Detective Sherdil Is A Murder Mystery So Witless Even Diljit Dosanjh Looks Bad
This is #CriticalMargin, where Ishita Sengupta gets contemplative over new Hindi films and shows.
Promo poster for Detective Sherdil.
Last Updated: 03.43 PM, Jun 20, 2025
DILJIT DOSANJH, one would assume, can do anything. In the last couple of years, the pop star has catapulted into a global icon and graced Jimmy Fallon’s show and the Met Gala with equal grace. His shows are sold out, his Instagram is filled with hilarious reels, and upcoming filmography promises to be both subversive (Punjab ‘95) and mainstream (Border 2). His rise has been so meteoric that he looks infallible, and his success so constant that it feels destined. Detective Sherdil, his latest film, is an exception to the narrative.
Ravi Chhabriya’s directorial debut, a whodunnit, makes art out of disengagement. It is a thriller with so little thrill that it could be a case study, and sitting in 2025, it features Dosanjh in the lead and the audacity to underutilise him, making his character, dare I say, annoying. On paper, it might seem improbable, but Detective Sherdil achieves this with a vengeance I had not foreseen.
Dosanjh plays Sherdil, allegedly a genius detective, fond of making reels after solving a case. I use “allegedly” because Chhabriya’s film (written by Sagar Bajaj, Ravi Zafar and Ali Abbas Zafar) gives zero evidence of his skill set. The film opens with a flashy introduction that, I assumed, set the stage for exposition. Detective Sherdil, however, goes nowhere near it, giving us instead a detective whose only job is playing the mouth organ at all times, like he is imagining it (ruining my happy memory of watching Shah Rukh Khan do it in Kabhi Haan Kabhi Naa).
Set in Budapest, the film throws in a murder in the first couple of minutes. A billionaire, Pankaj Bhatti (Boman Irani), has been killed. His family (including his wife and two children) are distressed because the will has given them nothing. Bhatti divided his wealth among three parties — the pet dog, his brother-in-law and Purvak, his daughter, Shanti’s boyfriend. Since the news got out, Purvak has been missing, and Bhatti’s family, certain he is the killer, calls upon Sherdil to find him.
A rich man dying and leaving behind an aggrieved family is a common setting for a murder mystery. Some revelations are built into the plot, like strained ties and them having more motive than others. Chhabriya seeks to avoid the stereotypes, so Sherdil and his two accomplices (Natasha played by Diana Penty and Danny by Mikhail Yawalkar) put them in house arrest and start looking for Purvak.
It is important to note here that the film loses steam within the first 10 minutes. It could be the textbook characters, Bhatti’s rich-cold wife (Ratna Pathak Shah), his useless son, Angad (Sumeet Vyas) and the mute daughter, Shanti (Banita Sandhu), he was genuinely close to. It could be the film’s refusal to offer any justification or explanation whatsoever — Natasha is not too fond of Sherdil. But why? Shanti is loved by her father, but what about the rest of the family? Why is Angad talking about shares and stocks like he understands them? What proof do we have that Sherdil can do anything except play the mouth organ? If you are coming at me with this case, then let me say that even a 5-year-old can solve it. Why has Ali Abbas Zafar produced it? And finally, why is the story set in Budapest when even Kolkata wouldn’t have altered the proceedings?
There are no answers to anything. For the large part of its runtime, Detective Sherdil cosplays as a long-form show and meanders to no end; Dosanjh keeps smiling smugly at the camera. The subtext is that he is mentally cracking the case, but it is really hard to care. All the characters behave like they know they are the suspects. In the midst, Chunky Panday arrives. He plays Bodhi, a professional tree hugger who wears a bathrobe-like attire bought in season sale. Sherdil himself is accompanied by people who have no contribution to the case. Natasha only asks questions (Penty’s flat tone should be studied), and Danny records the interrogation as if making a documentary on how not to make a whodunnit.
This leaves behind Dosanjh, a commendable actor always one breath away from becoming a beloved detective. His voice-overs are funny, his reaction shots are amusing. But Chhabriya sponges all the charm off the character. Dosanjh looks visibly awkward. He speaks English (something he openly admitted not being comfortable in) and spends most of the time staring at walls. This is not a physical role, but Sherdil is neither a mental one. There is shockingly little to do here, and even less for Dosanjh to redeem.
For a while now, streaming sites have served as a dumping ground for films considered not good for theatres. The trend has hardened into a practice and perpetuated with abandon. But Detective Sherdil proves that the safety net is also corroding the ambition of films. Not that the films aren’t good, but they have also stopped trying. And if this doesn’t require an expert intervention, I don’t know what else will.
Disclaimer: The views expressed in this column are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of OTTplay. The author is solely responsible for any claims arising out of the content of this column.