‘Glory’ review: Show about boxing, family and revenge knocks itself out of the ring

Glory is loaded with familiar but strong elements: a murder mystery, a revenge arc, a dysfunctional family from Haryana, the competitive world of Indian boxing. The Netflix series created by Karan Anshuman and Karmanya Ahuja and directed by Anshuman and Kanishk Varma begins with the death of an Olympic hopeful being coached by Raghubir (Suvinder Vicky).

Raghubir’s daughter is critically injured during the assault. News of this incident brings her estranged brothers Ravi (Pulkit Samrat) and Dev (Divyenndu) back to their hometown. Before long, the brothers return to a cycle of violence, ambition, vengeance and unresolved history.

The seven-part show is propelled by the murder mystery, set against the backdrop of the boxing world and layered with familial trauma. Dev and Ravi are shaped by an obsessive, abusive father. But the narrative is repeatedly derailed by a clutter of over-the-top, largely dispensable characters. What should be a tight, emotionally driven drama instead becomes tonally scattered, with several dangling threads.

Where Glory does find some footing is in its performances. Divyenndu is the clear standout as Dev, easily the most compelling character. Dev is volatile, impulsive and deeply wounded, and the only one given layers and momentum. In spite of a terrible hairdo, Divyenndu brings a lived-in intensity and depth that the show sorely needed.

Pulkit Samrat’s Ravi works as a quieter counterpoint, though the writing doesn’t always support that restraint. A boxing star who had to bow out of the spotlight, Ravi is driven by sporting instinct. Samrat works hard to fit into the mould of a champion boxer, but the training montages, match design and choreography are a letdown.

Impacting all these lives is Raghubir, who’s consumed, almost to the point of instability, by his obsession with Olympic glory. The series hints at the psychological cost of that obsession, but does not explore it with enough depth. Surprisingly, Suvinder Vicky does not effectively convey the anguish either.

The supporting cast is a mixed bag, based on derivative and tawdry character sketches. Sikandar Kher’s Kookie, a don in fur and suede who operates out of a quarry, feels imported from a different genre altogether. Ashutosh Rana, as Raghubir’s rival Viju Sanghwan, is pushed into similarly heightened territory, as are Yashpal Sharma’s bull-obsessed sarpanch and Zakir Hussain’s corrupt cop. Across the board, characters seem driven more by brawn than brains, reacting first and thinking later.

Among the women, Kashmira Pardeshi’s Bharti, the upright cop Arvind’s wife, is an untenable femme fatale, who comes across as a red flag from scene one. Sayani Gupta’s Joyna, a journalist investigating the boxer’s death, is reduced to a plot device.

One of the biggest disappointments is the boxing. Though some details of and insights into the sport’s ecosystem seem accurate, for a series constantly referencing Olympic dreams and sacrifice, the boxing scenes are remarkably lifeless and perfunctory. Even the in-ring commentary often sounds simplistic to the point of unintended humour.

To compensate, Glory relies on style: editing patterns, dramatic framing, camera movements and a background score that swells to manufacture feeling. After six episodes of build-up, the finale fails to deliver on its promise, with both the emotional and physical tension falling flat.

Glory talks a lot about sacrifice but never makes you feel the weight of it. The violence is extreme, the grief feels distant, and the storytelling is high on testosterone but low on feeling and insight.