Some movies demand a review. Not because they are loud or marketed as “important,” but because they quietly stay with you long after the screen goes dark. Dhurandhar is one such film. The last time I felt this urge was after Maalik starring Fahadh Faasil—a film that trusted mood, character, and intelligence over noise.
Dhurandhar doesn’t announce itself loudly. It pulls you in with confidence and restraint, deeply aware of the world it is creating.
What struck me first was Akshaye Khanna. From Aa Ab Laut Chalein and Taal to the actor he is today, this is a journey of subtraction. In Dhurandhar, he doesn’t perform—he exists. Silence, pauses, and stillness become his tools. That’s not craft you learn overnight; it’s something audiences instinctively respect.
R. Madhavan continues his remarkable evolution. From Mani Ratnam’s romantic, idealistic student to the morally layered man we see here, he carries weight without ever pushing it. You believe his history even when it’s not spoken.
And then there is Ranveer Singh in Lootera. That was the moment he stopped being “a promising actor” and announced himself. There’s something within him—an honesty, a vulnerability—that commands respect without demanding attention. You don’t admire the performance; you trust it. That quality separates actors from stars.
Rakesh Bedi, like the finest character actors, simply does his job. No spotlight-hogging, no excess. And that’s precisely why the world of Dhurandhar feels authentic. Every supporting performance understands its place, allowing the story—not the actor—to lead.
Having grown up watching Hollywood political and CIA thrillers, films like State of Play came to mind—not in style, but in spirit. The focus here is on systems, not spectacle; on power structures, not punchlines.
The screenplay is sleek and confident. It goes deep into world-building—rooms feel lived in, conversations carry unspoken tension, and scenes unfold with purpose. You are never spoon-fed. You are trusted.
Dhurandhar is cinema that respects the audience—and in return, earns respect for itself.
Like Maalik and Lootera, it reminds us why some films don’t just deserve applause.
They deserve attention, reflection, and conversation.
