The Dangerous Allure of Cinematic Propaganda: Deconstructing *Dhurandhar: The Revenge*
The release of the Dhurandhar: The Revenge trailer has sent shockwaves across the internet, racking up millions of views in hours. But what’s truly shocking isn’t its viral success—it’s the brazen way it wields propaganda as entertainment. Personally, I think this trailer is a masterclass in how cinema can be weaponized, and it’s a trend that deserves far more scrutiny than it’s getting.
The Rise of Unapologetic Nationalism in Cinema
Let’s start with the elephant in the room: Dhurandhar isn’t just a film; it’s a statement. The first installment, loosely based on Karachi’s Lyari gang wars, already blurred the lines between fact and fiction. But the sequel? It doesn’t even bother with pretenses. The trailer opens with a scene that screams ‘We’re not hiding anything’, from the fictionalized Ajit Doval (R. Madhavan) to Ranveer Singh’s character beating the pulp out of someone. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it reflects a broader shift in Indian cinema—a move from subtle nationalism to unapologetic jingoism.
In my opinion, this isn’t just about storytelling; it’s about shaping narratives. The original Dhurandhar tried to cloak its hyper-nationalism in a veneer of realism, but the sequel throws that veneer out the window. The line ‘Pakistan ka mustaqbil ab Hindustan tae karey ga’ (India will now decide Pakistan’s future) isn’t just dialogue—it’s a declaration of intent. What this really suggests is that filmmakers like Aditya Dhar are no longer interested in nuance. They’re selling a black-and-white worldview, and audiences are eating it up.
The Problem with Propaganda as Entertainment
Here’s where things get troubling. Cinema has always been a powerful tool for cultural exchange. Look at the global love for Coke Studio Pakistan—it builds bridges. But films like Dhurandhar do the opposite. They don’t just entertain; they indoctrinate. One thing that immediately stands out is how the trailer glorifies violence as a means to an end. Sanjay Dutt’s character, for instance, delivers threats with the same tone he used in Munna Bhai MBBS, but the context is far darker. This isn’t comedy; it’s a celebration of brutality in the name of patriotism.
What many people don’t realize is that this kind of messaging has long-term consequences. When a film portrays Pakistan as an existential threat and India as the savior, it reinforces stereotypes that are already deeply entrenched. Dhar’s previous film, Uri: The Surgical Strike, did the same thing—it turned a complex geopolitical issue into a hero-vs-villain narrative. If you take a step back and think about it, this isn’t just about box office numbers; it’s about shaping public opinion in a way that’s both dangerous and divisive.
The Role of Government in Cinematic Narratives
A detail that I find especially interesting is the increased presence of Ajay Sanyal (R. Madhavan) in the trailer. Sanyal, a fictionalized version of Ajit Doval, isn’t just a character—he’s a symbol of the current government’s influence on popular culture. The mantra he gives to the protagonist, ‘Honsla, Eendhan, Badla’ (Courage, Fuel, Vengeance), feels less like dialogue and more like a political slogan. This raises a deeper question: Are filmmakers like Dhar genuinely driven by artistic vision, or are they simply echoing the rhetoric of those in power?
From my perspective, the answer is clear. Dhurandhar: The Revenge isn’t just a film; it’s a tool for political messaging. And while propaganda has always been a part of cinema, its normalization in mainstream Indian films is alarming. It’s not just about demonizing Pakistan—it’s about creating a narrative where India’s actions, no matter how extreme, are justified. This isn’t storytelling; it’s state-sanctioned storytelling, and it’s a slippery slope.
The Long-Term Damage to Regional Peace
What this really suggests is that films like Dhurandhar aren’t just harmless entertainment. They’re contributing to a culture of hatred that’s already deeply rooted in the India-Pakistan relationship. The damage isn’t immediate, but it’s insidious. Millions of viewers, especially younger ones, are being fed a diet of us-vs-them narratives that leave no room for empathy or understanding.
Personally, I think the most tragic part is how easily this could be different. Cinema has the power to unite, to challenge, to inspire. But when it’s used as a weapon, it becomes a force for division. The success of Dhurandhar isn’t just a testament to its marketing—it’s a reflection of the audience’s appetite for simplistic, nationalistic narratives. And that, in my opinion, is the real tragedy.
Final Thoughts: The Price of Uncritical Patriotism
As the trailer for Dhurandhar: The Revenge continues to dominate the internet, it’s worth asking: What are we gaining, and what are we losing? The film might break box office records, but at what cost? In a region already fraught with tension, do we really need more fuel for the fire?
If you take a step back and think about it, the answer is obvious. Cinema should be a mirror to society, not a hammer. But as long as films like Dhurandhar are celebrated, that mirror will only reflect what we want to see—not what we need to see. And that, in my opinion, is the most dangerous propaganda of all.
