Every now and then, a piece of cinema comes along that shifts the landscape of how we tell stories. For me, that movie is Dhurandhar. Now that I rewatched it on OTT yesterday evening, I can’t hold back the thoughts that I should have penned down days ago.

Looking back at what Aditya Dhar achieved only highlights how monumental a cinematic triumph it actually is. It is a film that demands to be dissected, discussed, debated- not just for its scale, but for its soul. The internet is flooded with memes and other peak detailing posts. Having watched the premiere show on 18th March, then again re-watched it in the theatre a couple of times after the theatrical release of Dhurandhar: The Revenge (part 2 on 19th March), plus re-watching Dhurandhar 1 (also twice in the theatre and multiple times on OTT), there is so much it stirs within every single time.

I can’t recall the last time I watched and re-watched a movie this many times. Well, actually I can. See, I am not talking about re-watching Interstellar to make sense of it. I am talking about watching a movie for what it makes you feel. Like alighting from a roller coaster ride and then going back into the queue once again for the thrill. Been there, done that. Over the years, many such movies have come through. The Dark Knight Trilogy (again by Nolan), easily re-watched multiple times. Ditto for many Avengers movies. Just for kicks, Ocean’s Eleven, I had watched in the theatre 11 times with different sets of people. But I do recall one more such film. Originally, I watched The Legend of Bhagat Singh (Ajay Devgn, A. R. Rehman one) and 23rd March 1931: Shaheed in the same theatre, back-to-back shows. Then once again had to go re-experience Legend… to undo the let down of the latter. Very, very few movies come close to me as Dhurandhar does: The complete experience. Cinema. Story. Performance. Music. Message.RRR was another one like that. Of course, S. S. Rajamouli’s Bahubali Duology too! I also particularly enjoyed Vikram from the Lokiverse. Heck, I have re-watched Uri: The Surgical Strike by Aditya Dhar more than 15 times and the songs continue to be my daily tones. But, yet, this one was different.

Let’s address the elephant in the room first. Whenever a movie deals with national security, geopolitics, or deep-state operations, critics love to toss around the word “propaganda.” But to anyone who dismisses Dhurandhar under that lazy label, I’d say: you’re using the wrong language. In Gujarati, this can be translated as “Proper Ganda” (meaning completely mad, crazy, or unhinged). That is exactly what this movie is. It is proper ganda filmmaking. It’s crazy good. It’s madly efficient. It’s an insane level of pure directorial craft that elevates it far above standard political commentary. Have we not had beautiful movies with political commentary? Yes, we have. Plenty. Either side. Either party. Biopics to layered metaphors. We have seen them all. But this is another level. Even from the same Aditya Dhar, who, BTW, showed us a rare glimpse into this pain and craft with Baramulla. (Check it out if you haven’t already on Netflix. Be ready for a whole different experience).

Indian cinema has come a long way, and this film is the blueprint for that technical evolution. Think back to the iconic scene in Sholay where Thakur’s hands are cut off. It was tragic, legendary, but ultimately theatrical, staged and shielded carefully behind a swirling shawl. Fast forward to Dhurandhar, where we witness the brutal, visceral reality of Major Iqbal’s legs being amputated. To take things up a notch metaphorically, it’s left hanging by a snivelling tendon (or was it a vein?), and it continues to linger around for the entire scene and completes the metaphor. The sheer technical progress in how our cinema portrays the unforgiving cost of conflict is staggering. The blood splatter, the pounding of the skulls with brains flowing out, the gunshots, the blades piercing! When that tongue flew out from that goon in Vikram, I thought to myself, damn, the amazing guys down South have picked up quickly from John Wick (& Kamala Hassan always had a thing for prosthetics). But with Dhurandhar, the playing field is levelled, and the entire industry is lifted to new highs. It doesn’t look like typical action; it looks like premium global cinema.

The level of detailing here is, without a doubt, amazing. I am not just talking about a high-budget action film; I am talking about a meticulous, world-class standard of execution. A product that is a labour of pain and love. Yes, it is violent. But this goes beyond just violence. It’s grounded, clinical, and treats the audience’s intelligence with respect while following most laws well (physics included).

I often talk about great background scores, be it in a video or reel. The last time I truly felt the undeniable importance of a BGM was during Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Vikram;Anirudh Ravichander’s work there was absolute fire. There is a whole list of just BGM tracks of Vikram, and each one has such a different flavour and character, completely in sync with the actual characters on screen. But what Shashwat Sachdev does in Dhurandhar is on a whole different level of psychological filmmaking. He has thought about what one has to feel when the music plays, and he also displays his masterful understanding of when the music should stop.

The silences in this movie speak so much. A simple flick of the lighter echoing in a quiet room: it just changes the whole scene. These tiny, isolated sounds cut through the tension and completely alter the gravity of a moment. Sachdev doesn’t use music as an emotional add-on; he uses it as a scalpel to slice through your nerves and lift up the scene and storytelling to the next level.

And yet, for me, one of the most profound paradoxes of Dhurandhar is how a movie so chaotic, loud on music, violent, heavy, and intense can induce so much peace. So much sukoon. There is that specific sequence: the devastating “Wrath of God” scene or even maybe the few minutes before that, where the retaliation is unleashed with absolute, surgical precision. You expect your adrenaline to be pumping wildly, and it is. But right after that Wrath of god scene, there is a heightened sense of calm that I feel within. It is the sukoon of closure. It’s the peace that comes when a chaotic world is briefly set right by people who know exactly what they are doing. The movie transitions from high-octane warfare into a deeply meditative state of internal relief. It’s rare for an action film to give you spiritual tranquillity, but it manages it beautifully. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it is because it was the same Major Iqbal torturing the RAW agent brutally in Dhurandhar 1. Maybe it is the haunting memories of 26/11 and the numerous other wounds over the years suffered as an Indian and a Mumbaikar. Maybe it’s the arc of Jassi/Hamza to which one gets so attached. Maybe it’s just the way it is all performed and showcased.

Of course, a vision this grand requires performances from everyone to carry the absolute weight of the shadows, and the entire ensemble cast delivered flawlessly. No one was overacting for the gallery; everyone understood the collective assignment. They lived the exhaustion, the fear, and the resolve. Maybe it’s personal, but I think this is all credited to the director. This is Aditya Dhar’s movie. Those who have seen Uri, know the efforts he goes to to get things right. (Once again, do check out Baramulla)