Dhurandhar - The Long Game

There has not been a decent spy thriller made this well in Bollywood since forever. Dhurandhar, Aditya Dhar's ambitious action-espionage epic that dropped on Netflix last week, is what happens when a director decides to challenge the mediocrity that has plagued mainstream Bollywood cinema for years.

I, a detached viewer, on other side of the globe, tenuously tied to India by my Indian roots, didn't get the impression that it was your typical flag-waving, chest-thumping Bollywood fare. This is methodical, deliberate filmmaking that treats its audience like adults capable of sitting through a three-and-a-half-hour narrative without needing an item number or comic relief sidekick.

The film tells the story of Hamza, played by Ranveer Singh, a composite character based on real Indian intelligence operatives who spent lifetimes embedded in Pakistan's hostile territories. These are the invisible soldiers and spies who played the long game after devastating terrorist events on India like the Kandahar hijacking, the Indian Parliament attack and 26/11 Mumbai attacks. The movie follows India's intelligence apparatus methodically infiltrating and dismantling terror networks. If The Godfather had been a spy thriller, it might have looked something like this.

Ranveer Singh is excellent. This guy gives you a thousand dollars' worth of performance for every dollar you pay him. He's one of those rare actors in this era of fleeting stardom who consistently shows up and delivers, film after film. But the internet has lost its collective mind over Akshaye Khanna's Rehman Dacait, his style, his delivery, his entire presence has become the talk of social media. Sure, Khanna is magnetic, but this is still Ranveer's movie. I do agree there are some political undertones. R. Madhavan's character basically exists to deliver one-liners glorifying the current Indian administration. But here's the thing, I haven't been dialed into Indian politics for more than a quarter century, so I watched this like any other geopolitical thriller. The film portrays India positively but doesn't dehumanize Pakistanis. It shows Pakistan as a complex political landscape where gun-trafficking and terror training are unfortunate realities of their geopolitical business. What impressed me most is that Dhar made this as a mainstream commercial film, not as some niche arthouse project. He had the guts to demand more from audiences, to trust that they'd appreciate sophisticated storytelling over formulaic "for the masses" entertainment. The film's box-office returns, multiple-viewings of the movie by many cinephiles and the excitement and life it has brought back to Bollywood, tell us that Aditya Dhar's gamble has paid off. The climax action sequence alone, from the slow-burn tension building in a car to the relentless pursuit and brutal hand-to-hand combat is some of the finest action choreography Bollywood has produced.  

At 215 minutes, I wanted more when it ended. Part two arrives in March 2026. I'll be watching. 

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Ouseppinte Osyathu (2025)

Ouseppinte Osaythu is one of those rare Malayalam films that sneaks up on you. What begins as a taut thriller gradually transforms into something more profound, a deeply human story that lingers long after the credits roll.

The movie rides primarily on the shoulders of Dileesh Pothan, who delivers a performance that reminds you why directors-turned-actors are becoming such a compelling trend in Malayalam cinema these days. But this movie isn't a one-man show by any stretch - Shajon, who could easily be considered a co-lead, matches Pothan's energy with a nuanced portrayal that keeps you invested in the story's emotional core.

Director Sarath Chandran R.J. crafts the narrative with remarkable restraint, allowing the thriller elements to breathe without overwhelming the character development. The film's setting across various towns in Kerala's Idukki district becomes almost a character itself, with the mountainous terrain and small-town dynamics providing an authentic backdrop.

What impressed me most was how the supporting cast elevated every scene they appeared in. Vijayaraghavan, as the family patriarch, brings gravitas without falling into the trap of melodrama that such roles often demand. His presence anchors the film's emotional weight beautifully. Lena, Zarin Shihab, and Hemanth Menon round out the ensemble with performances that feel organic to their characters' world.

The film's greatest strength lies in its understanding of pacing. Where many thrillers rush toward their revelations, Ouseppinte Osaythu takes its time, building tension through character interaction rather than manufactured suspense. By the time the thriller mechanics give way to the story's more human concerns, you're so invested in these people that the genre shift feels natural, even inevitable.

The cinematography captures the beauty of Idukki without romanticizing it, presenting these locations as places where real people live real lives rather than picture-postcard destinations. The technical aspects never draw attention to themselves, which in a film like this is exactly what you want.

If there's a minor quibble, it's that the film occasionally feels a bit too measured in its approach, but that's hardly a fault when the alternative is the breathless pacing that mars so many contemporary thrillers.  In a year where Malayalam cinema has delivered some impressive outings, this film stands out as one of 2025's better offerings.

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Ponman, featuring the "actor" Basil Joseph

Basil Joseph has been having an identity crisis for sometime now or maybe this was his endgame - to be an actor. Basil figured out that the best way to get the exact performance you want is to give it yourself. He hits an incredible home-run with the 2025 movie, Ponman, directed by Jotish Shanker. 

Following in the footsteps of Dileesh Pothan, who made the seamless transition from behind the camera to in front of it, Basil has delivered what might be his strongest acting performance yet in Ponman. It's funny how all these directors are suddenly discovering they can act better than half the people they've been directing.

Ponman arrives as one of 2025's better offerings, showcasing Basil's metamorphosis which has been happening since Jaya Jaya Jaya He (2022). Gone is the slightly awkward energy we've come to associate with his earlier acting attempts - here he's completely comfortable in his skin, delivering dialogue with the kind of natural rhythm that comes from understanding exactly what the scene needs. You can see the director's brain working behind the actor's eyes, but instead of feeling calculated, it feels precise. 

What makes Ponman particularly effective is how Jotish Shanker has positioned it in Kollam and captured the suffocating nuances of the dowry system. This is not just another family drama - it's a surgical examination of how gold becomes the measuring stick for a girl's worth. The entire narrative revolves around the crushing weight of expectation that families work their entire lives to accumulate enough gold ornaments for their daughter's wedding day. 

 The supporting cast, particularly Lijomol and Sajin Gopu, complement Basil's performance without getting overshadowed by his transformation. Lijomol especially brings a quiet dignity to her role. Sajin Gopu, as always, delivers with that effortless naturalism that makes you forget you're watching someone act. 

Jotish Shanker's direction keeps the focus tight on the family dynamics without getting preachy about the social commentary. The dowry system critique emerges organically from the characters' actions rather than through heavy-handed dialogue, which is probably why the movie works as well as it does. By the time the wedding sequences arrive, you're not just watching a celebration - you're watching the culmination of a system that has consumed everyone involved. 

Ponman might not revolutionize Malayalam cinema, but it does what good regional cinema should do, holds up a mirror to a specific community's practices while telling a universally relatable story about family expectations and the price we pay for tradition.

 

 

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