Film Reviews

September 3, 2026

I am sure there is a large and loyal fanbase for "Gandhari," the new action thriller from India, but alas, I am not among them. Despite the high viewership numbers on Netflix, which could suggest quality, this is a goofy, frivolous movie akin to a soap opera, and the story is all over the map. And even though it probably knows exactly who its audience is, it nevertheless spoon feeds them with what they want to see and hear, incorporating over-the-top characters and presenting them in what feels like a Saturday morning cartoon show, with embellished violence, random narrative developments, and laughable overacting.

And yet, as silly as it is, "Gandhari" isn't painful. In fact, I recognize its value, because there is a spirit and enthusiasm about it that will surely please its target demographic. It would have been one thing if the film was harmful and offensive, but it's not, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least curious about how the ridiculous plot turned out. What's more is that, despite being clownish and absurd, "Gandhari" has its heart in the right place, although one of its flaws is that it tries to take on too much. It wants to be a stunt-filled action thriller and a social commentary at the same time, and while I believe these two sides can co-exist in one movie, "Gandhari" doesn't land the plane. We recognize some of its efforts, but we're mostly brushing it off.

In the film, directed by Devashish Makhija and written by Kanika Dhillon, Bani (Taapsee Pannu) and Gokul (Ishwak Singh) are the young parents to 5-year-old Mishty (Myrah Shivan), whom they dote over with poems and songs. While on holiday, the family's train makes a stop at the fictional city of Joypurra, where Mishty is abducted by a mysterious covered woman. Bani races to get her back but runs into a steel beam, the trauma of which leaves her temporarily blind.

The distraught and suffering parents beseech the local police for help, but to no avail. Hours and then days go by, and it begins to dawn on them, and us, that something is systemically amiss in Joypurra, where anyone and everyone, including the cops, teachers, hospital staff, etc., is corrupt and part of a greater underground criminal ring headed by the insidious Blackhole gang, whose M.O. is to kidnap and traffic children. Only one detective named Kabir (Jatin Sarna) seems clean and takes legitimate measures to stop Blackhole's operations.

Meanwhile, Bani goes through her own transformation and becomes quite the resolute heroine (the film's title refers to Queen Gandhari, from the epic Hindu poem "Mahabharata," during which Gandhari voluntarily blindfolds herself out of dedication to her blind husband). A dominant theme in the movie is that a mother's love is unconditional and knows no bounds, and indeed, a subtitle at the end of the film reads, "Behind every mother is a child...taken from a mother." However, this ties into what's most irreconcilable about "Gandhari," which is that Bani, with the help of an enigmatic mentor and trainer named Jhunu (Mita Vashishth), with whom she shares a complicated past, leverages her temporary blindness and former skills as a gymnast to become a sort of Daredevil-type superhero. Suddenly, the once mournful and self-pitying mother trades in her tears for flips, splits, and contorting her body every which way to unearth and attack Joypurra's corruption, eventually setting her eyes on taking down Blackhole's evil leader (Prashant Narayanan). With any luck, she'll also rescue Mishty and save all the other children from the gang's far-reaching clutches.

On one level, you have to give the movie credit for having the audacity to go down its incredulous, fanciful path. Substance-wise, we can also appreciate that Bani and Gokul's relationship is made more complicated and interesting than we initially expected it to be (Gokul has his own baggage and is developed beyond just the simple, helpless husband).

But the movie's boldness and ambitions only goes so far because, at the end of the day, we never really doubt how the plot will transpire or that it will all boil down to a routine good vs evil showdown (with the requisite slow-motion shots and improbable blows to the hero and villains' heads). Plus, for those of us who aren't overly familiar with or fans of this type of Indian action melodrama, it's hard to get over the incongruity and ludicrousness of the story. It's particularly hard to accept the serious subject matter (we're informed that 82,000 kidnappings happen each year in India, along with other sobering statistics) when the movie possesses a superhero sensibility and "Matrix"-style fights and stunts. The movie's attempt to be both an action-packed thriller and disquieting social commentary just doesn't come to a successful fruition.

"Gandhari" is almost a movie you have to see to believe because of how outrageous it is. To be clear, I don't recommend you do that, but if you do, at least Makhija and his cast infuse it with enough confidence and style to make it quixotic instead of distasteful. It's one thing if we're laughing at the movie's brazenness and well-meaning self-importance; it's another if we feel resentful toward it, and "Gandhari" doesn't insult us as much as amuse us.

Of the millions of movies out there on Netflix, why did I choose this one? Because it happened to be the most recent Netflix original at the time, and I stand by giving every film a chance. "Gandhari" is a preposterous action movie that's watchable but devoid of any real consequence or excitement. Sure, the standard-issue chase, martial arts, gun battle, and gruesome body dismemberment scenes hold our attention, but the stakes never really feel that high because it's so far-fetched and ultimately predictable. In the end, we're no better off for having watched "Gandhari." Although, to be fair, we're also no worse.