There was this odd brightness on the streets the morning Dhurandhar opened, the kind that doesn’t come from the sun at all but from people who have already decided their day will be loud and dramatic. You could hear it in the way rickshaw drivers argued about showtimes, in the way teenagers sprinted toward a single screen like they were late for a festival. No one says it aloud, but a Ranveer Singh release does something peculiar to the city. It jolts it awake in a way even Monday traffic can’t.
Inside the lobby, the smell of popcorn mixed with that slightly metallic chill of overworked air conditioning, and the chatter kept rising like steam. Some folks were already quoting tweets they had read at dawn, calling Ranveer the best actor of his generation with the confidence of people repeating a truth, not an opinion. And honestly, watching the crowd, I could see why. When he walks into a film, people arrive early and stay late, almost as if they want to make sure they don’t miss even the shadows he throws on screen.
What the film does well, right from the opening frame, is commit. Aditya Dhar doesn’t tiptoe. He goes all in, building these cavernous scenes layered with grit and nerves and a score that sometimes feels like it’s vibrating through the seats. The action has weight, not the cartoonish kind, but the kind that makes your shoulders tense without you noticing. Every punch seems to drag a little history behind it.
Ranveer plays into this world with a sort of reckless certainty. He gives too much, then gives more, and the camera doesn’t fight him for space. If anything, it seems relieved he’s doing the heavy lifting. But the real surprise is how the energy shifts the moment Akshaye Khanna or Sanjay Dutt enters a scene.
Khanna brings this oddly elegant stillness, the kind that makes you lean forward just to catch the flicker in his eyes. Dutt, on the other hand, feels like he walked in from another decade entirely, carrying an aura that has nothing to do with nostalgia and everything to do with sheer presence. You remember, instantly, why he used to be called a storm even in his quietest roles.
Now, here’s where the film asks a bit from you. It is long.. Very long. You start noticing the runtime in small ways, like when someone shifts in their seat or when a couple trades glances as if silently negotiating an interval that never comes. At 214 minutes, Dhurandhar doesn’t care if you have dinner plans. It wants your time and doesn’t apologize. For some viewers, especially the younger ones hoping for a lighter ride, this might feel like pushing uphill. For others, the ones who enjoy being swallowed by a world until time stops mattering, the length becomes part of the atmosphere.
Stepping out afterwards, the conversations had this warm, chaotic honesty to them. A group of college kids broke down the set pieces with the intensity of friends analysing a cricket match. Someone insisted R. Madhavan stole the second half. Another kept repeating that Arjun Rampal looked dangerously good, like a villain someone had carved out of polished stone. An older man compared the film to a thali so full it becomes an experience more than a meal. I liked that description. It felt accurate in a way numbers never are.
Speaking of numbers, the box office buzz was humming in the background, but not loudly enough to dampen anyone’s mood. People knew about the huge advance sales, the softer first-morning net collections, yet no one seemed worried. If anything, the tone outside theatres felt like a gentle shrug. The film will figure itself out. Audiences will too. Bollywood might love predictions, but it runs on faith, not spreadsheets.
What lingers after watching Dhurandhar isn’t a single image or a twist or even the performances, though those stay with you. It’s the sensation of being dragged into a storm, maybe enjoying parts of it, maybe getting a little tired midway, but stepping out feeling slightly rearranged. Not transformed, just shifted. A little bruised, a little exhilarated, very aware of having lived through something oversized.
I don’t think the film is flawless. It leans too heavily on scale in places where intimacy would have landed harder. It indulges itself when it should breathe. But the things it gets right are vivid and loud and strangely satisfying. And maybe that’s the point. Dhurandhar isn’t trying to be delicate. It wants to overwhelm you, to crowd your senses, to make you talk about it over a late lunch because you’re still unsure where your own opinion has settled.
If you walk in expecting precision, you may frown. If you walk in wanting an experience, you’ll get exactly that. A big, cracked, roaring spectacle with a heartbeat you can feel through the floor.
Stay updated with the latest in fashion, lifestyle, and celebrity stories—straight from the world of Debonair. Follow us on Instagram, X (Twitter), Facebook, Youtube, and Linkedin for daily style and culture drops
Zayn blends critical thinking with genuine fandom. Whether it’s decoding OTT series arcs or rating the latest Bollywood blockbuster, he writes with clarity, pop fluency, and a dash of irreverence.
