Udta Teer Movie Review: Akash A Kaushik’s Udta Teer starring Ayushmann Khurrana and Sara Ali Khan is genre-bending. And that’s all that’s there to this film. Billed as a spy comedy, the film delivers a few
chuckles but rarely a big laugh. Cinematically, it’s far too lacklustre. It’s this monotony, compounded by its linear storytelling, that brings the film down.
Logic leaves the room pretty early, but that isn’t the problem. The trouble begins when Udta Teer tries to be more than its core premise warrants. What could have been a quirky, contained story gradually morphs into a jingoistic narrative peppered with an unnecessary love ballad and a deshbhakti song. On paper, the genre blend sounds exciting, but onscreen, it feels tonally confused.
The film opens in Pakistan’s Mudirka with terrorist Azhar Maqsood planning a retaliation on India after Operation Sindoor. Now hiding in Delhi, he spends his time looking for his ‘hoor’ on a Muslim dating app called Hinder as a track titled Azerbaijaan plays in the backdrop. It’s funny, and for a moment, you almost believe the film will sustain this irreverent tone throughout its comic caper.
Running parallel to this is the story of Pakistani military agent Bilal Ahmed, alias Vikrant Thapar, who operates within India’s Counter Terrorism Squad under the guise of a Pakistani spy. Having lost his parents to cross-border firing, Vikrant sees his role as an agent as an opportunity to avenge their deaths. He’s joined on the Indian intelligence team by fellow Pakistani Dhruv, aka Ashfaq.
During an operation, however, Vikrant and Dhruv’s boss, Burman, discovers their true identities. A scuffle inside the car leads to an accident, leaving Burman in a vegetative state. Vikrant, meanwhile, suffers memory loss and begins to believe that he’s a deshbhakt agent working for India. What follows is a series of missions that descend into a comedy of errors and chaos.
On the personal front, Vikrant’s life is equally chaotic. His marriage to Yamini, who works at the Indian Defence Ministry, is on the verge of collapse, with the couple headed for divorce. This subplot, however, hardly contributes to the larger narrative. It disrupts the flow, feeling jarringly disconnected from the central plot and acts as a device that doesn’t do much beyond giving Yamini some screen time.
At 2 hours and 17 minutes, Udta Teer struggles to maintain a consistent pace, dipping far too often. The narrative lacks both meat and engaging moments to hold your attention, with the pre- and post-interval portions suffering from the same problem. In fact, it only begins to take shape in the truest sense of the word about 40 minutes in.
The film’s attempts at humour often feel contrived. In one such sequence, an action scene unfolds inside the hospital where an immobile Burman is admitted. Vikrant uses Burman and his stretcher as both a shield and a weapon to fend off Pakistani agents. The sequence also involves a dead body and an awkwardly staged moment between her and Burman.
The entire set piece is silly and frivolous and rarely funny. In another sequence, Vikrant and Dhruv chase Maqsood through the narrow lanes of Old Delhi. The scene is weighed down by excessive dialogue and over-the-top physical comedy, neither of which manages to elicit a laugh. In yet another instance, Burman is strapped vertically to a stretcher, with Dhruv using a remote to make him dance.
What is presumably intended as slapstick humour comes across as distasteful and utterly unfunny. Credit where it’s due, though. The film does manage to land a few moments of humour after Vikrant loses his memory and a tearful Shambhu, his helper and a Pakistani spy, is forced to learn Hindu prayers and chants.
In a scene reminiscent of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Shambhu clutches the Pakistani flag and cries into it as Vikrant celebrates India’s victory over Pakistan with Tujhe Yaad Na Meri Aayi playing in the background. While Shambhu channels Kajol’s Anjali, Dhruv steps into the role of Rifat Bi. These moments offer glimpses of the irreverence the film could have sustained more consistently.
There are some moments of organic humour that also work. References to the Pakistani Prime Minister provide some of the film’s more amusing moments. When Mir repeatedly ignores and mocks him, the latter quips, “Iss mulk mein Sharif ki koi jagah nahi hai.” These meta jokes land precisely because they feel effortless rather than manufactured.
The sudden turn towards avid jingoism in the second half, however, takes the film in an entirely different direction. Patriotism begins to feel like a forced trope, shoehorned in to strike an emotional chord, and in the process, the film loses the easygoing vibe it initially establishes. This stretch feels disconnected from the rest of the film, disrupting the genre and its tone.
Akash’s screenplay is all over the place, often feeling like a clash of sensibilities struggling to find common ground. The film is also bloated with characters, several of whom add little to the narrative. Yamini’s mother and Mir, for instance, feel entirely dispensable and could easily have been written out.
In the post-credit scene, Yamini jokes that she too is a Pakistani spy before clarifying that she’s kidding. One wishes she weren’t. The revelation, had it been real, could have added layers to her character, lending her some intrigue, nuance and narrative heft. Instead, her strained marriage with Vikrant remains largely unexplored, leaving their relationship feeling underdeveloped.
It’s also this flat writing that does Sara Ali Khan no favours. Her Yamini isn’t a fully realised character and has little purpose within the larger narrative. While Sara is good in the scenes she appears in, the role gives her very little to work with, leaving her unable to make a lasting impact. If Vikrant is the brawn, Yamini is the brain. Yet the film doesn’t quite explore her cerebral prowess.
Their chemistry too lacks the natural ease and romantic tension needed to make their strained marriage feel convincing. Ayushmann Khurrana is convincing as Vikrant/Bilal, but his performance is ultimately constrained by the bumpy screenplay, and he never quite rises above it. This is certainly not among his best performances.
The makers criminally underutilise Rahul Bose, who plays Burman. It’s baffling why an actor of his calibre would take on a role that barely scratches the surface of his acting prowess. The writing doesn’t let Supriya Pilgaonkar and Gulshan Grover leave any impact either. Ram Kapoor as Niyazi is decent, and so are Brijendra Kala and Raghubir Yadav.
It’s Suhail Nayyar, Shambhu Sansi and Smita Tambe who deserve special mentions. Suhail gets to be more than the hero’s sidekick, and he gives it his all as Dhruv/Ashfaq. His helplessness is palpable, and so is Shambhu’s. Smita Tambe, who first appears resolute as Vikrant’s senior and then goes puppy-eyed for Burman, is impressive.
The late Mukul Dev steals the spotlight as Maqsood in his final posthumous screen appearance. His one-liners are often hilarious, his quirky body language is spot-on, and his Pakistani accent is bang on. With impeccable comic timing, he elevates the screenplay whenever he’s onscreen. He slips effortlessly into the skin of his character, making you wish he had been given more screen time.
All in all, Udta Teer attempts to be novel, and its intentions are in the right place. However, it strays from its core premise far too often, losing sight of what makes its setup promising. A tighter, crisper screenplay could perhaps have salvaged the film. If you want to watch Ayushmann and Sara on your screens, kindly revisit Pati Patni Aur Woh Do. Keep this one as a second-screen viewing.
