Dhurandhar

Dhurandhar Review: That Eye Shot Still Has Me

I walked out of the theater tonight still tasting popcorn everywhere, with Ranveer's face burned into my memory like a ghost. My brain feels like a loose wire right now, so bear with me.

First, the facts for my fellow obsessives: Dhurandhar just hit theaters on December 5, 2025 (yes, I actually saw it on the big screen tonight). It's not on Netflix yet – they've got the digital rights, but that'll come after the theatrical run finishes. (BookMyShow confirmed this, if you're wondering.)

Now for the messy part...

The multiplex smelled of someone's expensive perfume mixed with garlic bread, and my seat had that annoying recline that leans you back like it's trying to forget you exist. When the opening sequence hit, the bass punched me in the chest so hard I actually flinched – hands flying to my mouth and everything. Old habit. The sound literally rattled my chest. I ended up tucking my jacket under my feet to stop them from bouncing nervously.

The crowd reactions surprised me too. People laughed at places I didn't expect, and this kid two rows down shouted "Whoa!" at something and it completely broke the movie's spell for a moment – in both a good and annoying way.

There's this one shot that's haunting me. The camera creeps in so slowly on Ranveer's left eye, and his iris looks like a tiny planet with sweat and neon flickering in it. He doesn't say much – just breathes – and then cut. That silence is deafening. It's lodged in my teeth. I keep seeing it when I blink. (I can almost hear the editor cackling in their dark room, "We will haunt them.") The way light pooled like ink in his cheek crease... too specific? Maybe. I know I'm being dramatic. I don't care.

The story moves like a sprint with occasional side-sprints into tragic backstories. At first I loved this – you know, depth and all that. But halfway through, I found myself thinking, "Wait, are we doing backstory NOW?" and felt this urge to stand up and shout, "Get back to the chase!" I actually liked that push-and-pull, though.

There's this two-minute sequence where the protagonist slips into Karachi undercover, cut with static news clips – so cinematic and menacing. But now, typing this, I'm wondering if it was just style over substance. Maybe I just wanted to buy into the mood rather than it being essential to the plot.

There was this line – can't remember the exact words because adrenaline and soda make my memory messy – but he mutters something with a half-smile like, "We don't need to be seen to be feared." The entire theater went quiet for half a second, like everyone instinctively started breathing through their noses. That line (or the idea of it) is crawling around my head. Why? Maybe because it felt like the film was winking at itself, or maybe because I wish I could be that calmly dangerous in real life. (Nope. That's scary. Don't be a psycho, Ishaan.)

Random memory kept popping up too: my grandfather showing me a black-and-white war movie on his old TV when I was nine. I fell asleep under his blanket and woke up to the sound of marching. Totally unrelated, but there was a scene tonight – the way the director framed these agents lined up in silhouette – it gave me that blanket-and-marching feeling, and suddenly I remembered the taste of my grandfather's tea and then I stopped because why am I crying thinking of tea? Memory jumps are so rude.

Technically speaking: the action sequences are edited like a strobe – quick punches, whip-pans, then suddenly a long take. That long take? Brilliant.  (Physical reaction #2: I nearly knocked my soda over.) But sometimes the quick cuts are too quick and I left with a mild headache – like someone compressed my skull. The costumes and production design are extra – uniforms that look like they cost silence and discipline. The score swells when it shouldn't sometimes, then swells perfectly when I needed it to. So inconsistent? Yes. Effective? Also yes.

The crowd was something else. This couple behind me were loud in the first twenty minutes – whispering like they were solving some puzzle together. Later, the entire theater clapped at that one reveal (you know the one). The applause caught me off guard. It made the emotional beats feel communal, like we were all briefly violating the movie by reacting. I loved that, even though I hate that I loved it. Cinema does that – it's messy, human, sticky. (This is why I usually prefer OTT, but tonight the cinema slapped me awake.)

I'm having this bizarre moment of self-doubt: Am I getting too soft for patriotic-leaning thrillers? Or did this film actually have something original to say about loyalty and the cost of shadows? I can't tell if I got swept up in the spectacle or if the spectacle was the argument. Sometimes spectacle is argument, I guess. Sometimes it's just a very expensive shrug.

The casting is stacked. Senior actors with those weathered faces that make every scene feel like a paragraph from a worn book. One supporting actor (you know the type – the one who smiles like they know private jokes with you) steals a scene with just a single shrug. I actually made a note in my phone during the interval (yes, I sneak notes) that I wanted to buy that shrug. Ridiculous.

Quick editing note and tiny critique: there's this subplot about betrayal that sits at the edge like an uncomfortable guest and never fully gets invited in; it flickers and then the film chooses the chase instead. I wanted more of the betrayal; the movie wanted me running. Fair enough.

I'm half-ashamed to admit I cried a little at the end – not sobbing, just heat behind my eyes – which is embarrassing because earlier in the film I'd scoffed out loud at a line and then had to mute myself with a fist over my mouth (physical reaction redux). The movie made me contradict myself three times.

This probably reads like someone who stayed too late talking to a crush, who then remembered they're allergic to crushes. I don't have to like every moral the film throws at me. I just have to admit it moved parts of me I didn't expect – and also irritated other parts like a pebble in a shoe.

Walking out, the exit corridor smelled of cold fries and ambition. People were already debating plot holes, and the lobby lights felt too bright for the sticky, echoing world we'd just left. I stepped into the night and my ears were still humming the score.

Final verdict: 7.5/10 - Solid

— Ishaan