Dhurandar and the Decline of Doubt

Cinema ceases to interpret reality when it begins to shape how that reality is understood.

There is a reason history is easier to watch. Even when it is selective, dramatised, or quietly biased, history comes with distance.  It allows us to engage without feeling implicated. We can question it, critique it, even reject it - but we are not inside it. The present offers no such comfort.

When cinema focuses on the present, it ceases to be a secure narrative space. It starts shaping how we interpret the world around us. That is when storytelling transforms into influence, persuasion, and sometimes even instruction.

I was reminded of this while watching the second half of ‘Dhurandhar 2.’ What began as narrative slowly hardened into assertion. Characters seemed less like individuals navigating complexity and more like instruments carrying a message. The film was no longer asking questions. It was providing answers.

Shaping Reality

This shift became particularly clear when the storyline started to mirror recent, recognisable events that remain part of our evolving public memory rather than distant, settled history. And when cinema engages with such material, it enters a different domain. It is no longer simply interpreting reality; it is actively shaping how that reality is understood.

At these moments, the narrative seemed to shift from depicting complexity to organising it. Situations that remain subjects of debate in public life were presented with a certain finality, as if their meaning had been settled and their implications resolved. The usual ambiguity surrounding such issues - the multiple viewpoints, the unresolved tensions - was noticeably missing.

Instead, what emerged was a linear clarity. And that clarity has consequences. When real, contested events are woven into a story with a clear narrative structure, the film offers not just a sequence of events, but a way of understanding them.

For the viewer, this creates a subtle yet significant shift. The focus shifts from asking ‘what happened’ to ‘how I should interpret what happened.’ And when that interpretation is presented without space for other possibilities, storytelling begins to resemble positioning. And that shift is not neutral.

Even those not yet compelled to take a stance can sense when a story ceases to invite interpretation and begins demanding alignment. Neutrality depends on ambiguity; it relies on the idea that multiple truths can coexist. However, once a narrative presents itself not as a perspective but as the reality, it destroys that space. The viewer is no longer a participant in creating meaning; they are being positioned.

This is not just a cinematic shift. It is a cultural one. We are shifting from an era of suggestion to one of certainty. From narratives that open windows to those that close ranks.

And yet, there was another layer that complicates this critique.

Unlike many films that direct anger at entire communities or nations, this one chose to clarify its conflict more precisely. The focus was on terrorism and terrorists — not identities. That distinction is important. It introduces a rational element into the story. It separates actions from identities, and in doing so, temporarily restores a sense of coherence. In fact, it even changes how violence is perceived.

Predetermined Conclusion

The physical aggression on screen persists, but it seems less random. Less like an emotional outburst and more like something structured within a clear logic. Precision, even if uncomfortable, can seem more acceptable than implication.

But that precision does not negate the wider concern. If anything, it intensifies it because it exposes how contemporary narratives function: assertive in tone, selective in clarity, and increasingly at ease with guiding the viewer towards a predetermined conclusion.

And when that assertiveness intersects with themes of policy, governance, or the state, the stakes shift. What might be defended as storytelling begins to be perceived as messaging. And the word that inevitably enters the discussion is propaganda even though it might not always be the intention. 

The moment audiences start to question why something is being said rather than focusing on what is being said, trust has already begun to shift. Or so one might think. Because that is not what I saw in the theatre.

There was applause, whistling, and moments of collective approval. The most forceful scenes elicited the loudest reactions, which prompts an uncomfortable question: do we, in fact, want to be told what to think?

Because the audience response suggests something else. It implies that certainty, when it matches existing beliefs or emotions, is not challenged but rewarded. What might otherwise seem like an imposition begins to feel like validation.

And validation is powerful. It transforms spectators into participants. It turns agreement into performance in form of clapping, cheering and affirming. The film is no longer just being watched; it is being collectively endorsed in real time. This complicates the idea of propaganda.

Propaganda is often seen as something imposed on a passive audience. But what if the audience isn’t passive at all? What if it is actively looking for narratives that confirm, simplify, and strengthen what it already feels?

Cinema no longer just shapes opinion; it responds to, amplifies, and feeds it back with greater certainty. The risk lies in that shift - not because people are being told what to think, but because they may be becoming more comfortable with being told.

The danger, then, is not only in assertive storytelling but also in the quiet erosion of our appetite for complexity. Because once certainty becomes satisfying, ambiguity begins to feel like weakness.

And stories that ask questions may start to seem less compelling than those that provide answers.

This takes us back to the original discomfort. Perhaps the problem is not merely that cinema is becoming more assertive. Maybe it is that we, as audiences, are becoming more open to that assertiveness. And if that is true, the question is no longer about filmmakers. It concerns us as well.

(The writer is a learning and development professional. Views personal.)