’s screen presence.
Sanjay Dutt (SP Chaudhary Aslam) appears in a supporting but memorable role as a crusading Pakistani police officer. Dutt brings grizzled intensity to Aslam, who prosecutes local crime figures under immense pressure. His presence adds weight to the action sequences, though critics note he’s somewhat underused in the final cut. Still, the scenes where Aslam teams up with Hamza and Jameel are often noted as highlights.
R. Madhavan (Ajay Sanyal) portrays the Indian IB chief based on Ajit Doval. Madhavan’s Sanyal is largely off-screen (managing Hamza from India), so he has limited screen time. However, in his brief appearances he convincingly embodies bureaucratic frustration and steely determination. The film’s extended scenes focus on Ranveer and Khanna, but Madhavan’s cameo lends official gravitas.
Sara Arjun (Yalina Jamali) and Rakesh Bedi (Jameel Jamali) round out the main cast. Sara gives her character warmth and agency, serving as Hamza’s love interest and political ally. Bedi’s elder statesman portrayal of Jameel is affable and earnest. Both are effective, though neither draws as much attention as the leads. In general, critics agree that the casting is solid – the mixture of star power and character actors grounds the story in a believable world. A few supporting TV actors (like Gaurav Gera as Aalam) also add authenticity to the milieu. Overall, the actors’ chemistry – especially Singh and Khanna clashing – is one of the film’s strengths.
Cinematography and Visuals
Vikash Nowlakha’s cinematography and production design vividly render Lyari’s urban underbelly. The film favors gritty, sepia-tinted visuals – lots of sandy yellows and dirty browns – giving Karachi the look of a dangerous frontier. In fact, some analysts note direct influences from older Indian epics: Medium’s Abhishek Dasgupta likens Dhurandhar’s frames to Batwara (1989), using “wide, dusty frames” that make characters look small against the landscape This visual grammar emphasizes how hamza and others are engulfed by their harsh world. Many action sequences (street chases, narrow alleys) are shot tightly to evoke claustrophobia, while election rallies and interiors feel vast and wide-angle.
Critics specifically praise the cinematography’s realism. Deccan Herald notes that the film’s look adds to its authenticity. There are striking compositions throughout: for example, one infamous shot tracks along the road as a man’s body is dragged backward by a car, the camera moving against the motion to let the figure fill the frame. That shot (though not narratively essential) powerfully visualizes brutality without glamorizing it. In general, Nowlakha’s camera mostly stays objective, placing viewers as observers in the midst of the action. He rarely uses subjective close-ups or shaky cam, which suits the procedural tone. The color palette and lighting often feel desaturated until the final act (see below).
On the flip side, some critics feel the sheer length and number of scenes reduce the visual impact. With a 214-minute runtime, even well-shot sequences sometimes blur into one another. Hindustan Times suggests that while individual frames impress, the overall flow can become visually monotonous during the slower political scenes. Nevertheless, the consensus is that Dhurandhar is a visually ambitious project that elevates its spy-thriller narrative through stark, powerful imagery.
Editing and Pacing
Shivkumar Panicker’s editing receives mixed notices. On the positive side, the film’s structure and cuts serve dramatic purpose. A particularly lauded cut (highlighted by critic Prachi Hota) occurs during Rehman’s speech after killing his father: instead of holding on Khanna’s face, the edit jumps to Ranveer’s, signaling to the audience that the true threat to Rehman is internal. This use of dramatic irony – letting viewers know Hamza is an undercover agent before Rehman does – cleverly shifts narrative weight onto Hamza’s peril. Such editorial decisions demonstrate maturity: the edit doesn’t belabor plot beats, but it does reframe stakes and tension organically.
However, the pacing overall draws criticism largely because of the film’s epic length. Many reviewers say the film is overlong. Hindustan Times and Deccan Herald note that Dhurandhar’s nearly 3.5-hour runtime tests the audience’s endurance. The initial first half (undercover build-up) is fairly taut, but after 26/11 the film slows as it delves into political machinations and siege preparations. As Times Now observes, the adrenaline-pumping action set pieces succeed in bursts, but “the ending doesn't quite justify its lengthy runtime”. In practice, the editing could have trimmed more of the intermediary political plotting. The mid-film blooper – Hamza’s siege of a police station – feels repetitive of earlier gang battles.
In summary, strong editing moments are overshadowed by structural bloat. The film occasionally suffers from what Hindustan Times calls a tangle of “too many sub-plots”. In particular, the very final act involves simultaneous maneuvers by multiple characters (Hamza, Jameel, Aslam, Uzair), which is thrilling but makes the climax feel excessively complex. Critics like Shalini Langer say the storytelling “only intermittently comes together” because of these long, interlaced scenes. Still, when the editing plays to the film’s strengths – sudden zooms into a character’s face, cross-cutting betrayals, chapter divisions – it heightens suspense effectively.
Music and Sound Design
The score and soundtrack by Shashwat Sachdev and Sanchit Balhara (with song “Ramba Ho” by John Stewart Edgar) also shape the narrative tone. The film is largely score-driven, with fewer traditional songs. The background music is muscular, often combining orchestral hits with ethnic percussion to underscore action. Most critics commend the music in key sequences: Taher Ahmed specifically praises the soundtrack, and Pinkvilla highlights the background score as a standout despite the long runtime. The sound design leans into diegetic realism: gunfire echoes harshly, city sounds are immersive, and silence is used deliberately to amplify shocks (a technique resembling Batwara’s sparse soundscapes).
One of Dhurandhar’s cleverest audio decisions involves the song “Ramba Ho”. Initially heard as a loud Punjabi wedding dance number diegetically in a celebratory scene, the track later seamlessly transitions into the film’s non-diegetic score during a gang induction shootout. This shift is not just stylish but symbolic: it bridges the moment of social festivity with sudden violence, linking the joyous ritual to ensuing bloodshed. Prachi Hota notes that this maneuver marks a clear narrative transition – once “Ramba Ho” stops being just a party song, “what existed… will never exist in the world of the film again”.
However, while these highlights impress, the overall soundscape is sometimes criticized as utilitarian. Some reviewers imply the score follows familiar thriller tropes (rising strings, heavy percussion during fights) without consistently innovating. In addition, given the movie’s length, extended stretches of ambient or political chatter by characters can dampen the music’s impact. In the end, “Ramba Ho” stands out as an example of smart sound use; otherwise the score is solid but not groundbreaking. (For context, note that archival news audio from the 26/11 attack is integrated diegetically – the characters watch real 2008 footage on TV – underscoring the film’s emphasis on realism.)
Narrative Structure, Pacing, and Symbolism
As noted, Dhurandhar’s narrative structure is meticulously organized. The division into eight chapters allows the film to segment Hamza’s journey into clear phases: infiltration, betrayal, combat, etc. This structure is emphasized on screen by onscreen titles (e.g., “Bullets and Roses”, “The Devil’s Guardian”). Reviewers see this as partly why the film’s enormous scope feels coherent. Times of India commends the use of chapters and multiple threads, saying that despite the long runtime the story “rarely feels overbearing”. Indeed, the film often feels episodic: each chapter shifts location or focus (from IB office to Lyari slum to secret hideout), keeping the viewer oriented.
Within each chapter, pacing varies. Early chapters move at a methodical clip – Hamza’s surveillance and small alliances are built gradually, often in silence. The pace quickens during action sequences (gang ambushes, riots, gun battles) and during the final wedding massacre. Some critics remark that the first half has a tighter rhythm – world-building and suspense – while the second half stretches time with negotiations and strategy. For example, NDTV and Pinkvilla praise the high-voltage set pieces and second-half moments but still note the runtime as a drag. Ultimately, the film’s pacing is stop-and-go: it accelerates during violence but slows significantly during internal meetings and plotting, testing viewer patience.
Symbolism in Dhurandhar is subtle but deliberate. The final act uses a sustained red lighting motif: just before the last chapter “Et Tu, Brutus,” the light outside Hamza’s hideout shifts to a deep red. This color break from the otherwise naturalistic palette signals impending doom and irrevocability. The red glow remains during the climax, creating a literal and figurative sense of alarm. As analyst Prachi Hota writes, this red light “refuses relief” and marks a point of no return for Hamza.
Other symbols reinforce the story’s themes. The chapter title “Et Tu, Brutus” (invoking betrayal) foreshadows the twist of Hamza’s treachery toward Rehman. The repeated visual of butterfly tattoos on characters (e.g. on Rehman’s gang members) ties into the chapter “The Butterfly Effect,” hinting at how small actions spiral into major consequences. Even mundane objects carry weight: for instance, a lighter flame given by Rehman’s wife (paralleling Gangs of Wasseypur’s Khatoon–Sardar scene) literally authorizes his vengeful mission
On a meta-level, the film is rife with political symbolism. The narrative blurs into history – it uses real news footage of the 26/11 attacks as part of the story, with characters watching it on TV. This diegetic use of archival footage (rather than a distant montage) pulls viewers into the characters’ reality. The concluding voice-over quotes Modi-era rhetoric. For example, the film ends with Ajay Sanyal intoning “Yeh ghar mein ghusega bhi, aur maarega bhi” (“It will enter your home and finish every last one”), a slogan used in Dhar’s previous film Uri and later in Narendra Modi’s 2019 campaign. This line – essentially a pledge of uncompromising revenge – makes the film’s political messaging explicit.
Political and Social Commentary
Dhurandhar is unapologetically political. Its plot deliberately intertwines with real-world India–Pakistan conflicts. Commentators note that the film incorporates events like the Kandahar hijacking, the 2001 Parliament attack, and the Mumbai 26/11 attacks into its spine. Characters are inspired by real figures: IB chief Sanyal mirrors Ajit Doval, and Major Iqbal is based on Pakistani militant Ilyas Kashmiri. The film doesn’t hide its perspective: Sanyal and other Indian officials are shown frustrated with past governments’ inaction, explicitly hoping for a stronger future leader (implicitly Modi) to handle terrorism. The Pakistani side is portrayed as rife with corruption: local politicians colluding with gangs, generals double-dealing, and ISI backing terror.
This nationalistic slant has attracted controversy. Critics in India and Pakistan have argued about the film’s agenda. Sociologist Nida Kirmani and Lyari residents criticized the portrayal of Lyari as totally fantastical and unfairly tied to Mumbai attacks. Pakistani journalists say Dhurandhar “folds a Pakistani urban conflict into India’s contemporary nationalist imagination”. On the Indian side, voices like The Hindu columnist Nissim Mannathukkaren label the movie propaganda, noting it “lionises a powerful security figure of the Modi government” and “lauds muscular counterterrorism”. Mint’s Uday Bhatia similarly deems it “propaganda in service of a hawkish India, designed to flatter the ruling BJP”. Even IGN observes that Dhurandhar “walks a fine line between raucous entertainment and hateful propaganda.”
However, some analysts defend the film’s approach. The Wall Street Journal’s Sadanand Dhume argues that Dhurandhar is the first major Bollywood movie to realistically portray India’s terrorist threat, praising its historical scope. Others highlight the film’s portrayal of intelligence work as restrained and ethically conflicted, rather than mindless revenge. (For instance, an Access Hub defense of the film notes that during the Mumbai attacks, the Indian agents are depicted as helpless observers constrained by “operational realities,” not as action heroes storming in.) Columnist Shobhaa De even claims “It’s not about politics. It’s about a story – perhaps fictionalised.” and expresses enjoyment of the craft despite the length.
In summary, Dhurandhar’s message is unmistakably pro-India security. It holds Pakistan responsible for cross-border terror, and at times veers into jingoism – e.g. equating militant finance with corruption in India’s own bureaucracy, or treating old local gang wars as if they were directly tied to international terror. Yet it also attempts to show restraint: for instance, it does not depict street vigilantism by its heroes, and it frames Hamza as an obedient officer following orders, not a rogue. Whether one views it as balanced or propagandist often depends on perspective: the film itself encourages audiences to feel pride in India’s clandestine heroes, but leaves little room for Pakistan’s point of view. As one critic put it, Dhurandhar is a “masculine counter-terrorism strategy on celluloid”.
Dhurandhar in the Landscape of Indian Political Cinema
In the larger context of Indian cinema, Dhurandhar sits among a wave of national-security thrillers and politically charged films. It follows in the footsteps of Aditya Dhar’s own Uri: The Surgical Strike (2019), and is part of a trend that includes movies like Raazi, Baby, and even the controversial Kashmir Files (2022). However, Dhurandhar is distinguished by its sheer scale and gangster noir elements. It resembles Bollywood gangster classics (Satya, Company) in its underworld realism, but channels the patriotic fervor of modern blockbusters.
Critics note that Dhurandhar’s unabashed patriotism is characteristic of recent Hindi cinema. The Week says the movie has a “powerful core” but is diluted by “overt jingoism,” ultimately becoming a tribute to “India’s heroes”. The film’s numerous references to real politics and its genre-blurring approach (crime saga meets spy thriller) mark it as very much of the 2020s era, when filmmakers often mix entertainment with overt messaging. Its box-office success (entering the ₹1,000 crore club) shows that such films have commercial appeal. At the same time, Dhurandhar also signals Bollywood’s willingness to create franchise-scale espionage dramas – a sequel is already planned.
Stylistically, Dhurandhar departs from some leaner, realist espionage films (like Madras Cafe). Its “preposterous length,” as one reviewer notes, and high-concept fusion of street-gang violence with geopolitical war sets it apart from conventional thrillers. In the post-Uri landscape, it may well set a new bar for spectacle. But it also cements a trend: in current Indian political cinema, spectators increasingly expect glossy action and a feel-good patriotism. Dhurandhar delivers both – a richly crafted “big-screen experience” – even as critics debate its ideological bent.
Conclusion
Dhurandhar is a bold, adrenaline-fueled odyssey through espionage and underworld betrayal, one that few films dare to attempt. It succeeds in immersing the audience in its tense, violent world – thanks to meticulous direction, confident editing (see the smart cutting to frame Ranveer’s double life), and powerhouse performances by Ranveer Singh and Akshaye Khanna. The cinematography and music amplify its intense atmosphere, and moments like the Ramba Ho wedding/battle sequence or the climactic red-lit showdown showcase real craft.
At the same time, Dhurandhar is flawed by its own ambition. Its sprawling plot can feel unwieldy, and its near-three-and-a-half-hour runtime tests endurance. Some viewers will find the political messaging too explicit; as one critic cautions, the film undeniably “refuses to be contained by the grammar of a conventional spy thriller” – a grammar in which nuance might give way to nationalistic catharsis. The film does indeed walk “a fine line between raucous entertainment and hateful propaganda,” as IGN puts it. In other words, it offers a visceral cinematic ride that is as much about pride and ideology as it is about plot twists.
For film critics and cinephiles, Dhurandhar will prompt debate. Is it an expertly made action-thriller with patriotism baked in, or is it an overt piece of propaganda disguised as entertainment? The answer likely falls in between: Dhurandhar is a polished, technically vigorous spectacle that openly wears its political heart on its sleeve. It may not rewrite the rules of the genre, but it defiantly plays the game on its own (and India’s) terms. As Part 1 of a saga, it lays the groundwork with ambition and flair – and whether one cheers or critiques its approach, the film makes a clear statement about the kind of national narratives that dominate Bollywood today. Its final act of defiance – bathed in a crimson light and bolstered by the director’s unmistakable vision – ensures Dhurandhar will be remembered as a maximalist entry in India’s spy-thriller canon.
Sources: The above analysis draws on published reviews and articles, including The Times of India, Hindustan Times, NDTV, Indian Express, Deccan Herald, and specialist analyses. These sources critically assess the film’s plot, craft, and commentary, informing this comprehensive review.