Bollywood’s Latest Blockbuster Isn’t Just Entertainment—It’s a Political Statement. Dhurandhar, a Hindi film starring Ranveer Singh as an Indian spy infiltrating a Pakistani terror network, has sparked both admiration and outrage. But here’s where it gets controversial: the film isn’t just a spy thriller; it’s a prime example of what American writer Peter Maas termed ‘government-embedded filmmaking.’ While Maas’s concept originally referred to governments granting special access to military or intelligence documents in exchange for favorable portrayals, Dhurandhar takes it a step further. It faithfully reproduces the ideological narrative of India’s current government, blending commercial cinema with technical finesse to deliver a message that resonates deeply with Hindu nationalism. And this is the part most people miss: it does so without overt sloganeering, making its propaganda almost imperceptible—yet undeniably effective.
Unlike other films in this genre, Dhurandhar stands out for its blend of realism and commercial appeal, setting it apart from works like The Kashmir Files or The Kerala Story. Directed by Aditya Dhar, it avoids the melodrama that often characterizes such films, opting instead for a more nuanced—yet equally partisan—approach. But this nuance hasn’t shielded it from criticism. Dissenters, including film critics and actor Hrithik Roshan, have faced intense online harassment, highlighting the polarizing nature of the film.
The film’s fanbase is divided into two camps. The first proudly embraces it as a ‘cinematic correction,’ a counterstrike against what they see as Bollywood’s historical appeasement of Pakistan. They argue that Dhurandhar exposes the ‘real truths’ of Pakistani terrorism and that patriotism in cinema is not only justified but necessary. One fan even accused Hrithik Roshan of hypocrisy, pointing to his role in Jodhaa Akbar (2008), where he portrayed the Mughal emperor Akbar. The second camp denies the film is propaganda, framing it as a nationalist espionage drama akin to Hollywood’s patriotic blockbusters. But is this denial a misreading? As history shows, the most effective propaganda is often the kind you don’t notice.
Dhurandhar subtly reinforces the official narrative through its portrayal of Pakistan as a monolithic villain. Scenes depicting Pakistani terrorists chanting ‘Allah uh Akbar’ during brutal killings, or a hijacker declaring ‘Hindus are cowards,’ paint a one-sided picture. Notably absent are any Pakistani characters opposing terrorism or expressing solidarity with India. This omission primes viewers to adopt a binary worldview: ‘Muslim Pakistan’ versus ‘Hindu India.’ The film also criticizes past Indian governments for their ‘weak-kneed’ responses to terrorism, while lionizing figures like intelligence chief Ajay Sanyal (modeled after National Security Advisor Ajit Doval) and implicitly endorsing the current government’s muscular policies.
But here’s the kicker: Dhurandhar isn’t just about Pakistan-bashing. It also targets internal ‘enemies,’ accusing Congress-led governments and even a Union Minister of complicity in terror activities. References to slaughterhouses in Uttar Pradesh and a future ‘nationalist CM’ (a clear nod to Yogi Adityanath) further align the film with the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party’s (BJP) agenda. The film’s closing slogan, ‘Yeh Naya Bharat Hain, Ghar Mein Ghuske Maarta Hain’ (This is the new India, it will enter your home and attack you), echoes Prime Minister Modi’s rhetoric, cementing its status as a tool of political reinforcement.
Despite its attempts to humanize gangsters and depict modern nightlife, Dhurandhar fails to challenge stereotypes. Pakistan remains the ‘source of all terrorism,’ and its complexity—from critical post-26/11 newspaper articles to Karachi’s vibrant hip-hop scene—is erased. This selective memory isn’t new to Bollywood, which has long produced jingoistic films centered on Pakistan and Kashmir. What’s new is the film’s seamless integration of government narratives into a believable, commercially successful package.
So, is Dhurandhar a masterpiece of storytelling or a masterclass in propaganda? Its success reflects both the appetite for nationalist cinema and the decline of Bollywood’s nuanced military thrillers. But it also raises a troubling question: When does art stop being art and start becoming a tool of the state? Let’s debate this in the comments—do you see Dhurandhar as a patriotic film or a dangerous form of government-embedded filmmaking? Your take could spark the next big conversation.
