‘Dhurandhar: The Revenge’ picks up where its predecessor left off

Dhurandhar: The Revenge is Dhar’s third feature film, and a sequel to last year’s Dhurandhar, which polarized audiences but became one of the most successful Hindi-language blockbusters of all time, with a worldwide haul of about $140 million. It told the story of Hamza Ali Mazari, an Indian spy embedded deep inside the criminal underbelly of Karachi, Pakistan. Played by the always magnetic Ranveer Singh, Hamza sneaks his way inside the lower rungs of a local gang, working his way into the don’s inner circle and eventually replacing him. In the sequel, we learn how Hamza adopts his new identity after being recruited by spymaster Ajay Sanyal, played by R. Madhavan. Before Hamza was essentially blackmailed into becoming a weapon by and for his government, he was Jaskirat Singh Rangi, an eager young student in the military academy.

It’s a horrific origin story, one that relies not only on gruesome violence, but also on the tired trope of a man saving a brutalized woman’s honor. The opening scenes set the tone for the film to follow, which, across nearly four unending hours, doesn’t know when to press pause. Dhar lumbers along from one chapter to the next, each bearing a grandiose title. The first film, for instance, ended with a chapter titled “Et Tu Brute.” In the sequel, we watch Hamza consolidate his hard-fought position as the city’s new gang lord; his goal is to defund the terror ecosystem in Pakistan. In his new position of power, Hamza makes the acquaintance of Pakistan’s Inter Services Intelligence (ISI) chief Major Iqbal, played by a sneering Arjun Rampal, and eventually has a tense meeting with the mysterious “Bade Saab (Big Boss),” whose identity is revealed in an unintentionally comical scene. 

Sara Arjun as Yalina in "Dhurandhar: The Revenge."

Still from "Dhurandhar: The Revenge"

Familiar faces from the first film—including Rakesh Bedi’s scheming local politician Jameel Jamali, and Sanjay Dutt’s corrupt cop Chaudhary Aslam—return for more action. However, neither Sara Arjun nor Danish Pandor, standouts from the first film, have much to do this time around. Pandor’s character, the Fredo Corleone-esque Uzair Baloch, spends most of the movie off-screen, in prison; and Hamza’s wife Yalina, played by Arjun, is left to enjoy the luxuries of their new mansion and raise their child while he wreaks havoc in Karachi. Dhurandhar: The Revenge positively begs viewers not to wonder how Hamza is getting away with his brazen behavior and luscious mane of hair without drawing more attention to himself. 

The film cares even less about spy craft than its sloppy predecessor. In one scene, Hamza FaceTimes with Sanyal in India while killing a terrorist in a montage of operatic violence. This would have required a suspension of disbelief even if the movie hadn’t introduced an entire character whose only job is to act as a conduit between Hamza and the Indian government. In another scene, Sanyal hears about a successful assassination, not from his several assets in Pakistan, but from the news. It’s never quite clear if Hamza is motivated by a sense of duty toward his nation or if he is simply doing his government’s dirty work to secure his financially dependent mother’s and sister’s futures. For a film that hinges so indelicately on the idea of service to the nation, it ought to have been clearer about this.

R. Madhavan in "Dhurandhar: The Revenge."

Still from "Dhurandhar: The Revenge"

As if the Islamophobia weren’t enough—every Muslim in the movie is at least partially barbaric—Dhurandhar: The Revenge appears to take pride in its misogyny. More than one testosterone-fueled man growls at Hamza about masculinity while women remain unseen and unheard. The film is clear about who it considers worthy of respect, just as it is clear about the kind of patriotism it endorses. Unless you’re willing to die for your country, it says, you’re neither a patriot nor a man. Worse, it suggests that service to the nation isn’t an option, even if the nation has a habit of letting its people down. In the film’s opening chapter, Hamza demands to know why he is being asked to sacrifice his life for a country that couldn’t deliver justice to his sister, a survivor of assault. All it takes is an inspiring speech from Sanyal for him to change his mind. Warped as this may sound, the movie expects every Indian citizen to take a similarly sacrificial attitude, no questions asked.

There is no room for diplomacy; it’s as if the contributions of the dozens of real-life politicians who spent entire careers building bridges between India and Pakistan have been scrubbed from history. The only version of events Dhurandhar: The Revenge believes in is the version issued by the BJP—Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s presence looms so large that he could qualify for a best supporting actor award. From the drug epidemic in the state of Punjab, to the militancy in the disputed territory of Kashmir, every issue plaguing India is blamed on the ISI. The BJP, on the other hand, is absolved. A movie cannot be divorced from its politics. To do so would be akin to judging a pizza on texture alone, and not taste. Dhurandhar: The Revenge’s banging soundtrack, its slick visuals, and its dedication to the cause are mere tools in service of the propaganda.