At its heart, Kanu Behl’s Despatch aspires to be a cogent critique of the changing world of journalism—a world in which the pursuit of truth has become as commodified as the stories it seeks to uncover. Through the lens of Joy Bag (Manoj Bajpayee), a veteran crime journalist on the cusp of obsolescence in an age dominated by digital immediacy, the film attempts to navigate the complex, morally ambiguous world of newsrooms, scandals, and personal collapse. While the film’s premise promises an intriguing journey into Mumbai’s underworld and the challenges faced by a journalist fighting to stay relevant, Despatch often falters in delivering a satisfying narrative, bogged down by a flawed protagonist whose narcissism ultimately robs the story of emotional depth.
Manoj Bajpayee’s portrayal of Joy is undoubtedly one of the film’s strongest assets. The actor, known for his versatility and masterful ability to embody complex, layered characters, brings a palpable depth to this morally gray journalist.
Joy is not your typical heroic figure—he is a man haunted by his past mistakes, driven by an insatiable need to uncover the next big story, and trapped in a personal life marked by infidelity and emotional detachment. Bajpayee, in his impeccable skill, breathes life into this flawed figure, making his every move feel both inevitable and tragic.
His portrayal of Joy’s desperate quest for relevance is deeply compelling—at once sympathetic and repulsive. It is his performance, with its subtlety and restraint, that keeps the viewer invested, even as the character flounders in a mire of self-interest.
Yet, therein lies the central problem of Despatch—Joy is, in many ways, an unlikeable, self-absorbed figure whose flaws are so pronounced that it becomes difficult to engage with him on any deeper emotional level. The film spends much of its runtime exploring his personal vices: his extramarital affair, his complicated relationship with his wife Shweta (Shahana Goswami), and his casual manipulation of younger women, including Prerna (Arrchita Agarwal). These elements are undeniably crucial to the film’s noir sensibility, where human weakness and moral ambiguity are foregrounded.
But in Despatch, Joy’s narcissism becomes so all-consuming that it leaves little room for redemption or growth. His manipulations of the women around him are depicted not as a means to an end, but as a central trait of his character—a weakness that is not only intolerable but almost incomprehensible. His choices are driven less by circumstance than by an inherent sense of entitlement, which drains the film of any real emotional weight.
It’s difficult to reconcile the character of Joy with the profession he represents. Journalism, in its purest form, requires a commitment to the truth—a pursuit that comes with considerable risk and responsibility. Behl and co-writer Ishani Banerjee certainly attempt to highlight the pressures of the modern newsroom. The digital revolution has, according to the film, not only stripped the profession of its credibility but also accelerated the decline of older, more traditional journalistic values. This is embodied in Joy’s resistance to technology: he is out of touch, clinging to outdated tools like a Nokia phone, and finding himself increasingly irrelevant in a world that prioritizes speed over substance.
However, Despatch never fully delves into the nuanced, often dangerous realities of being a journalist in such an environment.
There is a unstable sense of risk in the story—a journalist investigating a major scam, stumbling upon dangerous criminal networks, and fighting to uncover the truth despite immense pressure from all sides.
Yet, the film skirts around the specifics of this investigation, often glossing over the tedious, methodical work that journalism requires. We see Joy traipse through the murky alleys of Mumbai, uncovering corrupt practices, but the intricacies of his investigative process remain vague. The real danger in a newsroom—be it from political influence, corporate interests, or physical harm—feels more like a plot device than a lived reality.
The central conspiracy involving the 2G scam and the underworld never quite materializes into something that feels grounded in the world of journalism. The narrative gets so lost in the personal drama surrounding Joy’s failing marriage and his toxic relationships that it neglects to establish the stakes of the investigation.
While the dark underbelly of Mumbai is evocatively depicted, it’s almost as though the story is less about uncovering a massive conspiracy and more about Joy’s self-destructive journey. By the time the film reaches its climax, the sense of urgency or importance surrounding the journalistic investigation is undercut by the overwhelming focus on Joy’s personal unraveling.
This is where Despatch becomes problematic: it aspires to be both a meditation on the collapse of journalism and a character study of a man whose narcissism blinds him to his own moral decay. As a neo-noir, it tries to balance these elements, but it never fully succeeds. The plot, which should have been driven by the professional stakes of exposing a massive corruption scandal, often feels secondary to Joy’s internal conflicts. This leaves the viewer with a sense of emotional distance—not just from Joy, but from the narrative itself.
The film’s treatment of its female characters compounds this problem. Shweta, Joy’s wife, is caught in a marriage where she is continually betrayed, and Goswami’s performance conveys the quiet devastation of a woman holding onto a dying relationship. Yet, Shweta’s character arc feels underdeveloped, her anguish serving more as a tool to heighten Joy’s personal tragedy than as a fully realized emotional journey in its own right. Similarly, Prerna, who initially comes across as a character capable of challenging Joy’s manipulations, ultimately succumbs to his charm without any real narrative consequence. These female characters, rather than being partners in their own right, seem to exist solely to reflect the protagonist’s flaws, further emphasizing the film’s self-indulgent focus on Joy’s unraveling.
By the time the film reaches its denouement, which aims for a nihilistic ending, the viewer is left with little emotional resonance. The narrative threads, which seemed so promising in the early stages, disintegrate into a tangled mess of half-baked conspiracies and unresolved character arcs. The film’s decision to leave some questions unanswered feels less like a clever twist and more like an unwillingness to confront the complexities it introduces.
What could have been a sharp commentary on the decay of journalism and the personal costs of ambition becomes, in the end, a hollow exercise in style over signification.
Despatch is a film that captivates momentarily but struggles to maintain its grip. Manoj Bajpayee’s towering performance anchors the film, yet the character of Joy ultimately undercuts the narrative’s potential. The exploration of journalism’s challenges and risks is stilted and incomplete, and the plot’s focus on Joy’s personal failings undermines the larger story. In trying to juggle multiple themes—media, corruption, personal redemption—it loses sight of the one that could have made it truly memorable: the fragile, dangerous line between truth and self-interest. Despatch is, unfortunately, a film that will leave you wondering what might have been.
IWMBuzz rates it 3 stars.
