Dhadak 2 Review: Bold Caste Drama Falls Short of Potential

 I Just Watched Dhadak 2 and I'm Having a Lot of Feelings (Bear With Me)

It's Friday night, August 1st, and I'm sitting in my car outside the multiplex, trying to process what I just watched. My hands are still shaking a bit, and not from the overpriced cold coffee I stress-drank during interval.

You know that feeling when a movie hits too close to home? When you're watching something on screen and suddenly you're 15 again, remembering things you'd rather forget? Yeah. That's Dhadak 2 for me.

But let me back up.

Why I Almost Skipped This Movie Entirely

Full disclosure: I wasn't planning to watch this. The first Dhadak left such a bad taste in my mouth—taking Sairat's raw, brutal honesty and turning it into a glossy Dharma Productions package. It felt like someone took my grandmother's authentic recipe and turned it into instant noodles. Edible, but missing the soul.

So when Dhadak 2 was announced, I eye-rolled so hard I'm surprised my retinas didn't detach. Another sequel nobody asked for, I thought. Probably more sanitized social messaging wrapped in designer lehengas.

But then my college WhatsApp group started buzzing. "Guys, it's actually good." "No, like ACTUALLY good." "Siddhant Chaturvedi made me cry."

And Friday evening, with nothing better to do (okay, fine, I was supposed to be working on a presentation due Monday), I found myself buying a ticket. ₹380 for a regular seat because even the multiplex knows we're all broke after the inflation hit. The things I do for cinema.

The Theater Was... Interesting

7:30 PM show at Phoenix Marketcity. The crowd was unexpected. Usually for a film like this, you'd see mostly young couples and college kids. But I spotted uncles and aunties, some families, even a group of what looked like law students (they were carrying those massive legal textbooks).

Behind me, two girls were discussing whether Siddhant could pull off a serious role. "He's just a pretty boy from Gully Boy," one said. Her friend disagreed: "Did you see Kho Gaye Hum Kahan? Boy has range."

In front of me, an older couple was having a heated whispered argument. The wife wanted to watch Gadar 2 (yes, it's still running in some screens, don't ask). The husband insisted on Dhadak 2 because "beta, we need to support meaningful cinema."

Uncle, I thought, you have no idea what you're in for.

When the Movie Hit Me Like a Truck

Twenty minutes in, the theater was dead silent. Not the good kind of silent. The uncomfortable kind. The "oh shit, this is actually addressing real things" kind.

There's this scene where Neelesh (Siddhant's character) is at a college party. Everyone's having fun, music blaring, the usual college movie stuff. Then someone casually asks his last name. Just like that. A simple question. The way Siddhant's face changes—from relaxed to guarded to forcefully casual again—I felt that in my BONES.

I've been in that moment. Different context, but same feeling. When someone asks which part of town you're from and you know they're not really asking about geography. When they want to know your father's profession and you know they're doing social mathematics in their head.

The girl behind me who called him "just a pretty boy"? She shut up real quick after that scene.

Let's Talk About Triptii Dimri Though

Can we take a moment to appreciate how Triptii plays Vidhi? Because this isn't your typical "rich girl falls for poor boy" Bollywood heroine.

There's a scene where she's arguing with her family about Neelesh. In any other movie, she'd cry prettily and run to her room. Here? She stands there, voice steady, and systematically destroys every argument with legal precedents. Girl came with RECEIPTS.

But what got me was the smaller moments. The way she flinches when her own friends make casteist jokes. The way she slowly realizes that her "progressive" family is only progressive until it affects them directly. The journey from privileged ignorance to uncomfortable awareness to active resistance—it's not smooth, it's not pretty, and Triptii plays it with such honesty that it hurts.

The aunty in front (remember, the one dragged by her husband?) was nodding along during Vidhi's speeches. At one point, she turned to her husband and said, "This is why I wanted our daughter to study law." Uncle looked proud of his movie choice.

The Scenes That Made Me Forget I Was in a Theater

There's this sequence where Neelesh's father, a small shop owner, is humiliated by some upper-caste students. They make him clean their shoes. In broad daylight. While other students watch and do nothing.

The way Vipin Sharma plays that scene—the dignity he maintains even while being degraded, the way his hands shake not from fear but from suppressed rage—I had to look away. Actually, physically turn my head away from the screen.

But here's what killed me: the sound design. You can hear every scrape of cloth against leather. Every snicker from the watching students. Every heavy breath from the father trying to maintain composure. In the silence of the theater, it was deafening.

Someone a few rows ahead got up and left. Just walked out. I don't blame them. Sometimes reality on screen is harder to digest than any horror movie.

When the Movie Became Too Real

Halfway through, there's a student protest scene about reservations. The dialogue isn't subtle—it's angry, it's direct, it's uncomfortable. Students shouting about "merit" and "deserving candidates" and all those coded words we use when we don't want to say what we really mean.

Behind me, I heard someone mutter, "But merit is important na?" Their companion hushed them, but the damage was done. This is exactly what the film is talking about—these casual comments, these "reasonable" arguments that hide deeper prejudices.

What Shazia Iqbal (the director) does brilliantly is show both sides not to create false equivalence, but to expose how even "logical" arguments can be weapons of oppression. It's not balanced; it's honest. And that's a crucial difference.

The Romance That Actually Wasn't the Point

Here's where I have mixed feelings. The love story between Neelesh and Vidhi feels... necessary but not central? Like, yes, they need to fall in love for the plot to work, but their chemistry feels secondary to the larger issues at play.

There are some sweet moments—a library scene where they bond over legal texts (nerds!), a cafeteria conversation about their dreams—but these feel like brief respites before the next gut punch.

And maybe that's intentional? Maybe the point is that in a world so divided by caste, even love becomes political. Even holding hands becomes an act of rebellion. The romance isn't passionate because it can't afford to be. It's careful, cautious, constantly looking over its shoulder.

One couple in the theater, clearly on a date, looked increasingly uncomfortable as the film progressed. By interval, they were sitting with a notable gap between them. Art imitating life imitating art.

The Second Half: When Things Get DARK

Post-interval, the film takes a hard turn into thriller territory with the introduction of Shankar (Saurabh Sachdeva), a contract killer who specifically targets inter-caste couples.

This isn't Bollywood villainy with dramatic dialogues and background music. This is cold, calculated evil that believes it's doing God's work. The scariest kind of villain—the one who sleeps peacefully at night.

There's a chase sequence through narrow lanes that had me gripping my armrest. Not because of the action choreography (which is decent), but because of how REAL it felt. This wasn't stylized violence. This was messy, desperate, terrifying in its mundaneness.

The law students I mentioned earlier? They were taking notes. ACTUAL NOTES. During a movie. Later, I overheard them discussing how accurately the film portrayed certain legal aspects. "That habeas corpus scene was spot on," one said. Leave it to law students to fact-check entertainment.

What Worked and What Really Didn't

Let's be honest—this film has issues. It's too long (146 minutes that feel like 180). The first half drags in places. Some dialogue feels like snippets from Twitter threads rather than natural conversation. The background music sometimes tells you how to feel instead of letting you feel it.

But when it works? God, when it works.

Siddhant Chaturvedi sheds every trace of his Gully Boy charm and becomes this wounded, angry, determined young man who's tired of being told to be grateful for bare minimum respect. There's a monologue in the climax where he talks about the weight of representing his entire community, how every mistake he makes reflects on everyone who looks like him. I've never heard a theater so quiet.

Triptii Dimri, in the same scene, delivers a counter-monologue about the burden of being the "good" upper-caste person, how allyship isn't a badge you wear but work you do daily. It should feel preachy. It IS preachy. But delivered with tears streaming down her face, voice cracking with frustration, it transcends preachiness and becomes truth.

The Ending That Divided the Audience

I won't spoil it, but the ending is... controversial. It's neither the tragic ending of Sairat nor a typical Bollywood happy ending. It's something more complex, more realistic, more frustrating.

As credits rolled, the theater erupted in discussion. The uncle who dragged his wife here was saying, "This is what I mean! This is reality!" His wife, surprisingly, was the one defending the film's choices: "What did you expect? That love will conquer centuries of discrimination? Grow up."

The law students were debating legal remedies shown in the film. The couple on the date left quickly, still maintaining that gap. The two girls behind me? One was googling the original Tamil film to compare.

Me? I sat there, processing. Still processing, honestly.

Why This Film Matters (Despite Its Flaws)

Here's the thing about Dhadak 2—it's not a perfect film. It's not even a great film in the traditional sense. It's messy, sometimes heavy-handed, occasionally confused about what it wants to be.

But it's NECESSARY.

In an industry that still makes films where the hero's fair skin is a plot point, where "inter-caste" usually means Brahmin-Kshatriya, where Dalit characters are either absent or reduced to tragedy porn—this film tries to do something different.

It shows caste discrimination not as a rural problem or a thing of the past, but as something that happens in air-conditioned classrooms and urban coffee shops. It shows how even well-meaning people can be complicit. It shows how love isn't enough when the system is against you.

Is it comfortable viewing? Hell no. Should it be? Also hell no.

My Complicated Feelings

Walking to my car, I called my best friend. "How was it?" she asked.

"Important," I said. "Flawed but important."

"So should I watch it?"

I paused. "Yes. But maybe not on a date. And definitely not with your parents unless you're ready for some very uncomfortable dinner conversations."

She laughed. "That bad?"

"That real," I corrected.

Final Verdict from Someone Still Processing

Rating: 3.5/5 (Same as TOI, they got it right)

Watch it for: Siddhant and Triptii's career-best performances, the courage to address caste head-on, some genuinely powerful scenes that will stay with you.

Be prepared for: A longer runtime than necessary, some preachy dialogue, an uneven tone that struggles between commercial cinema and art film.

But most importantly, watch it because films like this—imperfect, struggling, trying—are how change happens. Not in one big revolution, but in small, hesitant, sometimes stumbling steps forward.

As I write this at 11:47 PM, still sitting in my car because I'm not ready to go home and pretend everything's normal, I'm thinking about that uncle's words: "We need to support meaningful cinema."

He's right. Even when—especially when—that meaning makes us uncomfortable.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to call my college friend who I haven't spoken to in years because this movie reminded me of a conversation we never finished having.

P.S. - There's no post-credits scene, but don't rush out. Sit with the discomfort for a minute. The film deserves that much.

P.P.S. - To the couple on the date: I hope you talked about it afterwards. These conversations matter more than we think.

FAQ Section

Q: Is Dhadak 2 connected to the original Dhadak?
A: No, Dhadak 2 is a spiritual sequel with a completely different story and characters. While the first film was based on Sairat, this one adapts the Tamil film Pariyerum Perumal.

Q: How graphic is the violence in Dhadak 2?
A: The film depicts caste-based violence honestly but not gratuitously. There are disturbing scenes including humiliation, physical assault, and murder, but they serve the narrative rather than shock value.

Q: What is the runtime of Dhadak 2?
A: Dhadak 2 has a runtime of 2 hours and 26 minutes (146 minutes), which many reviewers feel could have been trimmed by 20 minutes for better pacing.

Q: Who directed Dhadak 2?
A: Dhadak 2 is directed by Shazia Iqbal in her directorial debut, with the screenplay co-written by Iqbal and Rahul Badwelkar.

Q: Is Dhadak 2 suitable for family viewing?
A: The film carries a U/A rating and deals with mature themes including caste discrimination, violence, and social issues. Parental guidance is recommended for younger viewers.