The actor-director’s spy spoof aims for absurdist satire but collapses under stereotypes, scattered themes, and overextended gags, despite flashes of wit and a fun Aamir Khan cameo.

Reviewed by Arnab Banerjee

Happy Patel: Khatarnak Jasoos, directed by Vir Das and Kavi Shastri, is a Hindi spy comedy starring Vir Das, Sharib Hashmi, Mithila Palkar, Imran Khan and Mona Singh. This review examines its humour, themes of identity, stereotypes, and why the film struggles to sustain its absurdist promise despite notable performances and cameos.

Happy Patel: Khatarnak Jasoos

Director: Vir Das, Kavi Shastri

Cast: Vir Das, Sharib Hashmi, Mithila Palkar, Mona Singh, Srushti Tawade,

Sumukhi Suresh, Imran Khan, Aamir Khan

Music: Vir Das, Parth Pandya

Rating: ★½

The directorial debut of Vir Das and Kavi Shastri, Happy Patel: Khatarnak Jasoos, introduces us to Happy—played by Das himself—a 34-year-old, UK-based wannabe secret agent whose most dangerous skill is assembling a sandwich so good it brings joy to his British dads. He is earnest, clumsy, and armed with optimism rather than competence. Naturally, chaos follows. 

Written by Vir Das and Amogh Ranadive, the 121-minute film operates on hope—hope that a goofy British spy of Indian origin can carry a full-blown absurdist comedy. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it really, really hopes it works.

Happy lives a comfortably bland life in England until he senses something is “missing.” That something turns out to be his entire identity. Cue the revelation: he is Indian. This discovery arrives with Happy staring slack-jawed, as if no Indians have ever crossed his path in Britain before. Turns out, he was whisked away as an infant from Goa by his dad, honouring a promise to his dying mother—a no-nonsense domestic worker (Sumukhi Suresh), house-proud and armed with a lethal jharoo. From here, logic is politely shown the exit.

Spy Spoof and Stereotype Sprinting

What follows is an anything-goes spy spoof packed with non sequiturs, surreal flourishes, and enthusiastic nonsense. Happy is tasked with rescuing a kidnapped British inventor whose groundbreaking invention is—wait for it—a revolutionary fairness cream. His crash course in espionage includes pearls of wisdom like “Indians don’t eat with spoons,” because stereotypes must sprint before they crawl.

Once Happy lands in sunny Goa, the film leans gleefully into caricature. There’s a dancer (Mithila Palkar), a warm-hearted Sardar (Sharib Hashmi), a spunky kid named Roxy (Srushti Tawade), and a female don, Mama (Mona Singh), who cooks killer cutlets and ends every sentence with a dramatic “Man.” Instructions are relayed through aggressive tea-slurping by handler Geet, who herself answers to Roxy, because why not. Somewhere between dodging goons and mangling missions, Happy falls for Rupa (Mithila Palkar).

The film desperately wants to be about everything—parenting, identity, racism, colourism, gender roles, romance, freedom—and then some. Unfortunately, the jokes often trip over the weight of these ambitions. The central running gag—Happy’s disastrous Hindi spoken in a dodgy British accent—starts funny, then overstays its welcome, then moves in permanently.

Fans of Vir Das’s stand-up know his strength lies in sharp satire and observational humour, particularly around cultural dissonance and the outsider experience. Here, his familiar stage persona takes centre stage, but the screenplay forgets to build a sturdy story around it. The result is a scattershot mix of clever moments, flat jokes, and comic ideas that feel half-cooked.

Cameos, Comparisons, and Missed Potential

The film opens on a promisingly quirky note, buoyed by a delightful cameo from Aamir Khan (who really should do more full-blown comedy). Sadly, soon after, the narrative begins to wander. Much of the humour boils down to linguistic bungling, and beyond that, the comic cupboard feels a bit bare.

This is not Delhi Belly. Not even close. Not that the makers intended to. And so, despite another Aamir Khan–Vir Das association, the film lacks the irreverent, fearless edge that once set a trend. Here, too many jokes chase too many themes, often tripping over each other while trying to make a point—preferably with an action beat attached.

You can sit back, relax, and treat this as a frothy, mildly quirky diversion. Just don’t expect it to blow your mind—or even your socks. The film starts with promise, ambles along cheerfully, and eventually runs out of steam.

Final verdict? Give me Vir Das the stand-up comedian any day. Any time. On stage, he hits harder, sharper, and funnier—without needing a fairness cream or a faulty spy mission to do it. 

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