Fighter [dir. Siddharth Anand]

I realize I'm not in the majority when I say this, but Siddharth Anand's movies leave me cold. This was true right from the time he was making rom-coms/rom-drams (I had the misfortune of watching Bachna Ae Haseeno on a bus trip, a reprehensible exercise which, not just the ladies, everyone should beware of). Anand then shifted to more heavy-duty action with Bang Bang (an official remake of the frenetic Knight and Day). Therein he found his true metier, doing desi takes on the stereotype Hollywood tent-pole action movie. He then churned out the exponentially more bombastic War (which I found enjoyable in its embracing of the ludicrous) and Pathaan. The latter was his biggest commercial success, but for me it was a mostly lifeless experience, not even fun in the illogical masala vein. Pathaan was so concerned with being 'hip' I could not give a fuck about anything that happened onscreen (perhaps I was more concerned with the increasing numbness in my butt and brain).

With Fighter, Anand continues his run of feature-length action-VFX showreels, angling for a job on the next Mission Impossible or Top Gun or at least Fast & Furious installment. The film is set in the world of combat pilots hand-picked as an elite team for strike/rescue missions. After 2019's Uri: The Surgical Strike, rah-rah war movies reflecting the 'New India, Aggressive India' image became cool. With titles like Gunjan Saxena, they also became (preachy) vehicles of female empowerment. Fighter collects these trends into a single package - the Hrithik-worship from War continues in an almost identical adoring coverage of bronzed biceps and gold-flecked hair, Balakot and Pulwama are referenced in the cartoonish portrayal of counter maneuvers, and Deepika Padukone's chopper pilot could be an extension of the Gunjan Saxena character.

Fighter fills the frame with a sizable cast and lip-service is paid to 'team bonding', but make no mistake, this is not an ensemble piece. The characters that are not matinee names have no backstory or hook to make them interesting. They're just there, 'reflectors' to bounce more light on the leads. The audience is never given any reason to care for their fate. One character is the token Muslim card that becomes a martyr; his funeral rituals are completely drowned out by a Vande Mataram cover. Even the manner in which characters seem to have carte blanche to enter control centers for ops they are not part of, or just hang around for emotional detours in the middle of setting up covert missions takes away from the immersion.

The movie expects us to feel bad for Hrithik when he is called out for going cowboy and endangering his squad by abandoning team goals in pursuit of individual targets. Curiously, none of his team-mates have an issue with his lone wolf attitude. The calling out is done by his commanding officer Anil Kapoor, who yells out every sentence like an unruly society chairman uncle bawling at the cricket playing kids damaging his window panes. There would be some logic to this narrative if it culminated in Hrithik's becoming more mindful of following orders, which I assume is what the armed forces want of soldiers. But for some reason this PTSD afflicted bloke's self-obsession becomes a virtue.

The action is slick, I'll grant, but it feels rehashed and unexciting - the exhaust pipes shimmering at launch, the jets blowing snow off the trees or spray off the water surface as they zoom by, the loop-de-loop maneuver, we've seen all this before. It's more like Anand studied scenes from Top Gun to showcase his ability to replicate them indigenously at lower cost. Some of the green screen work is less than stellar (when Hrithik and the villain - a Fabio clone with one bloodshot eye to signal his villainy - are slugging it out atop a careening jeep). The film is set in Jammu & Kashmir, but you get Mediterranean beachside and ultrahip-nightclub song sequences that are awkwardly horned in. For tonal consistency, this Fighter is a damp squib.