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What is the story about?
It took Indian spy thrillers six decades to hand the mission to women. Yash Raj Films finally does it in Alpha, the seventh instalment of its Spy universe, even if it doesn't fully know what to do with them. For a genre built on secret agents, covert missions, and larger-than-life heroes, Indian spy thrillers have taken an astonishingly long time to trust women with the lead.
Nearly six decades after Telugu cinema's Gudachari 116 (1966) ushered in the modern Indian spy thriller, and after generations of suave agents, globe-trotting operatives and patriotic heroes dominated screens across languages,
Alpha arrives as a milestone. Marketed by Yash Raj Films as India's first female-led spy thriller, it places Alia Bhatt and Sharvari at the centre of one of the country's biggest action franchises, a space that, until now, had belonged almost exclusively to men.
Whether one agrees with that "first" label is another conversation. Indian cinema has certainly given us memorable women spies before. But Alpha occupies a different space. It is the first time a tentpole commercial spy franchise has been built entirely around two women, asking audiences to root for them not as supporting players or scene-stealers, but as the heroes themselves. That alone makes
Alpha significant.
Sita (Alia Bhatt) and Durga (Sharvari) are introduced with the same myth-making that has long defined male characters. The film doesn't repeatedly remind the audience that they are women entering a man's world. It simply presents them as highly capable operatives in the middle of a crisis. Their gender informs who they are, but it doesn't become their defining characteristic. The screenplay doesn't constantly pause to underline how extraordinary it is that women are doing action.
In many ways, Alpha treats its leads the way mainstream Indian cinema has historically treated Tiger, Kabir or Pathaan.
Yet, despite making its women the face of the franchise, Alpha never quite escapes the genre's long-standing fascination with its men.
One of the biggest issues with the film isn't how it treats Sita or Durga. In fact, it’s commendable, both the characters and the potential they carry. The problem lies in where the screenplay chooses to invest its emotional energy.
Sita is at the centre, yes. But, time and again, it seems more interested in Vikrant Kaul and Fateh Singh Lakhawat than the woman ostensibly leading the story. Even as Sita, and for that matter Durga, propel the narrative forward, the emotional centre of the film often appears to orbit its male characters. The ending, however, leaves you hopeful.
But credit where it's due.
For all its narrative shortcomings, Alpha does something Indian commercial spy films have rarely allowed women to do: it gives its female protagonists identities that extend far beyond the familiar mould of Bond girls, femme fatales or romantic interests. Sita and Durga aren't written as accessories to a male hero's journey. They aren't introduced merely to provide glamour, emotional support or a convenient betrayal midway through the story. They are the ones driving the mission.
That may sound like a low bar in 2026, but within the history of the genre, it is a meaningful shift.
Which raises a larger question: why did it take Indian spy cinema nearly six decades to reach this point in the first place?
The answer lies in the history of the genre itself. A history shaped by James Bond, the Cold War, nationalism, changing geopolitics and, above all, an enduring belief that the nation's most iconic spy could only ever look one way.
When Gudachari 116 released in 1966, it gave Telugu cinema, and arguably Indian cinema, its first modern spy hero. Audiences embraced it, turning Krishna into "Andhra James Bond" and spawning a string of spy adventures that included James Bond 777, Agent Gopi, Rahasya Gudachari and Gudachari 117.
The success of Gudachari 116 quickly travelled north. The very next year, its producers remade it in Hindi as Farz, with Jeetendra stepping into the shoes of Agent 116. A year later came Ramanand Sagar's Ankhen, released in the same year India established the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW). Together, these films laid the foundation for what Indian spy cinema would become.
Also Read: Why Awarapan 2 could mark a new chapter in Emraan Hashmi's career
Across industries, the blueprint remained remarkably similar. Whether it was Mahendra Sandhu's Agent Vinod, Mithun Chakraborty's Surakkshaa and Wardat, or the long line of Telugu spy films that followed Krishna's success, the secret agent was almost always imagined through the lens of James Bond. He was charismatic, impeccably dressed, physically invincible and unwaveringly patriotic. His missions took him across borders, into enemy hideouts and through elaborate conspiracies that valued spectacle over realism.
Women, meanwhile, were lovers, dancers, informants, double agents or femme fatales. Some displayed courage and intelligence, a few even rescued the hero at crucial moments. But the narrative rarely belonged to them.
By the late 1980s and much of the 1990s, dedicated spy thrillers had begun to fade. Family dramas, romances and action entertainers dominated the box office. Intelligence agencies continued to feature in political thrillers and patriotic dramas, but relatively few films revolved entirely around professional spies.
When espionage returned to prominence in the 2000s and 2010s, it looked very different.
Real-world events such as the Kargil War, the IC-814 hijacking, cross-border terrorism and the post-9/11 geopolitical landscape reshaped the genre. Filmmakers moved away from gadget-heavy fantasy and towards grounded intelligence operations. Films like Madras Cafe explored the murky moral terrain of espionage, portraying intelligence officers less as superheroes and more as professionals navigating impossible political choices.
Then, with Ek Tha Tiger in 2012, Yash Raj Films transformed the spy thriller into one of Indian cinema's biggest commercial brands. Tiger, Kabir and Pathaan became larger-than-life action heroes, existing within an interconnected universe that rivalled Hollywood's franchise model. The films embraced gravity-defying action, global stakes and recurring characters while bringing the spy thriller firmly back into the mainstream.
Ironically, even as these franchises centred on male heroes, they also quietly expanded the space available to women.
Katrina Kaif's Zoya was never merely a romantic interest; she was an accomplished spy in her own right. Deepika Padukone's Rubina in Pathaan proved equally formidable. Taapsee Pannu's brief but explosive role in Baby was compelling enough to warrant an entire spin-off in Naam Shabana. Samantha Ruth Prabhu brought grit to the espionage series Citadel: Honey Bunny, and action heroines across genres—from Mardaani to NH10 to Jigra—proved that audiences were willing to embrace women who fought back.
Yet the most commercially successful female-led action films in India have generally been rooted in realism. Rani Mukerji's Shivani Shivaji Roy was a police officer. Anushka Sharma's Meera in NH10 was an ordinary woman pushed to extraordinary violence. Vidya Balan's Vidya Bagchi weaponised perception rather than brute force in Kahaani. Even Alia Bhatt's Sehmat in Raazi relied more on observation, emotional resilience and sacrifice than spectacular action. The fantasy-coded action blockbuster, the kind that asks audiences to accept impossible stunts, globe-trotting missions and operatic heroism, remained a largely male preserve.
Whenever Hindi cinema attempted to centre women in that space, the results were often commercially disappointing. Whether it was Sonakshi Sinha in Akira, Taapsee Pannu in Naam Shabana, Kangana Ranaut in Dhaakad or even Bhatt in Jigra, female-led action spectacles struggled to deliver the kind of box-office numbers routinely expected of their male counterparts.
That makes Alpha significant beyond its own successes or shortcomings.
No, it is not the first Indian film to feature a woman spy. Naam Shabana, Raazi and Khufiya had already placed women at the centre of espionage narratives. Nor is it the first time women have stolen the show in a franchise action film. Zoya arguably emerged as one of the YRF Spy Universe's most beloved characters long before Alpha.
But, for the first time, one of Indian cinema's biggest commercial spy franchises hands the baton entirely to two women. There is no Salman Khan, Shah Rukh Khan or Hrithik Roshan (despite the cameo) towering above them. Sita and Durga aren't supporting players borrowing the spotlight for a few scenes before returning it to the hero. They are the heroes.
That alone marks a turning point in a genre that has spent nearly sixty years imagining the nation's greatest spies as men. Whether Alpha ultimately fulfils the promise of that milestone is a debate audiences will continue to have.
Also Read: Opening movie theatre may soon get easier as India eyes uniform approval rules
Nearly six decades after Telugu cinema's Gudachari 116 (1966) ushered in the modern Indian spy thriller, and after generations of suave agents, globe-trotting operatives and patriotic heroes dominated screens across languages,
Whether one agrees with that "first" label is another conversation. Indian cinema has certainly given us memorable women spies before. But Alpha occupies a different space. It is the first time a tentpole commercial spy franchise has been built entirely around two women, asking audiences to root for them not as supporting players or scene-stealers, but as the heroes themselves. That alone makes
Sita (Alia Bhatt) and Durga (Sharvari) are introduced with the same myth-making that has long defined male characters. The film doesn't repeatedly remind the audience that they are women entering a man's world. It simply presents them as highly capable operatives in the middle of a crisis. Their gender informs who they are, but it doesn't become their defining characteristic. The screenplay doesn't constantly pause to underline how extraordinary it is that women are doing action.
In many ways, Alpha treats its leads the way mainstream Indian cinema has historically treated Tiger, Kabir or Pathaan.
Yet, despite making its women the face of the franchise, Alpha never quite escapes the genre's long-standing fascination with its men.
One of the biggest issues with the film isn't how it treats Sita or Durga. In fact, it’s commendable, both the characters and the potential they carry. The problem lies in where the screenplay chooses to invest its emotional energy.
Sita is at the centre, yes. But, time and again, it seems more interested in Vikrant Kaul and Fateh Singh Lakhawat than the woman ostensibly leading the story. Even as Sita, and for that matter Durga, propel the narrative forward, the emotional centre of the film often appears to orbit its male characters. The ending, however, leaves you hopeful.
But credit where it's due.
For all its narrative shortcomings, Alpha does something Indian commercial spy films have rarely allowed women to do: it gives its female protagonists identities that extend far beyond the familiar mould of Bond girls, femme fatales or romantic interests. Sita and Durga aren't written as accessories to a male hero's journey. They aren't introduced merely to provide glamour, emotional support or a convenient betrayal midway through the story. They are the ones driving the mission.
That may sound like a low bar in 2026, but within the history of the genre, it is a meaningful shift.
Which raises a larger question: why did it take Indian spy cinema nearly six decades to reach this point in the first place?
The answer lies in the history of the genre itself. A history shaped by James Bond, the Cold War, nationalism, changing geopolitics and, above all, an enduring belief that the nation's most iconic spy could only ever look one way.
When Gudachari 116 released in 1966, it gave Telugu cinema, and arguably Indian cinema, its first modern spy hero. Audiences embraced it, turning Krishna into "Andhra James Bond" and spawning a string of spy adventures that included James Bond 777, Agent Gopi, Rahasya Gudachari and Gudachari 117.
The success of Gudachari 116 quickly travelled north. The very next year, its producers remade it in Hindi as Farz, with Jeetendra stepping into the shoes of Agent 116. A year later came Ramanand Sagar's Ankhen, released in the same year India established the Research and Analysis Wing (R&AW). Together, these films laid the foundation for what Indian spy cinema would become.
Also Read: Why Awarapan 2 could mark a new chapter in Emraan Hashmi's career
Across industries, the blueprint remained remarkably similar. Whether it was Mahendra Sandhu's Agent Vinod, Mithun Chakraborty's Surakkshaa and Wardat, or the long line of Telugu spy films that followed Krishna's success, the secret agent was almost always imagined through the lens of James Bond. He was charismatic, impeccably dressed, physically invincible and unwaveringly patriotic. His missions took him across borders, into enemy hideouts and through elaborate conspiracies that valued spectacle over realism.
Women, meanwhile, were lovers, dancers, informants, double agents or femme fatales. Some displayed courage and intelligence, a few even rescued the hero at crucial moments. But the narrative rarely belonged to them.
By the late 1980s and much of the 1990s, dedicated spy thrillers had begun to fade. Family dramas, romances and action entertainers dominated the box office. Intelligence agencies continued to feature in political thrillers and patriotic dramas, but relatively few films revolved entirely around professional spies.
When espionage returned to prominence in the 2000s and 2010s, it looked very different.
Real-world events such as the Kargil War, the IC-814 hijacking, cross-border terrorism and the post-9/11 geopolitical landscape reshaped the genre. Filmmakers moved away from gadget-heavy fantasy and towards grounded intelligence operations. Films like Madras Cafe explored the murky moral terrain of espionage, portraying intelligence officers less as superheroes and more as professionals navigating impossible political choices.
Then, with Ek Tha Tiger in 2012, Yash Raj Films transformed the spy thriller into one of Indian cinema's biggest commercial brands. Tiger, Kabir and Pathaan became larger-than-life action heroes, existing within an interconnected universe that rivalled Hollywood's franchise model. The films embraced gravity-defying action, global stakes and recurring characters while bringing the spy thriller firmly back into the mainstream.
Ironically, even as these franchises centred on male heroes, they also quietly expanded the space available to women.
Katrina Kaif's Zoya was never merely a romantic interest; she was an accomplished spy in her own right. Deepika Padukone's Rubina in Pathaan proved equally formidable. Taapsee Pannu's brief but explosive role in Baby was compelling enough to warrant an entire spin-off in Naam Shabana. Samantha Ruth Prabhu brought grit to the espionage series Citadel: Honey Bunny, and action heroines across genres—from Mardaani to NH10 to Jigra—proved that audiences were willing to embrace women who fought back.
Yet the most commercially successful female-led action films in India have generally been rooted in realism. Rani Mukerji's Shivani Shivaji Roy was a police officer. Anushka Sharma's Meera in NH10 was an ordinary woman pushed to extraordinary violence. Vidya Balan's Vidya Bagchi weaponised perception rather than brute force in Kahaani. Even Alia Bhatt's Sehmat in Raazi relied more on observation, emotional resilience and sacrifice than spectacular action. The fantasy-coded action blockbuster, the kind that asks audiences to accept impossible stunts, globe-trotting missions and operatic heroism, remained a largely male preserve.
Whenever Hindi cinema attempted to centre women in that space, the results were often commercially disappointing. Whether it was Sonakshi Sinha in Akira, Taapsee Pannu in Naam Shabana, Kangana Ranaut in Dhaakad or even Bhatt in Jigra, female-led action spectacles struggled to deliver the kind of box-office numbers routinely expected of their male counterparts.
That makes Alpha significant beyond its own successes or shortcomings.
No, it is not the first Indian film to feature a woman spy. Naam Shabana, Raazi and Khufiya had already placed women at the centre of espionage narratives. Nor is it the first time women have stolen the show in a franchise action film. Zoya arguably emerged as one of the YRF Spy Universe's most beloved characters long before Alpha.
But, for the first time, one of Indian cinema's biggest commercial spy franchises hands the baton entirely to two women. There is no Salman Khan, Shah Rukh Khan or Hrithik Roshan (despite the cameo) towering above them. Sita and Durga aren't supporting players borrowing the spotlight for a few scenes before returning it to the hero. They are the heroes.
That alone marks a turning point in a genre that has spent nearly sixty years imagining the nation's greatest spies as men. Whether Alpha ultimately fulfils the promise of that milestone is a debate audiences will continue to have.
Also Read: Opening movie theatre may soon get easier as India eyes uniform approval rules
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