Pathaan: A Trailer, A Travesty, and A Triumph of Testosterone-Lite Cinema

In the interest of full disclosure—and because honesty is still a virtue in some circles—I must confess: I’ve only seen the trailer of Pathaan. That’s right, just the trailer. But rest assured, that was more than enough. I now feel spiritually qualified to not watch the film in its entirety. Why? Because sometimes, even a glimpse into the abyss is sufficient to comprehend its depth.

Let’s start with the title. Pathaan. A name that once evoked images of hardened warriors from the rugged mountains of Central Asia—men who carved empires with swords, not selfies. But in this cinematic rendition, the only thing being carved is Shah Rukh Khan’s dignity, courtesy of botox, pancake makeup, and a pair of CGI abs that deserve their own VFX team credit.

One might have expected a hint of Alauddin Khalji’s ruthless charisma. Instead, we’re served a bizarre hybrid of Mad Max meets Mumbai metrosexual—minus the madness and most certainly minus the masculinity. Shah Rukh, bless his high-cheekboned heart, tries to look menacing. What emerges instead is a character with the emotional depth of a hotel minibar and the menace of a scented candle.

The trailer, in its infinite generosity, offers us an orgy of car chases—none of which inspire awe, unless you're the sort who finds traffic jams thrilling. Clearly, someone in the production team was told, "Just make it look like Fast & Furious," and they responded, "What if Fast & Furious had no adrenaline and was edited on Microsoft PowerPoint?"

Then comes the romance. Enter Deepika Padukone: part femme fatale, part taxidermy experiment. Their chemistry is less smoldering and more smothering—a sort of emotional vacuum where passion goes to die. Watching Shah Rukh attempt seduction feels like watching a peacock try to waltz in a cement mixer.

John Abraham, meanwhile, floats through the trailer like a protein shake with eyebrows. He contributes nothing but a mildly constipated expression and the haunting sense that he was promised a different script. Together, he and Shah Rukh seem to be on a mission to normalize creepiness as an aesthetic.

But let’s not be naive. There is intent behind all this. Pathaan wants to make the Pathans seem cool. Not the historically accurate ones, mind you—the ones who razed cities, toppled dynasties, and considered plunder a weekend hobby. No, this is about the "woke Pathan": sensitive, shirtless, and possibly vegan. Shah Rukh would have us forget the delightful imperial adventures of the Khaljis, Lodis, Suris, and Durranis. Historical trauma? What trauma? Have a dance number.

And so, the trailer ends—mercifully. You’re left not exhilarated, but existential. You begin to question not just Bollywood, but the very trajectory of civilization. Was this the cultural zenith we were promised? Is this what centuries of subcontinental storytelling have led to?

The answer, dear reader, is no. Unless you are a wide-eyed devotee of Bollywoodian melodrama—unflinchingly loyal to the gospel of cringe—Pathaan will test your tolerance for mediocrity in high definition.

To sum it up: Pathaan is puerile, plastic, and profoundly pointless. A cinematic headache dressed as a high-octane thriller. It is, if the trailer is any guide, less a film and more a two-hour Instagram filter stitched together with bad lighting and worse dialogue.

You have been warned. #BoycottPathaan #ShahRukhKhan #CinemaDespair