Sarzameen, posing as a political thriller, crumbles under recycled daddy-issue tropes and formulaic storytelling, wasting its stellar cast and Kashmir backdrop on shallow drama, clichéd conflicts, and predictable melodrama. Arnab Banerjee’s review.
Director: Kayoze Irani
Cast: Prithviraj Sukumaran, Kajol, Ibrahim Ali Khan
Cinematographer: Swapnil Sonawane
Rating: ★½

Sarzameen, directed by Kayoze Irani and starring Prithviraj Sukumaran, Kajol, and Ibrahim Ali Khan, struggles to rise above its tired father-son conflict and predictable melodrama. Marketed as a political thriller set against the Kashmir backdrop, the film fails to deliver emotional depth or gripping tension. While Ibrahim Ali Khan shows promise in his role, the narrative is weighed down by clichés and implausible plot twists. The soundtrack by Vishal Mishra and Vishal Khurana, especially Aa Gale Lag Ja, is the film’s saving grace. Compared to nuanced family dramas like Udaan, Piku, and Kapoor & Sons, Sarzameen feels like an uninspired retread of worn-out Bollywood formulas.

Daddy Dearest and the Endless Loop of Legacy
Ah, the Hindi film industry—forever suckling at the teat of generational trauma. And what better trope to flog than the threadbare baap-beta conflict? Not because it’s profound, but because it’s easy. Like instant noodles. Or, more accurately, an overused Dharma cliché.

The problem isn’t the father-son dynamic itself (Oedipus would nod in recognition), but the exhausting laziness with which it’s recycled—served cold like yesterday’s biryani, reheated in a microwave of melodrama. Legacy vs. rebellion, ego vs. emotion, moustache vs. stubble... again? Somewhere along the LoC of storytelling, imagination went AWOL.

Political Thriller or Family Therapy?
Enter Sarzameen, marketed as a taut political thriller. But strip away the camo, and it’s just daddy issues in fatigues. Directed by Kayoze Irani—who might have shown promise were he not handcuffed by cliché—the film is less about geopolitics and more about emotional constipation between a stoic colonel and his angsty son. The only thriller element is how seriously it takes itself.

Prithviraj Sukumaran plays Colonel Vijay Menon, a man so wedded to duty he forgets he has a son with a stutter—and a soul. Enter Harman (Ibrahim Ali Khan), a misunderstood teen desperate for paternal validation. But Dad has the warmth of a landmine. Kajol, stuck in a thankless role, plays the perennial peacekeeper in this family Cold War, armed with teary eyes and a single recycled line: Maa kitna bhi pyaar kare, beta toh baap jaisa hi banna chahta hai.
Ah yes, the eternal wisdom that no matter how nurturing the mother, the son still craves Papa Patriarchy’s gruff nod.

The film lumbers toward an implausible crescendo: Harman is kidnapped, radicalised, and—plot twist!—joins the very terror outfit Daddy has sworn to destroy. In a development more unbelievable than an Arnab Goswami whisper, national security is breached purely by narrative convenience. The Army, apparently, can’t recognize its own colonel’s son on the other side.

Kashmir, rather than serving as a setting for nuanced political tension, is reduced to a snowy backdrop for family therapy with guns. The insurgency is cardboard, the intelligence dim, and the writing—court-martial-worthy.

What Good Storytelling Looks Like
It’s not that Hindi cinema hasn’t handled parental themes with nuance. Udaan (2010) gave us a raw, personal portrait of toxic fatherhood. Kapoor & Sons (2016) tackled sibling rivalry, queer identity, and infidelity without drowning in melodrama. In Piku (2015), Shoojit Sircar explored the complexities of a father-daughter bond with gentle humour and restraint. Masaan (2015) stands tallest—a haunting tale of grief and dignity, where silence speaks louder than sentiment. Even Mukkabaaz (2017), though not strictly a father-son story, uses its coach-athlete dynamic to interrogate masculinity, caste, and control with biting clarity.

Clearly, the theme isn’t tired—it’s the lazy, cookie-cutter execution that is. Great cinema emerges when stories are emotionally specific and rooted in truth, not when they’re stuffed with overwrought tropes and narrative shortcuts.

Performances and Music Save Some Grace
Among the cast, Ibrahim Ali Khan—after the forgettable Naadaniyan—redeems himself with a credible portrayal of a conflicted teenager. Strikingly reminiscent of his father Saif Ali Khan, he shows promise and delivers a performance that doesn’t disappoint.

The music, composed by Vishal Mishra and Vishal Khurana with lyrics by Jaani and Kausar Munir, adds texture. Tracks like Mere Murshid Mere Yaara, Ve Mahiya, Watna Ve, and Aaj Ruk Jaa are melodious, but it’s Aa Gale Lag Ja—sung by Sonu Nigam and Shreya Ghoshal—that truly stands out, lingering long after the credits roll.

In short: Sarzameen wants to wave the flag, wipe a tear, and redeem Daddy—all in one go. But in trying to do it all, it settles for the same old formula, served with little nuance, even less logic, and a generous dose of déjà vu.