Raazi

An inexperienced Indian college student, sent across the border to spy on the Pakistani enemy, is a dicey game for obvious reasons. But making a movie about said spy comes with its own set of risks, from appearing juvenile and simplistic to sagging with overzealous nationalism. Yet, between a more sensitive screenplay penned by director Meghna Gulzar and highly capable band of supporting actors to perform it, Raazi manages to maneuver around, if not completely steer clear of, several pitfalls.

Positioned as a homage to unsung heroes far from the front lines, this screen adaptation of Harinder S. Sikka’s based-on-real-life book “Calling Sehmat,” takes us back to 1971, when simmering tensions in the subcontinent threaten to bubble over into war in East Pakistan. With an attack imminent and intelligence on both sides working overtime, Kashmiri businessman and double-agent Hidayat Khan (Rajit Kapur) volunteers his daughter, Sehmat (Alia Bhatt), to be planted as a mole for Indian operatives by marrying her off to Iqbal Syed (Vicky Kaushal), the army officer son of a Pakistani family headed by a prominent brigadier (Shishir Sharma). Raised to value her nation over even her own life and determined to fulfil her dying father’s wishes, the soft-spoken Sehmat quietly but willingly obliges, and after a brief bout of training, crosses the border into her new home, where her days are a tricky balance of domesticity and espionage: buttering her husband’s morning toast, sending Morse Code messages back home in a locked bathroom, leading Pakistani schoolchildren in patriotic verses of “Ae Watan,” and snooping around Brigadier Syed’s home office.

It’s enough to put any 20-year-old completely out of their depth; indeed, while Bhatt’s screen presence doesn’t falter (and her cherubic face and delicately embroidered pastel salwar-kurtas effectively paint her as the picture of innocence), she does betray some struggle with the role here—a first for the gifted actor who, in her young but impressive career, hasn’t seemed to break the slightest sweat with any of her characters to date. As the burden of Sehmat’s endeavor weighs all the more heavily and her cover comes dangerously close to being blown on several occasions, Bhatt is quick to let Sehmat’s growing anxiety manifest in exaggerated gasps of panic or convulsing sobs, cracking her façade in a way that often feels more like overacting than convincing distress. Although perhaps intended to remind us that spies are human, too, these moments do more to temporarily remove us from the narrative than to make us more invested in what’s at stake.

Only adding to the implausibility is the perplexing fact that Sehmat’s giveaway expressions and not-quite-watertight tactics seem to completely escape the Syed men, who supposedly have spent their entire adult lives protecting their country. Watching them miss the evidence even when it points unmistakably in her direction, we are simultaneously relieved by her close calls and incredulous at their ignorance.

But there’s enough here to make Raazi a compelling watch, stemming from a lengthy but focused screenplay and a stellar peripheral cast, both of which refuse to reduce characters to stereotypes or subject India and Pakistan to tired good and evil biases. The Syeds are good-natured and quick to embrace their Indian daughter-in-law, while Sehmat’s no-nonsense but big-hearted training officer (a superb Jaideep Ahlawat) stoically reminds her that she may have to kill on the mission, but is also the only one to ask her why she has agreed to pause—and potentially end—her own life for the cause (she answers that she sees no difference between herself and her country). In fact, while some variation of “nothing is more important than my land” is uttered frequently throughout, Gulzar has taken it easy on jingoistic messaging here; the characters aren’t as bothered about bad-mouthing each other’s countries as they are about being devoted to their own. There’s an acknowledgment that both sides are merely fulfilling their duties—and in so doing, may share more in common than it seems.

Moreover, the avoidance of easily digestible binaries leaves room for the emotional quotient of Sehmat’s guilt as she juggles her deceptions with an increasingly fondness of her household, particularly her husband—a vulnerable and heartbreakingly sincere Kaushal, with whom Sehmat’s budding relationship adds another tier of complexity to her already-complicated undertaking.

The film does, disappointingly, become more “Bollywood” than necessary, particularly during the heavier-than-necessary climax, where Gulzar abandons any subtlety in favor of overt dialogue that dispels any lingering uncertainties about her position on cross-border hostility despite Sehmat’s nobility. But in the hands of a more indulgent filmmaker and a less refined cast, Raazi could have toppled even deeper into overkill. With a confident grip on the narrative, compassion for its characters, and moments of genuine suspense, Raazi passes as both a story of humanism and heroism.