Subedaar review: This Subedaar is too Sub-paar
While watching Anil Kapoor's highly anticipated Subedaar—an action thriller about a retired soldier who almost descends into vigilantism against the local sand mafia—it felt like watching a high-octane drama that tries to put its foot on the accelerator without realizing it has an empty tank.
The premise of a film, helmed by Suresh Triveni, is undeniably strong. The film’s first 15 minutes set a simmering, effective tone: a story of a brave man struggling to bury his rage. After 25 years of service, Subedaar Arjun Maurya (Anil Kapoor) returns home to find that his hardest battle isn’t on the border—it’s at his doorstep. Broken by the loss of his wife and distanced from his daughter, Shyama (Radhika Madan), Arjun clings to his one remaining anchor: a red Gypsy gifted by his late wife. The town Arjun returns to, however, is no longer the home he remembers; it is a landscape hollowed out by the rampant greed of the local sand mafia. At the helm of this illegal mining empire is the formidable Babli Didi (Mona Singh), who exerts cold, calculated control even from behind bars, alongside her arrogant and impulsive younger brother, Prince (Aditya Rawal). Their operation is protected by a literal army of goons, a predictable byproduct of an industry built on lawlessness. When Prince attempts to recruit the veteran and makes the fatal mistake of disrespecting his prized vehicle, he inadvertently awakens a sleeping giant. It’s a classic "wrong man to mess with" scenario that promises a gritty descent into justice—but unfortunately, the momentum stalls shortly after the engine starts.
In most modern action-thrillers—particularly those borrowing from the "Western" style—the first act often serves as a slow-burn buildup to a high-stakes second half. Subedaar, however, manages a strange and disappointing reversal. The opening sequence is remarkably effective, showing us the complete control of Price over the town when he nonchalantly kills a mazdoor. It promises a nuanced slow-burn action thriller, when we see veteran Arjun is trying to transition to civilian life. But the moment Arjun finally decides to fight back, the film loses its soul. What should have been a visceral escalation instead devolves into a generic, formulaic actioner that we have seen countless times before. Instead of gaining momentum as it enters the second act, the narrative tension simply evaporates.
Despite the contemporary trappings—like the villain Prince (Aditya Rawal) flaunting his power through tacky Instagram reels holding a gun in one hand—the narrative structure feels stubbornly stuck in the 1990s. It is essentially a vintage Bollywood revenge potboiler, minus the the high-energy musical breaks that usually made those films palatable. Prince himself is a cartoonish relic; he nonchalantly guns down young mazdoors and holds families hostage to stall court testimonies, embodying a brand of one-dimensional villainy that feels out-dated in 2026.
Even the introduction of his incarcerated elder sister, Babli Didi (Mona Singh), fails to inject the fresh menace the story desperately needs. While she is positioned as the mastermind controlling the entire family business and a small army of goons from behind bars, the execution is purely formulaic. It is a classic case of a film having all the right ingredients—a promising premise, a gritty atmosphere, and a talented cast—only to be let down by a regressive screenplay.
Equally disappointing is the handling of Radhika Madan’s character, Shyama. As Subedaar’s daughter, she is initially positioned as a fierce, independent young woman fighting a dual battle: one against the deep-seated patriarchal mindset of her small town, where she is relentless bullied by her classmate in her own classroom,
and another against her father who is trying to make up for all the years he lost being a father. There was a rich opportunity here to explore the generational friction between a father who fought external wars and a daughter fighting internal social ones. Her struggle for agency is eventually sidelined for the sake of loud action beats, leaving her character feeling half-baked and underutilized. Madan brings her signature intensity to the role, but she is ultimately trapped in a narrative that doesn't seem to know what to do with her beyond making her a catalyst for hero’s transformation. It’s a recurring theme in the film—strong potential sacrificed at the altar of outdated tropes.
Adding to the sluggish pace is the inclusion of Saurabh Shukla as the protagonist's "typical" best friend. While Shukla is a veteran actor, his character feels entirely expendable. Tasked with advising Arjun to control his rage and injecting moments of levity through banter, his scenes often feel childish and out of place. Had this character been edited out entirely, the story would have remained unchanged; in fact, it would have tightened the narrative and allowed the core tension to breathe.
Despite the narrative stalls, the film is anchored by a set of powerhouse performers who do their best to elevate the mediocre material. Anil Kapoor remains as magnetic and ageless as ever, carrying the emotional weight of a weary soldier with ease. Aditya Rawal brings a volatile, modern energy to the screen as the arrogant Prince, while Mona Singh commands every scene she is in, projecting a cold, calculated authority the incarcerated Babli Didi. Radhika Madan, too, delivers a layered performance as Arjun’s daughter Shyama, effectively portraying both the vulnerability of a grieving daughter and the defiance of a young woman fighting a patriarchal system. While the actors lean heavily into specific dialects to ground their characters, since I am personally unfamiliar with the nuances of that specific region's local dialect, I couldn't quite tell if their delivery felt natural or a slightly forced.
Subedaar's another redeeming qualities is its visual groundedness. The film is shot extensively on real locations, and this commitment to authenticity pays off. The dusty lanes, the oppressive atmosphere of the illegal mining sites, and the lived-in feel of the town itself are captured with a gritty realism that makes the setting feel like a character in its own right. As a viewer, we aren't just watching a story unfold on a set; it make us feel immersed in the geography of the town.
While Subedaar possesses a couple of redeeming qualities, they ultimately aren't enough to save the film from failing its own high expectations. It is deeply frustrating to watch a project with all the right ingredients—a promising premise, a gritty atmosphere, and a talented cast—only to see it let down by a regressive, formulaic screenplay. Watching this story unravel is like watching a professional soldier miss every single shot at point-blank range; the target is right there, but the execution is inexplicably wide of the mark.
Cast: Anil Kapoor, Radhika Madan, Mona Singh, Aditya Rawal
Writers: Suresh Triveni, Prajwal Chandrashekar
Director: Suresh Triveni
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