Does Indian cinema really suffer from a shortage of ageing men in action roles? With the nation’s average male superstar age steadily inching towards 60, the familiar “chacha-buddha” slander hardly makes sense today. But when director Suresh Triveni steps in with Anil Kapoor as the tough action hero, in a setup that offers no ‘Dabidi Dabidi’ to dance to, the proposition becomes instantly intriguing. That curiosity fuels Subedaar, a film that attempts to place Kapoor’s enduring screen energy within a rugged, massy canvas.
Triveni has previously delivered two compelling films – the sparkly Tumhari Sulu and the humane, unsettling Jalsa. Both were anchored by women and explored their emotional landscapes very well. Which raises an intriguing question: can the filmmaker channel the same insight into a testosterone-charged universe unfolding in the lawless heartland?
Subedaar follows a fairly familiar template – an aging yet strong protagonist pitted against a younger, volatile antagonist within a crime-soaked milieu.
In the film, Arjun Maurya (Anil Kapoor) is a retired Indian Army officer fighting two battles. The tougher one is at home, where his daughter Shyama (Radhika Madan) resents him for his absence during her mother’s (Kushboo Sundar) accidental death. The other plays out on the streets, where Maurya finds himself confronting Prince (Aditya Rawal), a dangerously entitled young man shielded by both privilege and the protection of his gangster stepsister Babli Dibi (Mona Singh), who continues to run operations from behind bars. There are mini irritants, such as an officer at a co-operative bank who is symbolic of systemic rot. The film doesn’t do much with this angle, but it helps provide insight into Arjun’s character.
The narrative attempts to flesh out Shyama’s character through memories of her late pickle-entrepreneur mother, who believed that her daughter had taken after her father. Inevitably, the personal and external conflicts collide, forcing father and daughter to confront the world and each other.
The undisputed highlight of Subedaar is its leading man. Indian cinema has seen many aging heroes attempt the late-career action pivot, but few carry it with the conviction Anil Kapoor does. In many ways, he feels like Bollywood’s closest equivalent to a desi John Wick. A single Nayak-like stare from Kapoor is enough to scorch the screen. Too bad the film isn’t a theatrical spectacle where Kapoor might have invited a fair share of hoots and claps.
Aditya Rawal, meanwhile, is saddled with a thankless character designed almost entirely to irritate. To his credit, he plays the unpleasantness to the hilt. We see Prince’s entitlement and emotional vacuum being contextualised through complex family dynamics. Yet beyond this, the character is merely an obsessive and increasingly exhausting villain. By the second half of Subedaar, the conflict loops in circles, and I was no longer interested in a brat who is ever-ready to “piss” us off – literally and otherwise.
Triveni fares better with his female characters. If Kushboo Sundar makes her only scene unforgettable, Mona Singh continues her dream run in 2026. Babli Dibi marks the second time she has played a gangster this year, and she is strikingly different from Happy Patel’s quirky Mama. There’s also a village woman (Snehalata Siddarth Tagde) and her son in the mix, but they appear only when the writers wish to force-fit a cause into the protagonist’s actions.
The screenplay (Suresh Triveni and Prajwal Chandrashekar), while rooted in a territory full of stories, just about sustains interest. It is surprising how Subedaar does little with one of its most promising elements – the mining mafia backdrop. What initially feels like fertile narrative ground gradually recedes as the story becomes centred on Arjun himself. The result is a film that seems to withhold its possibilities while banking largely on Kapoor’s charisma to drive momentum.
The action choreography is just about serviceable. Rarely does it deliver the kind of visceral high that would make us fully immerse ourselves in the film’s rustic energy. When the film lands a punch, it does so through writing and performance rather than any kind of technical dazzle. Ajay Saxena’s cinematography, however, deserves special mention. His sweeping aerial frames and intense close-ups give the film a scale that occasionally exceeds the material itself.
Another area where Subedaar falters is in its handling of Shyama’s arc. The harassment subplot and the developments around it feel rather grafted onto the main plot. One suspects the intention was to justify casting Radhika Madan in what might otherwise have been a catalytic role. The writing never allows the father-daughter relationship to blossom into a layered conflict.
That said, Triveni clearly understands the appeal of handing agency to a reluctant hero simmering with anger. The film’s finale, which borders on the bizarre, is gripping enough to hold our attention until the very end.
As a standalone film, Subedaar is neither particularly inventive nor does it demand an attentive watch lest you miss certain subtexts. But it remains a fairly entertaining watch, elevated significantly by Anil Kapoor’s brooding presence. And if the inevitable sequel manages to dig deeper into its world instead of settling for the familiar “you hurt me, I’ll hurt you more” dynamic, this could very well grow into something far more memorable.
VERDICT: ★★ 1/2
Subedaar premiered on Amazon Prime.
