When Aditya Dhar’s latest film, Dhurandhar: The Revenge, thundered into U.S. theaters on March 20, 2026, it arrived with baggage as heavy as its runtime. Stretching to nearly four hours, this sequel to the record-smashing Dhurandhar is not just a continuation of its predecessor’s saga—it's an unapologetic, high-octane spectacle that doubles down on its political messaging, violence, and cinematic bravado. But beneath the surface of its technical polish and blockbuster ambitions, critics say the film’s true agenda is as naked as its violence: a brazen, almost theatrical, endorsement of India’s ruling party and its brand of Hindu nationalism.
According to The New York Times, Dhurandhar: The Revenge is a film that “amps up the ultraviolence and the provocative mingling of heroic theatrics with India-Pakistan history.” The story picks up where the first film left off, following undercover Indian agent Hamza Ali Mazari, played with gusto by Ranveer Singh, as he hacks and slashes his way through Pakistan’s criminal underworld and political hierarchy. The plot, spanning from 2009 to about 2016, is peppered with references to real-life terrorist attacks on India and the government’s 2016 demonetization of large currency bills—an unmistakable nod to the policies of Prime Minister Narendra Modi, whose rhetoric and image are woven throughout the film.
“The movie’s naked political propaganda will appeal to its core audience, it’s sure to repulse many others,” noted a review from Variety. And indeed, the film wastes no time declaring its loyalties. It opens with a quote from the Bhagavad Gita, India’s central Hindu scripture, before launching into a prologue that introduces Hamza’s real identity: Jaskirat Singh Rangi, a military dropout from Punjab hell-bent on avenging attacks on his sisters. This backstory, as the review points out, is a direct reference to Dhar’s previous film, Uri: The Surgical Strike, and sets up what could have been a nuanced exploration of loyalty, family, and patriotism. But any hint of moral ambiguity is quickly swept aside in favor of relentless action and a single-minded narrative.
From the outset, Dhurandhar: The Revenge is less interested in spiritual conflict or personal dilemma than in glorifying its hero’s crusade. The film’s Hamza is a man on a mission, and the audience is given little reason to doubt the righteousness of his cause. “Moral dilemmas don’t really matter when the one, true guiding morality is Big Brother,” the Variety review quips. Instead, viewers are treated to a barrage of inventive and graphic violence—shooting off noses, upward headshots, burning people alive, and point-blank executions. The fight sequences, while technically sound, are described by The Hindu as “laborious,” and the nearly hour-long action climax is marred by “sloppy moment-to-moment assembly and mismatched sound design.”
Despite these technical shortcomings, the film’s scale is undeniable. Its predecessor, released in December 2025, became the highest-grossing Hindi film in India, out-earning even the global megahit RRR. Dhurandhar: The Revenge was originally intended to be part of a single, mammoth production, but was split into two films late in the process—a decision that may explain the sequel’s rushed pacing and overlong runtime. According to Variety, “every scene goes on a little too long,” and the soundtrack feels “temp-tracked,” lacking the musical flair that gave the first film its sense of nostalgia and spectacle.
The narrative itself is a whirlwind of tit-for-tat killings, political intrigue, and historical references. Hamza, now married to a politician’s daughter, risks exposure as he climbs the Pakistani political ladder, consolidating power with the tacit approval of his Indian handlers. The film’s antagonists, particularly Pakistani terrorist and intelligence operative Major Iqbal (played by Arjun Rampal), are painted in broad strokes, their motivations reduced to threats of religious conversion and violence against Hindus. The dialogue borrows liberally from the speeches of Prime Minister Modi, and the villains are often shown lamenting his status as a “heroic savior.”
Critics have not minced words about the film’s political leanings. The Hindu describes it as “party agenda brazenly packaged as nationalism,” while Variety calls it “unapologetic Islamophobia.” The film goes so far as to suggest that opposition parties and even Indian universities are secretly funded by terror cells—a claim that serves little dramatic purpose beyond reinforcing the ruling party’s narrative. “It’s more of a political leaflet than a real movie at times,” the review laments.
For all its bombast, however, the film is curiously devoid of emotional depth. The first installment succeeded in part because it balanced its political messaging with personal stakes and relationships. In the sequel, Hamza’s wife Yalina (Sara Arjun) is relegated to the background, and his friendships and rivalries lack the emotional heft that made the original compelling. Any attempt to flesh out the characters’ inner conflicts—such as Hamza’s brief flashbacks to his life as Jaskirat, or Iqbal’s domestic struggles—are quickly abandoned in favor of yet another bloody set piece. “Instead of the hero and villain being each other’s thematic foils, Iqbal’s M.O. ends up reduced to threats of religious circumcision, and the idea that he might force every Hindu in India to read from the Quran,” notes Variety with a touch of exasperation.
There are moments of levity, mostly courtesy of Rakesh Bedi’s bumbling Pakistani politician, but these are few and far between. The overall tone is grim, relentless, and at times numbing. The soundtrack, described by The New York Times as “the background to gaming,” does little to alleviate the sense of monotony that sets in as the body count rises. The film’s nearly four-hour runtime becomes a test of endurance, and by the time the credits roll, even the most ardent fans may find themselves exhausted.
And yet, for all its flaws, Dhurandhar: The Revenge is a film of the current moment—one that reflects, amplifies, and perhaps even shapes the political and religious tensions of contemporary India. Its commercial success seems all but assured, given the box office performance of its predecessor and the fervor of its core audience. But as the reviews make clear, it is a film that invites as much discomfort as it does applause, raising uncomfortable questions about the line between entertainment and propaganda.
In the end, Dhurandhar: The Revenge stands as a testament to the power of cinema—not just to entertain, but to provoke, polarize, and, for better or worse, fan the flames of a nation’s most heated debates.