This week in Indian cinema, two films explore love across divides—Dhadak 2 confronts caste and heartbreak with sober sincerity, while Son of Sardaar 2 bursts into bagpipes, buffoonery, and borrowed patriotism, each stumbling over substance in pursuit of spectacle. Arnab Banerjee reviews them.

This week, The Daily Eye dives into two polar-opposite offerings from Bollywood: Dhadak 2, a caste-conscious romantic drama by debutant Shazia Iqbal, and Son of Sardaar 2, Vijay Kumar Arora’s chaotic comic sequel set in Scotland. While Dhadak 2 attempts to grapple with systemic injustice through the lens of a doomed romance, Son of Sardaar 2 opts for slapstick, stereotypes, and Deepak Dobriyal’s standout performance in a wedding mess of mistaken identities and faux nationalism. These cinematic contrasts spotlight Bollywood’s ongoing struggle to balance social relevance with crowd-pleasing chaos. 

Dhadak 2

Caste Matters, Love Falters in this well-intentioned misfire!

Direction: Shazia Iqbal

Cast: Triptii Dimri, Siddhant Chaturvedi, Zakir Hussain, Anubha Fatehpura, Vipin Sharma, Deeksha Joshi

Cinematography: Sylvester Fonseca

Music: Tanuj Tiku | Songs: Rochak Kohli, Tanishk Bagchi, Javed-Mohsin, Shreyas Puranik

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

If Pariyerum Perumal (2018) was a burning manifesto against caste oppression, Dhadak 2 is the government-issued pamphlet version—neatly formatted, slightly sanitized, and laminated for upper-caste convenience.

A Hindi remake of Mari Selvaraj’s Tamil classic, Dhadak 2 attempts a daring high-wire act: to tackle India’s caste realities without disturbing the comfort zones of mainstream Bollywood viewers. It's also branded as a spiritual sequel to 2018’s Dhadak, a film so committed to looking away from caste, it practically made erasure an aesthetic. In that sense, Dhadak 2 is a kind of karmic correction—only this time, the characters do mention caste out loud. Occasionally.

Set in a vague “Hindi heartland” (geography was apparently too casteist to be named), Dhadak 2 follows Neelesh (Siddhant Chaturvedi), a Dalit law student with dreams of justice and—poor thing—romance. He secures a spot in the prestigious National University of Law through reservation, and while most Bollywood heroes fight corrupt politicians or dance on Swiss hills, Neelesh battles that deadliest of foes: everyday systemic discrimination.

Enter Vidhi (Triptii Dimri), an upper-caste classmate with kohl-rimmed eyes and progressive aspirations—until, of course, caste becomes inconvenient. Their chemistry blooms like a Bollywood monsoon romance, except the rain starts five minutes after they meet and ends with thunderous declarations of love faster than you can say “writing workshop.”

The film throws in the right set pieces: disapproving relatives, casteist classmates, a sinister cousin named Ronnie (because no villain is complete without an Anglo nickname), and a lurking hitman (Saurabh Sachdeva), whose side hustle seems to be murdering lovebirds who overstep caste lines. A modern Romeo-Juliet redux—except this Verona has WhatsApp, caste pride, and shotgun weddings.

There’s also Shekhar (Priyank Tiwari), a fierce student activist clearly modelled after Rohith Vemula, reminding Neelesh—and the audience—that Dalit identity is not something you choose, but something chosen for you at birth. His fiery presence lights sparks, though the film never dares to let the fire burn too long.

To its credit, Dhadak 2 doesn’t entirely shy away from harsh truths. It puts caste front and centre in moments—just not consistently, or with enough depth to shake us. Like a dinner guest gesturing at big problems between mouthfuls of biryani, it’s aware but not committed. The film wants to rage against the machine, but not enough to upset ticket sales.

The biggest failing? Love. Not metaphorical, but actual. The supposed central romance between Neelesh and Vidhi feels like it was written during an ad break. They fall in love quicker than you can recite the Preamble, and their chemistry has the warmth of an arranged Zoom call.

Iqbal, in her debut, shows flashes of promise. The film's intent is clear, even noble. But intent alone does not make great cinema. There’s a difference between sincerity and storytelling. You can have your heart in the right place, and still miss the jugular.

At 146 minutes, Dhadak 2 wants to be an eye-opener. What it often ends up being is a well-meaning lecture that forgets the students left the room 20 minutes ago. It doesn’t disturb us, doesn’t make us uncomfortable, and most fatally, doesn’t linger.

The tragedy isn’t just Neelesh’s fate, but that of a film that had every tool—an urgent subject, an able cast, and a real-world crisis—to wound us, but chose instead to paper-cut us gently and hope we’d call it profound.

Siddhant Chaturvedi bears the weight of his role like a student burdened with an overstuffed satchel—earnest, heavy, and visibly strained. His portrayal of the wronged and weary Neelesh feels like the result of meticulous homework, yet the emotional dividends don’t quite reach those of us meant to walk beside him through the corridors of pain, injustice, and quiet defiance.

Triptii Dimri, now a few films into her journey, continues to bloom with quiet intensity. There’s a lyrical grace to her performance—she makes you cry without asking for your tears, smile without a punchline, and laugh in moments that sting with truth. In a world full of stumbling blocks and unpaved paths, she makes the ride—however bumpy—strangely beautiful.

Son of Sardaar 2

Dobriyal Drops the Beat—and the Best Performance in a Wedding Film

Director: Vijay Kumar Arora

Cast: Ajay Devgn, Mrunal Thakur, Deepak Dobriyal, Kubra Sait, Ravi Kishen, Mukul Dev, Vindoo Dara Singh

Music Songs: Jaani, Tanishk Bagchi, Harsh Upadhyay, Lijo George – DJ Chetas, Tejwant Kittu, Jay Mavani, Sunny Vik

Score: Amar Mohile, Salil Amrute

Rating: ★☆☆☆☆

Son of Sardaar 2 is back, and this time the sardaar has swapped swords for bagpipes—aye, we’re in Scotland now, lads! Directed by Punjabi punch specialist Vijay Kumar Arora and bankrolled by Ajay Devgn (also starring, obviously), Jyoti Deshpande, N.R. Pachisia and Pravin Talreja, this one’s a chaotic cocktail of comedy, culture clashes, and complete confusion.

A standalone sequel to the 2012 madcap masala-fest Son of Sardaar, this film dares to ask the question: What happens when you mix a fake war hero, a dysfunctional band, a confused wedding, and Ravi Kishan’s eyebrows into one movie? Apparently, a whole lot of madness.

The plot? Let’s just say it’s more tangled than a pair of wired earphones in a jeans pocket. Our man Jassi (Ajay Devgn), fresh off a long exile (probably dodging sequels), flies to bonnie Scotland to win back his estranged wife (Neeru Bajwa). But instead of rekindling romance, he finds himself knee-deep in cross-border chaos featuring a mob rivalry, a desi wedding gone rogue, and a mistaken identity twist that feels like Comedy of Errors... rewritten by Rohit Shetty during a sugar rush.

And yes, speaking of Shetty, the Golmaal franchise godfather himself pops in for a cheeky cameo—just to remind you that logic left the chat 20 minutes ago.

Enter Rabia (Mrunal Thakur), a Pakistani wedding singer and accidental stepmother to Sara (Roshni Walia). She’s part of an all-female band that includes the fabulous Mehwish (Kubra Sait) and the scene-stealing Gul, a transwoman played with unexpected grace and comic timing by Deepak Dobriyal. Rabia is reluctantly married to Danish (Chunky Pandey, who else?), her dead sister’s husband, because well... why not?

The plot thickens (like good Punjabi gravy) when Sara falls for Gogi (Sahil Mehta), a turban-wearing Romeo from an ultra-patriotic Indian Sikh family led by Premlata (Ashwini Kalsekar), Raja (Ravi Kishan), and the gruff old deshbhakt Ranjit Singh (Sharat Saxena). Now, here's the kicker: to convince Gogi’s anti-Pakistan family, Rabia ropes in Jassi to pretend he's a retired Indian Army colonel—because nothing says "trustworthy" like military cosplay and a bad Punjabi accent.

Cue comedy of impersonation, testosterone-fueled patriotism tests, and a group of uncles (including Mukul Dev and Vindoo Dara Singh) who act like they’re auditioning for a sardar version of Bigg Boss. And somewhere amidst all this noise, a love story tries to sneak in, whispering, "Excuse me, is there space for me?"

The film’s structure resembles a plate of wedding buffet chaat—messy, loud, too many flavours, but strangely enjoyable if you’re in the mood for chaos. Mrunal Thakur and Ravi Kishan do their best to hold the plot together with duct tape and expressions of increasing disbelief. Ajay Devgn plays Jassi with the usual swagger, looking permanently confused but committed. Devgn feels miscast as the wide-eyed innocent who somehow always gets his way, while Kishan strikes a far better balance, blending humour and gravitas with surprising ease. And Deepak Dobriyal? The real MVP. As Gul, he delivers the laughs with a deadpan face and none of the overdone gimmicks—a rare Bollywood moment of dignity and delight.

At its heart, Son of Sardaar 2 is less about storytelling and more about spectacle. It’s an unapologetic circus—complete with dhol beats, dramatic reveals, mistaken paternity, patriotic dad jokes, and a generous drizzle of desi madness.

So if you like your comedy with a side of chaos, nationalism dressed in drag, and Scottish bagpipes backing up bhangra beats—Son of Sardaar 2 might just be your guilty pleasure. Just don’t ask for logic. It left on the first flight to Amritsar.