Kartavya (2026) Review!!

Synopsis – A police officer faces a moral dilemma when threats endanger his family, forcing him to choose between protecting his loved ones and honoring his oath to serve justice.

My Take – Backed by Shah Rukh Khan’s Red Chillies Entertainment, Pulkit’s filmmaking approach emerged as the backbone of the 2024 Netflix release Bhakshak, giving the film its raw urgency and moral weight. By grounding the story in authenticity and courage, he elevated it beyond a simple dramatization of a real case, shaping it into a cinematic call to conscience. Even when pacing issues surface, his commitment to truth and emotional resonance keeps the audience engaged, and his dual role as director and co‑writer proves essential in ensuring the film resonates beyond its thriller framework.

While his immediate follow‑ups Dedh Bigha Zameen (2024) and Maalik (2025) passed largely unnoticed, his latest project arrives with the right amount of anticipation. The reunion with Red Chillies and Netflix is part of the appeal, but the greater intrigue lies in his choice to present Saif Ali Khan’s police officer not as a larger than life hero but as a man unraveling under relentless pressure.

The intention behind the story is clear from the very beginning. The film seeks to explore duty, caste, power, morality, corruption, family pressure, and emotional exhaustion all at once. At times it succeeds beautifully, especially in its quieter moments. For a while, it convinces you that you are watching a sharp, hard‑hitting crime drama rooted in the realities of Northern India.

Then the cracks begin to show, and what starts with tension and purpose gradually slips into something more familiar and forgettable. It becomes a film that struggles under the weight of its own ambition, searching for emotional highs that the screenplay never fully delivers. The result feels like two separate films awkwardly stitched together with threads too fragile to carry the emotional burden of either story.

Predictability and easy closures dominate the second half, leaving the experience ultimately disappointing. Yet even within this flawed structure, Saif Ali Khan towers over the material. His performance is intelligent and emotionally layered, so compelling that he almost convinces you the film around him is more complete than it truly is. He deserves a stronger canvas, but his work here remains the most powerful reason to watch.

Set in Jhamli, a fictional town in Haryana, the story follows SHO Pawan Malik (Saif Ali Khan), a police officer whose personal and professional life are both steadily unraveling. At work, he and his trusted subordinate Ashok (Sanjay Mishra), are drawn into the murder investigation of a reputed journalist. The journalist had arrived in town to probe the powerful godman Anand Shri (Saurabh Dwivedi), whose influence is shadowed by disturbing allegations of exploiting minors for illegal activities.

At home, Pawan faces a different kind of turmoil. His relationship with his orthodox father (Zakir Hussain) grows increasingly strained when his younger brother elopes with a girl from a lower caste, igniting tensions within the family. Amid this chaos, the only source of solace in Pawan’s life is his wife Varsha (Rasika Dugal), who understands his silence even when he cannot articulate his pain. As the investigation deepens, Pawan begins to question not only the criminals he is chasing but also the integrity of those working beside him.

On paper, this has the makings of an intense crime thriller. The film sketches a portrait of a man torn between duty and despair, unraveling under the weight of corruption, family conflict, and moral exhaustion. The atmosphere is taut, the investigation unfolds with intrigue, and the narrative seems intent on exposing the unsettling overlap between caste politics, policing, and blind devotion. There is texture in the setting and confidence in the way conflict is introduced.

The sections involving panchayats and caste violence are among the most effective, capturing the disturbing casualness with which conversations around honor killings occur. Violence here is not treated as shocking, because for many characters it has been normalized into tradition disguised as morality.

Equally compelling is the portrayal of policing. The film resists romanticizing the system, instead acknowledging how power operates within law enforcement and how political influence often outweighs justice. At its best, it exposes the uneasy relationship between police, local power structures, and religious authority. The idea of a god figure eclipsing the law feels chillingly believable in this world.

Yet the promise gradually disappears. What begins with tension and purpose slips into a more generic and frustrating narrative. The two strands of the story, compelling on their own, suffocate each other when forced together. This becomes most evident in the character of Anand Shri. Positioned as a dangerous and influential figure, he never feels fully realized. His menace remains surface‑level, lacking psychological depth, unpredictability, or ideological weight. He is a half‑written villain burdened with ideas the screenplay never explores. Even entire portions of the story feel abandoned midway.

Questions raised at the beginning are left unanswered, motivations remain unclear, and major reveals arrive without emotional or narrative build‑up. The investigation itself loses shape, as though the script is more interested in stringing together dramatic moments than in constructing a coherent mystery.

However, Saif Ali Khan keeps the film watchable. Even in moments where the writing falters, he manages to hold the audience’s attention with a portrayal that feels restrained and authentic. The Haryanvi accent occasionally slips into exaggeration, but his emotional quotient remains consistent and true. There is a visible tiredness in his eyes throughout, and that fatigue perfectly suits the character. By refusing to chase heroism in every frame, he makes the performance more believable. Had the screenplay matched his intensity, this could easily have been discussed as one of the year’s finest turns in Indian cinema.

Sanjay Mishra once again proves his mettle by being among India’s most dependable actors, bringing quiet strength and credibility to every scene. Rasika Dugal, despite limited screen time, adds remarkable emotional depth, her presence grounding Pawan’s turmoil. Manish Chaudhari and Zakir Hussain bring nuance to the narrative, while Yudhvir Ahlawat as Harpal delivers a performance that lingers long after.

The weak link is Saurabh Dwivedi, whose casting feels entirely misplaced. His presence lacks menace, and the role demanded psychological depth and unpredictability, but what we get instead is surface‑level intimidation that never convinces. On the whole, ‘Kartavya’ is a middling dramatic thriller with strong thematic intent but ultimately undermined by a weak and uneven screenplay.