No body part is left undamaged in Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar: The Revenge, the sequel to the pulse-pounding and eardrum-shattering spy thriller that was released in December 2025. At the fulcrum of Part 1 was the mystery surrounding Hamza’s (Ranveer Singh) identity and his true motives. Despite its pro-establishment propaganda, the film worked with audiences across ideological beliefs because of its strong storytelling — a hero with grey shades, a sly villain, well-etched supporting characters, a convenient romance that didn’t dilute the plot, adequate suspense and breakneck pacing. 

Part 2 is angrier, louder, and more blatant in its messaging. It’s also emptier. 

Dhurandhar: The Revenge opens with Hamza’s origin story — Jaskirat Singh is a fauji-in-the-making, but his dreams are shattered by a violent crime that breaks his home apart. The opening fight sequence establishes him as an avenging angel, a rage machine, a man on a mission, a pulverising powder keg. He skewers people like they’re kebabs. He shoots them in their genitals. He sticks sharp objects into eyeballs. He’s a deranged surgeon who cannot be contained. Woohoo. We get it.

We already know what Jaskirat did as Hamza, the Indian mole in the Pakistani political and crime scene, so we’re hoping for more story to drop in the sequel. Dhar, however, appears to have used up all his material in the first film. Part 2 feels like a mash-up of everything they left out on the editing table. 

Pakistani politics, which was at the heart of Part 1, becomes a minor plot point; Lyari is largely forgotten. Narendra Modi’s elevation to Prime Minister and demonetisation take centrestage instead. 

Hamza’s mission is bloodshed, Dhar’s mission is whitewash. 

The film unabashedly sells the narrative that the Modi government’s hugely criticised decision was the result of compelling intel. In this manufactured reality, demonetisation was driven by the discovery of a top-secret conspiracy to destabilise the Indian government, and we must all be grateful for the honour of standing in mile-long ATM queues back in 2016. The plot arranges itself into a toadying script for the “chaiwala” and his loyal right-hand man, Ajay Sanyal (R Madhavan playing a barely disguised version of National Security Advisor Ajit Doval). There is even a reference to the friendship new India enjoys with Israel, which couldn’t have been made at a worse time, considering the ongoing geopolitical turmoil that has brought the world to the brink. 

Gangster Dawood Ibrahim is also in the picture; if Dhar is to be believed, his powers have been effectively neutralised by the Indian government years ago. We’re meant to celebrate this as viewers, but it’s unclear what exactly the government has achieved since a large part of the plot deals with the damage he’s still unleashing. 

Even if you take all of this spin doctoring with a truckload of salt, Dhurandhar 2 is seriously hampered by its lack of a strong antagonist and purpose beyond propaganda. Akshaye Khanna as Rehman Dakait, the leader of the Balochs, brought a smouldering intensity to the first film; his elimination leaves a gaping hole in the sequel that none of the other members of the cast is able to fill. They play musical chairs with the role, and the result is far from satisfying. Major Iqbal’s (Arjun Rampal) transformation is too little, too late. 

The background score isn’t as effective as it was in the first film. It’s loud, intruding and doesn’t have the same nostalgic value that Part 1 was able to inspire. There is more blood, more gore. More Hindutva, more fearmongering. If the first film had a beheading, the second has a beheading and a character playing football with the detached head. Dialogues predict a dystopian future when Hindu men are circumcised, and Hindu women are sold into brothels. Male characters pay obeisance to Bharat Mata. Female characters hardly speak. 

None of it adds up to much. Plot threads are left underdeveloped (the one with Jaskirat’s bestie, for instance), and after a while, the overdose functions as an anesthetic and you become numb to everything unfolding on screen. The action sequences don’t have the pyrotechnics of Part 1, where everything looked new, shiny and slick. The template designed for shock value appears desperate. 

Bombs. Grenades. Guns. Knives. Okay.

Even so, Ranveer Singh pulls no punches playing Hamza, and he anchors the film with his agility and presence. Sanjay Dutt’s SP plods along predictable lines, offering no surprises. Bedi once again proves his mettle in the role of the despicable Jameel. His impeccable comic timing ensures that you occasionally wake up from your comatose state. The pace drags towards the end of the lengthy runtime (over 3 hours, 50 minutes) with Dhar trying to stuff more and more into a sieve. 

Is Jaskirat Singh done yet? Will there be a Part 3? What more can possibly be done with a detached head? Send it to space? We will have to wait and see.

Sowmya Rajendran writes on gender, culture and cinema. She has written over 25 books, including a nonfiction book on gender for adolescents. She was awarded the Sahitya Akademi’s Bal Sahitya Puraskar for her novel Mayil Will Not Be Quiet in 2015.

Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.

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