The Diplomat on Goojara: Muted Nationalism & the Male Saviour Trope

A New Paradigm for the Geopolitical Thriller

In the landscape of contemporary Indian cinema, the geopolitical thriller has often been a vehicle for chest-thumping nationalism, a cinematic arena where cross-border tensions are resolved through righteous fury and explosive action. Shivam Nair’s The Diplomat (2025) enters this space as a quiet but firm corrective. Based on the harrowing 2017 rescue of Indian citizen Uzma Ahmed from Pakistan, the film consciously eschews militaristic spectacle for the hushed, high-stakes world of procedural diplomacy. It is a work of commendable restraint, anchored by powerful performances that prioritize psychological realism over patriotic bombast. Yet, in its very commitment to the factual record of an institutional rescue, the film becomes entangled in a fascinating paradox, raising critical questions about the representation of female agency. While it sensitively portrays a woman’s trauma, its narrative structure ultimately recenters the male state as her saviour, offering a sophisticated, yet ideologically potent, vision of modern Indian nationalism.

Director Shivam Nair, whose previous work includes the espionage series Special Ops, brings a documentarian’s eye to the thriller genre. His directorial signature is a preference for authenticity over artifice, a choice that defines the film’s aesthetic and makes it a compelling find on streaming platforms like https://goojara.inc/. The tension in The Diplomat is not built through car chases or gunfights—indeed, its action-star lead, John Abraham, "doesn't even swat a fly"—but through the palpable suspense of legal deadlines, the quiet intensity of interrogation rooms, and the ever-present threat of a diplomatic misstep. The film’s visual language, crafted by cinematographer Dimo Popov, reinforces this realism. A muted colour palette coats the narrative in a grounded sobriety, while the claustrophobic, tight framing within the Indian High Commission mirrors the psychological entrapment of its central female character, Uzma (Sadia Khateeb). When depicting her abuse in flashbacks, Nair avoids exploitative imagery, opting instead for extreme close-ups on Uzma’s eye, forcing the audience to witness her terror from an intimate, subjective distance. This is a cinema of quiet dread, one that finds its thrill in the meticulous, nerve-wracking process of navigating a hostile geopolitical landscape.  

The Politics of Representation: Agency and the Saviour

The film’s most complex and, I would argue as a feminist critic, most revealing aspect is its treatment of female agency. The real-life Uzma Ahmed was not merely a passive victim; she was the architect of her own initial escape. Lured to a remote region of Pakistan and forced into a violent marriage, she concocted a clever ruse, convincing her captor to take her to the Indian High Commission in Islamabad under the pretense of collecting money from a relative. This act of cunning and courage is the catalyst for the entire story. The film, in its adaptation by screenwriter Ritesh Shah, honors this initial act. However, once Uzma enters the embassy’s gates, the narrative’s center of gravity shifts. The plot, by the very nature of the thriller genre, requires a proactive hero to drive it forward. That hero becomes the diplomat, J.P. Singh (John Abraham).  

From this point on, Uzma’s agency becomes secondary to the mechanics of her rescue. She is confined, protected, and spoken for, while Singh devises the legal strategy, navigates diplomatic channels, and confronts the antagonists. Her role is reduced to that of a traumatized but largely passive figure whose primary function is to endure and testify. This structural choice inadvertently reinforces the pervasive "male saviour" trope, framing her story through the lens of the man who rescues her. It also taps into a deep-seated nationalist metaphor in Indian culture: the idea of the vulnerable woman as a symbol for the nation itself—"Bharat Ki Beti," or the Daughter of India—who requires the protection of a masculine state authority. This is not to say the film is without nuance. There are moments where female colleagues tell Singh that he cannot fully understand Uzma’s fear, a subtle but important acknowledgment of the limits of the male perspective. However, the film’s adherence to the true story presents a fascinating dilemma. Unlike a film such as Raazi (2018), where the real-life story of a female spy allows for a narrative driven by her proactive choices, the factual account of Uzma Ahmed is one of institutional intervention. To depict her as an active agent throughout the diplomatic standoff would have been a departure from reality. Thus, the film’s reproduction of a traditional gender dynamic feels less like a conscious ideological choice and more like an inevitable consequence of its commitment to authenticity. 

The Competent State: An Ideology of Muted Nationalism

Where the film is most innovative is in its articulation of patriotism. The Diplomat has been widely praised for being a "refreshing departure from typical India-Pakistan films," one that is largely "devoid of over-the-top nationalism". This is true, but its patriotism is not absent; it is merely reframed. The film practices a form of "muted nationalism," where national pride is derived not from bureaucratic competence but from moral authority. The hero here is not a soldier but an intelligent, composed civil servant who makes the state apparatus work effectively for its citizens. This approach represents a significant evolution in the cinematic language of Indian nationalism, one perfectly suited for a globalized, streaming-era audience that might discover it on a platform like Goojara. 

Overtly jingoistic films can have limited appeal beyond domestic borders. A procedural thriller that highlights the professionalism and efficacy of the Indian state, however, offers a more palatable and arguably more effective form of national branding. The film’s conflict is resolved in courtrooms and conference rooms, positioning India as a responsible global power that operates through law and diplomacy rather than aggression. This vision of a competent, protective state is a sophisticated form of nationalist storytelling, one that still serves the clear ideological purpose of fostering pride and confidence in state institutions.

Performances and Reception

As an author of this piece, I, Evelyn, believe this entire thematic structure is held together by two remarkable central performances. John Abraham, an actor synonymous with muscular action roles, delivers what many critics have called a career-best performance through sheer restraint. By subverting his own star persona, he creates a character whose power lies in his intellect and composure. This quiet authority is crucial, as it creates the narrative space for Sadia Khateeb’s devastating portrayal of Uzma to become the film’s emotional core. Khateeb is the "soul" of the film, embodying Uzma’s trauma with a raw vulnerability that is both heartbreaking and utterly convincing. It is the symbiotic relationship between these two performances—Abraham’s quiet strength and Khateeb’s visceral pain—that elevates the film beyond a simple thriller into a compelling human drama.  

The film's reception reflects its complex nature. It garnered a respectable 7/10 IMDb rating and was praised by many viewers as a "gripping" and "fantastic thriller". However, its commercial performance was modest, a fact many attribute to a "glaring lack of marketing". This points to a paradox: the very qualities that make the film artistically compelling—its muted tone and procedural focus—also make it a difficult sell to a mass audience.  

• Critical Strengths:

  • Restrained, realist direction by Shivam Nair.

  • Nuanced, career-best performance from John Abraham.

  • Breakout, emotionally raw performance by Sadia Khateeb.

  • Avoidance of jingoistic tropes.

• Common Criticisms:

  • Slow pacing in the first half.

  • Narrative structure sidelines the female protagonist.

  • Unnecessary subplots involving the diplomat's family.

Ultimately, The Diplomat is a significant and thought-provoking film, and a worthy watch for anyone browsing Goojara for intelligent cinema. It successfully recalibrates the Indian political thriller, trading bombast for a more mature, procedural tension. While its fidelity to its source material leads it into the familiar territory of the male saviour narrative, it does so with a sensitivity and intelligence that invites critical engagement rather than easy dismissal. It is a film that will be remembered not only for the harrowing story it tells, but for the complex questions it raises about how cinema negotiates the fraught terrain of truth, gender, and national identity.