As they often do in a Neeraj Pandey-helmed production, self-serious men still speak in a clipped, no-nonsense voice, as if they were Aaron Sorkin bots fitted with wrong algorithms.
As if to offset the one-note film-making, the characters are perpetually in a hurry. It’s hard to tell a morning jog from an aggressive chase. An ISIS-controlled town in Syria looks like a Bollywood set fitted with lazy Muslim stereotypes.
Avinash finally embarks on this personal mission across these three episodes. He recruits former badass colleagues with the derivative swag of a spy who seems to enjoy signing off with “your ticket is in the mail”.
The series has nowhere to hide anymore. The build-up implied that the extraction might be cool and complex. But it’s the opposite of cool and complex.
The premise is so conscious of being exposed that it turns to gimmicks. For instance, part of the plan involves finding an Aliya doppelganger.
We have two swappable reviews of The Freelancer to prove that. Logistical challenges aren’t an issue for a mythical hero like Avinash – money, forged passports, weapons, guts – and yet the series insists that he’s a real-world chap.