Dug Dug review: Bizarre, funny, and unsettling ride through India's blind faith

Dug Dug movie review: Ritwik Pareek's Dug Dug follows a dead man's Luna as it turns him into Thakur Sa after repeatedly returning to the accident spot. The film uses the shrine's rise into a temple to trace how faith, spectacle and commerce merge in everyday India.

In Short

• A dead man's Luna keeps returning, sparking whispers of divine intervention
• The roadside shrine grows into a temple, trust and commercial empire
• Small details, from old notes to police lives, add texture

You know those films that get better after you’ve finished watching them? Dug Dug is exactly that kind of film. I randomly mentioned the plot to a friend, who casually said, “You know there is a Bullet Baba Temple in Rajasthan, right?” And just like that, the film levelled up in my head. Because suddenly, this wasn’t just a quirky, slightly absurd story it was real. And that makes everything far more fascinating, and slightly more terrifying.

Written and directed by Ritwik Pareek, Dug Dug taps into one of India’s most reliable plot devices—faith: blind faith, selective faith, even convenient faith. The kind that can turn a random object into a full-blown deity if the vibes match.

The story kicks off with a man dying in a terrifying accident. His Luna is brought to a police station. But every night, the bike pulls a full main-character move—it disappears and reappears at the accident spot. Naturally, logic takes a backseat, whispers take over, and enter a baba ji, who declares that Thakur (the deceased) might just be divine. And just like that, Thakur becomes Thakur Sa, and we get a new god in town. Offerings are his favourites—bidi and alcohol (yes, alcohol)—and people start showing up with wishes like it’s a spiritual customer care centre.

As a teetotaller, I have to say, watching people pour alcohol as daan (offering) had me amused, though others might be mildly stressed. The wastage. But also, that is peak India. Because this is what we do: we hope, we pray, and we believe, sometimes a little too easily, a little too much. The film constantly walks this line where you are smiling at the absurdity but also eye-rolling a little at the antics.

And then comes the big glow-up. What starts as a small roadside shrine becomes a full-blown marble temple. Thakur Sa goes from a local legend to a state-level phenomenon. Shops pop up, trusts are formed, hospitals and a university get named after him — and, my personal favourite, a meat shop named after Thakur Sa. Inclusive and tolerant religion? We love to see that.

There are so many little moments that make this film feel rich and layered. A random brick with “Om” written on it becomes instant divine confirmation. A magician named PP Sharma, a clear wink to PC Sorcar, reminds you how thin the line is between magic and belief. And then there is this one guy who is just inflating a balloon throughout the film, from start to finish. You are sitting there thinking, this is us, right? Filling something fragile with all our hopes, waiting for the inevitable burst. Whether it bursts or not, not giving spoilers, but the metaphor came through loud and clear.

Visually, Ritwik Pareek’s film is stunning. There is a gorgeous opening highway shot, and the lighting is chef’s kiss. Even the background score is genuinely a banger. It elevates scenes, builds tension, and occasionally does more storytelling than the screenplay itself.

There are no big stars or known faces here, and that kind of works beautifully for Dug Dug. With actors such as Altaf Khan, Gaurav Soni, Yogendra Singh, and Durga Lal Saini, the film feels raw and real, like you have just walked into someone’s life. No distractions, no star baggage, just characters existing in their slightly bizarre reality.

The smallest details also shine. The film is set around 2018–19, and you catch glimpses of the pink old Rs 2,000 notes. The cops are not bulky men but real people who talk about retirement, their personal struggles, and their very human lives beneath the uniform. There is also a lovely moment where a cop’s wife adjusts her sari while watching him on TV — soft, subtle, and so real.

But here is the thing: Dug Dug really needed someone to say, “Thoda ruk jao.” Because the film loves its own story a little too much. The journey from bike to belief to full-blown religion feels stretched. The same beats repeat, and at one point, you hope for a new plot or just for the pages to be turned over. It gets indulgent, and not always in a good way.

And it is frustrating because the film has so much potential. When it finally gets to its point, it is actually quite beautiful. The climax is subtle, almost blink-and-miss, hinting at a logical explanation while still leaving space for faith. And that final shift from disbelief to quiet acceptance lands beautifully.

Backed by filmmakers such as Anurag Kashyap, Vasan Bala, Nikhil Advani, and Vikramaditya Motwane, Dug Dug clearly comes from a space that wants to tell different, rooted stories, and that is always exciting for the industry and cinephiles. The film is not perfect; it is messy, indulgent, and occasionally tests your patience. But it is also original, funny in the most unexpected ways, and deeply, unapologetically Indian.

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