Director: Faruk Kabir
Cast: Naveen Kasturia, Mouni Roy, Mukesh Rishi, Surya Sharma, Purnendu Bhattacharya, Ashwath Bhatt
Writers: Faruk Kabir, Spandan Mishra, Srinivas Abrol, Swati Tripathi
Platform: JioHotstar
Episodes: 5 (Approx. 30 minutes each)
Language: Hindi
Rating: 2
In a time when spy thrillers are a dime a dozen and India’s OTT space is saturated with stories of border-line heroism, nuclear threats, and undercover agents with impeccable disguises, Salakaar arrives with the promise of being a sharp, real-life-inspired geopolitical drama. Unfortunately, the series spends most of its runtime reminding us what could have been, had it trusted its own material more.
Set across two timelines — 1978 and 2025 — the show attempts to stitch together the covert brilliance of a young Indian agent inside Pakistan and the present-day reverberations of a resurfacing nuclear threat. The bones of the story are clearly inspired by real-life espionage master Ajit Doval, although the series fictionalizes key names and events.
We meet Adhir Dayal (Naveen Kasturia), a young Indian diplomat with more than paperwork on his mind, planted inside Pakistan’s diplomatic circles in the 1970s. He’s attempting to derail the country’s nuclear ambitions under the nose of General Zia (Mukesh Rishi). Cut to the present day, and a now-aged Adhir — now Purnendu Sharma (Purnendu Bhattacharya) — oversees RAW’s latest operative Maryam (Mouni Roy), who is tracking a new Pakistani colonel (Surya Sharma) planning to revive Project Kahuta.
Naveen Kasturia once again proves he can carry intensity and intelligence with restraint. His portrayal of a low-key field agent works best when he’s not forced into clunky action or one-liners. Mukesh Rishi, while hamming it up at times, brings presence and power to General Zia. He may not be subtle, but he owns the space he's given.
The real misfire here is Mouni Roy, whose character starts off promising a capable, modern agent but is written into stereotypical corners that limit her performance to looking concerned or glamorous, rarely both with purpose. Surya Sharma, usually solid, is reduced to a caricature of a villain with a cricket bat and little nuance.
Director Faruk Kabir, best known for films like Khuda Haafiz, tries to blend the tension of Cold War thrillers with India-Pakistan melodrama. But the tone remains inconsistent. There are moments that hint at a smarter series like Adhir quietly gathering intel or leveraging diplomatic immunity but they’re quickly drowned out by scenes that feel either cartoonish or exaggerated for impact.
The writing team (Kabir, Mishra, Abrol, and Tripathi) seems to oscillate between wanting to create a cerebral espionage saga and a patriotic action drama. As a result, Salakaar has flashes of potential but is undone by cliché-laden scenes, heavy-handed dialogues, and implausible character choices.
Visually, Salakaar is competent. The production design convincingly re-creates 70s-era Pakistan, though the attention to detail suffers in modern-day scenes. The cinematography by Kabir Lal is serviceable, and the music score feels functional rather than elevating.
However, the biggest issue is pacing and editing. Clocking in at just 2.5 hours across five episodes, it could have been a taut film. Instead, it feels stretched, with multiple sequences that either repeat information or fail to build momentum.
Salakaar benefits from a solid premise rooted in real historical events, giving it an inherently intriguing foundation. Naveen Kasturia delivers a controlled, quietly intense performance that anchors much of the series, while Mukesh Rishi brings an authoritative presence to the screen that helps elevate even the more exaggerated scenes.
However, the series is ultimately weighed down by several missteps. Its inconsistent tone — swinging between gritty realism and over-the-top drama — creates genre confusion that hampers immersion. Character arcs are disappointingly shallow, leaving little room for emotional investment. The portrayal of geopolitical conflict leans heavily on stereotypes, reducing complex narratives into simplistic binaries. Mouni Roy’s character, despite initial promise, falls into the trap of weak female representation, relying more on appearance than agency. Above all, the show struggles to generate any real suspense or urgency, which is critical for a spy thriller — resulting in a story that feels more like a missed opportunity than a compelling watch.
Salakaar is a spy series that forgets its core mission — to intrigue, inform, and thrill. Instead, it takes an intriguing concept and oversimplifies it, squandering its narrative potential. There’s a compelling story buried somewhere here, based on real operatives and unsung heroes, but it never rises above its surface-level storytelling.
India’s quest for its own Argo or Munich continues. For now, Salakaar is another step in the right direction with the wrong shoes.