A convention-bound cyber thriller that never quite acquires the unmistakable Hirani magic. Despite capable performances, Pritam and Pedro struggles with predictable writing, writes Arnab Banerjee, muted emotional impact, and storytelling that never rises above polished mediocrity.

Director: Avinash Arun Dhaware

Cast: Arshad Warsi, Vir Hirani, Vikrant Massey, Satyadeep Misra, Naina Sareen, Shruti Marathe, Vinod Nagpal, Mona Singh, Rajesh Sharma, Ajay Madhok, Boman Irani

Cinematography: Avinash Arun Dhaware

Rating: ★★☆☆☆

There are certain names in cinema that arrive long before the credits roll. They carry with them not merely recognition but a formidable burden of expectation—a promise of excellence painstakingly accumulated over decades. Rajkumar Hirani belongs comfortably to that rarefied league. His films have consistently blended humour with humanity, wit with wisdom, and entertainment with emotion, creating stories that linger long after the curtains have fallen. From the irrepressibly charming Munna Bhai series to the socially resonant 3 Idiots, the delightfully irreverent PK, and the emotionally layered Sanju, Hirani has fashioned a cinematic identity that is at once distinctive and deeply endearing.

Naturally, any project emerging under his creative stewardship arrives wearing an invisible crown. One walks into it not merely with anticipation but with the comforting assurance that disappointment is unlikely. Or so one believes.

A Promising Premise That Loses Momentum

It was with precisely these lofty expectations that one settled down to watch the six-episode Pritam and Pedro on JioHotstar. Unfortunately, somewhere between the opening scene and the closing credits, those expectations quietly logged themselves out.

Created and produced by Rajkumar Hirani and directed by the immensely talented Avinash Arun Dhaware, Pritam and Pedro marks the digital debut of both Hirani and his son, Vir Hirani, who plays one of the titular protagonists. The series also reunites Hirani with his trusted Munna Bhai lieutenant Arshad Warsi while casting Vikrant Massey in the role of the principal antagonist. On paper, the ingredients appear deliciously promising. Regrettably, the final dish is rather under-seasoned.

The narrative introduces us to Pedro (Arshad Warsi), an old-school Goan police inspector who finds himself unceremoniously exiled to the Cyber Crime Department—a posting that is to technology what a vegetarian is to a steakhouse. Pedro neither understands nor particularly wishes to understand the digital universe. For him, "cloud" belongs in the sky, passwords are unnecessary complications, and a revolver remains infinitely more trustworthy than a computer mouse. He is a gloriously analogue relic attempting to survive in an aggressively digital age.

His unlikely partner is Pritam (Vir Hirani), a gifted young hacker whose brilliance with computers is matched only by his youthful earnestness. Demoted from his previous assignment, Pritam reluctantly joins forces with Pedro, and together they begin solving cybercrimes before stumbling upon the kidnapping of Home Minister Sardesai's son. The case gradually unfolds into a larger conspiracy orchestrated by Martin (Vikrant Massey), a cyber mastermind who remains frustratingly several clicks ahead of the investigating officers.

Running parallel to the investigation are smaller emotional threads. Pritam, an orphan, lives with his affectionate grandfather (Vinod Nagpal), while Pedro, despite his constant grumbling, slowly evolves into something resembling an extended family member. Meanwhile, Pedro's domestic life with his long-suffering wife, Stacey (Mona Singh), offers opportunities for warmth and humour.

At least, that is what the screenplay intends.

Predictable Writing Undermines The Mystery

The central premise is undeniably attractive. The collision between an old-fashioned policeman who trusts instinct over algorithms and a young hacker who sees the world through code offers abundant possibilities for sparkling humour and engaging drama. Their ideological clashes, generational differences, and contrasting investigative methods should have generated delightful comic friction. Instead, the series merely scratches the surface of what could have been a wonderfully entertaining partnership.

The greatest casualty here is storytelling.

Not because the story is incomprehensible, but because it is astonishingly ordinary. The plot proceeds with such mechanical predictability that one begins solving the mystery well before the characters discover there is one. The suspense unfolds in neat, convenient packages, while the investigation relies on simplistic narrative shortcuts that rob the proceedings of urgency or surprise. Rather than tightening its grip with each passing episode, the series loosens it until even the villain appears to be waiting patiently for the screenplay to catch up.

The writing remains resolutely formulaic, rarely venturing beyond familiar genre conventions. Every revelation feels anticipated, every twist politely announces its arrival, and every emotional beat lands with the measured precision of an office attendance register. There are moments when one almost wishes the cybercriminal would hack into the script itself and upload a few surprises.

Rajkumar Hirani and Abhijat Joshi have, over the years, gifted audiences some of Hindi cinema's most memorable screenplays. Their stories have always possessed an effortless ability to balance laughter with poignancy. Here, however, one searches in vain for that signature alchemy. The warmth remains muted, the humour sporadic, and the emotional resonance strangely elusive. The unmistakable "Hirani touch"—that magical ingredient audiences have come to cherish—is conspicuous largely by its absence.

Strong Performances Keep It Watchable

Director Avinash Arun, an accomplished cinematographer and filmmaker, keeps the proceedings visually polished. Goa is photographed with warmth and elegance, and the pacing seldom becomes sluggish. Yet visual finesse can only embellish a narrative; it cannot compensate for one that lacks dramatic muscle. Arun ensures that the series remains watchable, but he cannot elevate material that seldom rises above mediocrity.

Fortunately, the performances lend the series whatever vitality it possesses.

Arshad Warsi once again demonstrates why he remains one of Hindi cinema's most effortlessly charming performers. His Pedro is perpetually bewildered by technology, exasperated by bureaucracy, affectionate beneath his gruff exterior, and consistently amusing without resorting to caricature. Warsi possesses the rare gift of making even the simplest exchanges entertaining. He has perfected the art of appearing completely overwhelmed while somehow remaining firmly in control—a performance style that suits Pedro beautifully.

Vir Hirani makes a confident debut, displaying sincerity and understated ease as the idealistic hacker. While the role offers limited emotional complexity, he performs with commendable restraint and avoids the temptation to overplay his character's youthful intelligence. His chemistry with Warsi develops naturally, and one cannot help wishing the screenplay had given the duo far richer material to explore.

Vikrant Massey lends quiet menace to Martin, rather consciously. An actor of his calibre cannot inject sustained excitement into a villain who is more concept than character. Mona Singh, Vinod Nagpal, Satyadeep Misra, and the supporting ensemble deliver competent performances, but most remain underutilised.

Final Verdict

Ultimately, Pritam and Pedro is not a bad series. It is simply a profoundly average one—and therein lies its greatest disappointment. Had it emerged from an unknown banner, one might have accepted it as a pleasant, undemanding weekend watch. But when it bears the imprimatur of Rajkumar Hirani, expectations inevitably ascend several notches higher.

Perhaps that is both the privilege and the predicament of greatness. Once one has taught audiences to expect brilliance, competence alone feels insufficient.

Pritam and Pedro is competently mounted, amiably performed, and occasionally amusing. Yet beneath its polished exterior lies a convention-bound, thinly plotted crime thriller that never quite escapes the gravitational pull of predictability.

The cybercrime may be sophisticated, but the storytelling remains stubbornly analogue. And that, one suspects, is a system error no amount of debugging can rectify.