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We’ve officially entered the era where hacking doesn’t just belong to the world of Hollywood, black-hooded rebels, and dark alleys of the internet — it’s right here, around us. Every other day, we hear stories of data leaks, accounts being compromised, and full-blown cyberattacks on institutions and individuals alike.

And yet, these stories barely make us flinch anymore; they’ve become a part of our reality, a cost we unconsciously pay for being so connected. Against this backdrop, Qulfee tries to give hacking a human face, a reminder that behind every virus or software breach, there’s always a story.

Directed by Saleem Dad and produced by Kalakar Entertainments, the film, part thriller and part commentary, puts us in the world of Xulfee, played by Shahroz Sabzwari, a brilliant coder with a dark past, tangled loyalties, and a software that could change everything.

Let’s break it down.

Cracking the code: the plot

The movie begins with Xulfee and his team — Komal (Saeeda Imtiaz), Hira (Maryam Ansari), Cookie (Wali Hamid Ali Khan), and Mamoo (Javed Sheikh) who are trying to save his software named Qulfee. The software primarily has personal data of customers.

Xulfee’s father, a former crime lord, wants him to lead a better life, free of violence. But redemption doesn’t come easy. Enter Ghulab Chatri, or GC (Shamil Khan), a hardened villain with zero patience for emotion or failure.

Xulfee makes a 50-50 deal with GC, naïve or strategic, we’re not entirely sure, but the moment things start going south, we see the price of this misstep. One by one, Xulfee’s allies are taken out: Mamoo is shot, Cookie is arrested, and soon, he’s left to fend for himself while protecting his software from falling into the wrong hands.

The second half becomes a fast-paced game of double-crosses, close escapes, and hidden motives.

The human behind the hackers

While action is at the core, it’s the characters who carry the story. Sabzwari plays the smart, slightly cold hacker well — always in hoodies, unreadable expressions, and a brain working five steps ahead.

Imtiaz, in her debut role as Komal, brings sincerity, though her performance would benefit from more depth and screen presence, something that comes with time and experience. Despite being a debutant, she commits genuinely to the emotional gravity of the character.

Her presence feels honest — she doesn’t overplay the drama or try to mimic tropes. It helps in staying grounded in the middle of a tech-thriller environment where it’s easy to get lost in jargon or action. Pakistani films, especially those hinged on action or thrill, usually have females for the sake of glamour — this wasn’t the case in Qulfee.

Veterans like Sheikh and Moammar Rana, who plays SP Khadim, leave an impact, with Rana proving you don’t need to be the lead to stand out. Shamil, in his first villainous role, surprises with how naturally he slips into the part, especially through his expressive face and calculated menace.

Credit must also go to the women of Qulfee — Sana Fakhar (SP Shela), Layla Dastan (cybercrime officer Layla), and Imtiaz—who all get their fair share of action scenes, stepping out of stereotypical roles and into power-packed ones.

Sound, style and speed bumps

Musically, the film leans heavily into the Bollywood zone, with tracks composed by Bapi Bhattacharya of Sarkar fame. The romantic number ‘Heer’, sung by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan, is also a tad too Shahrukh Khan-esque in execution and wardrobe, reminding me of ‘Gerua’, and even ‘Suraj Hua Madham’. The locations, however, were stunning.

What holds Qulfee back is its editing. There are moments in the two-hour long haul, where the scenes are cut too fast or lack continuity as one chase blends into another without clear resolutions.

The script tries to balance action with light comic relief, but not all the humour lands. One clear example is when Mamoo, who is meant to offer levity amidst the chaos. But rather than easing the tension, his jokes feel forced, poorly timed and slightly crass.

Qulfee’s storytelling feels unfocused because it tries to do too much at once. It sets up a compelling premise — a hacker trying to redeem himself — but derails this arc with too many side plots, and secondary characters with no backstories. So, in trying to be everything — a social commentary, a cyber-thriller, and a masala entertainer — it ends up being a little bit of everything and not enough of anything.

One could clearly see the locations being shifted drastically, for instance the chase began from fleeing Karachi and ending up in supposedly at a railway station (that resembled Attock railway station) and then returning to Karachi which made zero sense.

A tighter edit and more focused storytelling could’ve lifted the film considerably.

Final frame: the price of staying online

In the end, Qulfee is more than a hacker movie — it’s a warning wrapped in a thriller. It reminds us that the tech we use daily isn’t neutral. It can protect, but it can also destroy. And for Gen Z and Gen Alpha, who live and breathe through screens, understanding the risks of the digital world is no longer optional.

The film shows that hacking is no longer a distant threat belonging to shadowy corners of the internet; it’s right here, deeply embedded in our everyday lives. By centring its plot around Xulfee, a brilliant but morally conflicted coder, the film humanises the often faceless world of cybercrime. It drives home the idea that behind every cyberattack, every software breach, there’s a story, a motive, and most importantly, a consequence.

Perhaps this was the first time a movie has been made in Pakistan on this subject and it was good to see local cinema tackling topics that go beyond romance and revenge, diving into digital dilemmas that mirror our everyday anxieties.

Qulfee may not be perfect, but it makes a point: in a world where everything is connected, staying aware is your best defence.