Some films age gracefully, acquiring charm and nostalgia over the decades.
Others age like leftover curd left in the sun for two days.
Shaitaan (1974) is firmly, irrevocably, enthusiastically the latter.
Marketed as a stylish Hindi thriller about murder, double identities, and moral conflict, Shaitaan instead plays like a fever dream someone had after falling asleep during a True Crime radio show while recovering from food poisoning. This is the kind of movie that makes you stare at your screen halfway through and ask yourself, “Is this really happening, or am I also seeing a double?”
Let’s break it down—carefully, slowly, with gloves on.
A Plot So Chaotic It Should Come With a Flowchart
We begin with Anand (Shatrughan Sinha), an “honest police officer,” which in 1970s Bollywood is code for “he can’t sing and flirt as much as the other male lead.” Anand’s best friend is Munish (Anil Dhawan), a famous lawyer whose talent seems to lie not in the courtroom but in attracting trouble like a magnet dipped in sleaze.
Munish’s sister Nisha is in love with Anand—though “in love” is generous, considering she appears for approximately three minutes and then disappears like the film forgot about her. Sharmila Tagore shows up, looks gorgeous, smiles, and then vanishes. It’s less a special appearance and more a hostage cameo.
Suddenly, the city is struck by a series of gruesome rapes and murders. This setup is grim, tense, disturbing…
And Shaitaan handles it with all the sensitivity of a circus elephant tap-dancing on a glass table.
Victims pile up faster than the script can explain what’s going on, and Anand discovers they’re all connected to Munish. Naturally, instead of wondering why so many women in the city orbit this man like he’s a sketchy gravitational pull, the film insists on leading us in circles.
Enter Shabnam (Padma Khanna), a survivor who escapes from the killer. Finally—someone who can identify him! Someone who can crack the case! Someone who can—
“It’s Anand!” she screams.
And suddenly, the plot collapses like a rickety chair under a heavyweight.
The Double Role Twist: Or, How to Break Your Own Story
Shatrughan Sinha plays two characters: the righteous Inspector Anand and his evil lookalike Ashok, who is responsible for the crimes. If that sounds dramatic, fear not—the film handles this twist with all the subtlety of a bad magic trick.
Instead of clever buildup or suspenseful reveals, the film simply drops the information like the screenwriter tripped over the typewriter and accidentally added a twin.
And Ashok?
Let’s just say he’s the kind of villain who thinks “rapist serial killer” is a character arc. With every scene he appears in, the film feels like it’s punishing the audience for choosing to press play.
The mistaken identity setup—which could’ve made for thrilling drama—unravels into a variety pack of absurd misunderstandings, ludicrous reactions, and police work so incompetent it makes cartoon detectives look like Nobel Prize recipients.
A Tone That Bounces Between Thriller, Drama, and Mild Confusion
The film wants to be an edgy crime thriller.
The film thinks it is a gritty psychological drama.
The film is—unfortunately—a confused mashup of tropes that don’t belong together.
Consider the pacing:
Scenes meant to be suspenseful stretch so long they feel like they’ve been placed on a cosmic slow cooker. Characters stare intensely into the middle distance while ominous music blares, usually for no reason other than the editor falling asleep at the splicer.
Dialogues are delivered with dramatic pauses so exaggerated they could qualify as commercial breaks. Entire scenes feel like they were choreographed by someone who learned blocking by watching ants bump into each other.
The Characters: A Whole Circus Troop of Tone-Deaf Choices
Shatrughan Sinha as Anand/Ashok
Sinha tries—he really does—but even he cannot elevate material this sloppy. His “good cop” is wooden. His “evil twin” is unhinged. Together they average out to “mildly annoyed man with a moustache.”
Anil Dhawan as Munish
Munish is supposed to be a charming lawyer. Instead, he spends most of the movie looking like a man who lost his car keys and never recovered emotionally.
Sharmila Tagore as Nisha
Blink and you’ll miss her. In fact, blink twice and you’ll forget she was even advertised as starring in this movie.
Padma Khanna as Shabnam
The only character with trauma that feels real—and the script treats her like a plot device with legs.
Jagdeep as Maqtulla
Comic relief in a thriller about serial rape and murder is… a choice. And not a good one. His scenes land with all the grace of a brick being dropped on a pile of bricks.
Craft and Style: A Masterclass in How to Age Terribly
Visually, the film looks like a documentary about poor lighting. Scenes are murky. Fight sequences appear choreographed underwater. Suspense sequences are shot as though no one involved had ever actually felt suspense.
The background music by R.D. Burman is—surprisingly—excellent. Unfortunately, it feels like it wandered in from a far better movie and accidentally got trapped here.
Satan may be the title, but the editing is the real devil. Cuts are abrupt and jarring, like the editor was racing the clock or actively trying to sabotage the film. Characters teleport between locations. Emotional beats vanish mid-scene. Flashbacks appear without warning—as if the movie suddenly remembered something it meant to mention earlier.
Themes, If You Can Call Them That
The film attempts to talk about:
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crime and justice
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identity
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betrayal
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psychological turmoil
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the nature of evil
But mostly it’s talking about:
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looking like your evil twin is extremely inconvenient
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police procedures are optional
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women in thrillers are disposable props
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logic is for cowards
The Third Act: A Sprint Into Nonsense
As everything unravels, the film panics and throws in every thriller cliché available: dramatic confrontations, courtroom scenes, chases, confessions, close-ups of sweaty faces, “shocking” reveals telegraphed 40 minutes earlier, and speeches about justice that feel plagiarized from old Doordarshan broadcasts.
By the time the film resolves the identity confusion and captures Ashok, the audience is too tired to care. Anand is cleared. Munish is emotionally scarred. Nisha is forgotten entirely. And the film ends with the kind of moral clarity you’d expect from a student who didn’t read the textbook but still wrote the essay.
Final Verdict: A Devil of a Mess
Shaitaan is the rare thriller that manages to be grim without being gripping, dramatic without being engaging, and twisty without being clever. It’s a relic of 1970s Bollywood filmmaking where everything is loud, long, lurid, and unintentionally funny.
If you enjoy:
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thrillers where the police respond slower than dial-up internet
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double roles that add confusion rather than intrigue
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villains whose logic is powered by evil fumes
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suspense scenes that feel like filler episodes
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and comic interludes that should be illegal
Then sure—give Shaitaan a watch. Preferably with friends, snacks, and a strong willingness to laugh at scenes that were never meant to be funny.
Otherwise?
The only real devil here is the runtime.
