‘120 Bahadur’ review – Patriotism without peddling hate

As civilians, most of us are not familiar with war fields. We hear stories from folklore, listen to ballads of valour, and then there is cinema. When you think about such a space, what’s the most heartrending image that appears in your mind? To me, it’s a soldier’s wallet – the one he carries into battle. However dramatic that might sound, it usually has a picture of his loved ones – spouse, children, parents. In Razneesh ‘Razy’ Ghai’s 120 Bahadur, too, we get a fleeting moment like that. For once, I thought to myself, why is it important to show it? The answer is more of a question rather. As we live safely nestled in our homes, catching the war news bulletin with our loved ones, do we think about a soldier’s family or his or her life at all?

War, in any form, is rarely a profound answer to conflict. The real battles are fought in closed rooms where decisions are taken, but the soldier at the border enters the field with no political agenda. They only know of a feeling – nationalism – the love for one’s motherland and the need to protect it against invaders. When Major Shaitan Singh Bhati (Farhan Akhtar) takes a tough decision to fight over 3000 Chinese soldiers in the Battle of Rezang La with his troupe of 120 soldiers, a fierce surge of patriotism courses through you, provided you are moderately moved by the idea of loving our nation.

120 Bahadur is a brave chronicle of a war that Indian soldiers fought with minimal resources to successfully defend against the entry of Chinese forces into Indian territory. At a time when Indian society was less fractured by religion and materialism, it was common for families to send multiple children to the Armed Forces — particularly in communities like the Ahirs of Haryana, who make up almost entirely the Charlie Company featured here.

Ghai builds this cultural authenticity well: the shared lingo, the earthy humour, the communal bonding — all of it organically positions Shaitan Singh as a leader who commands respect, not fear.

The film wastes no time. Told through fragmented, rousing flashbacks, 120 Bahadur quickly immerses us in battlefield strategy. The perspective we get is from a rookie soldier named Ramchander Yadav (Sparsh Walia), which is also close to a civilian point of view. A radio operator, he waltzes into the troupe almost as disarmingly breezily as we park ourselves to watch the film. Slowly and steadily, he gets inducted into what it means to be a true soldier, while we, the audience, stay glued to the screen with the popcorn refusing to move past our throats.

One thing I feared before watching 120 Bahadur was not that it would be melodramatic – I wouldn’t have minded a little sentiment. I didn’t want Ghai’s film to be apologetic. The Sino-Indian War, as we know, didn’t result in an Indian victory. The trap in films about such events is that they can turn defensive. Unlike Panipat, which busied itself with externalising blame, 120 Bahadur refuses to retreat. The only indulgence is a brief contrast between the Indian soldiers’ meagre diet and the Chinese soldiers’ lavish feast — a creative liberty that remains largely harmless.

Speaking of liberties, 120 Bahadur does not avoid a family point of view, although we only get it for Shaitan Singh. We see the soldier celebrate Diwali with his family well before the day, before leaving for war. At a later point, we see an angle where he guides his son to love his mother and his motherland. You can see your mother; you need to feel for your motherland – an idea (and parenting style) slowly dissolving amid differences and brainwashing. This is also the message that Ghai’s film quietly threads through its evocative narrative. 

“Dada Kishan Ki Jai,” the troupe’s war cry, functions as a cultural marker rather than a chest-thumping slogan. Rajiv G Menon’s writing acknowledges the Ahir identity without exoticising or flattening it. To give an excuse for a song, the film introduces a character who is a great singer. Menon makes sure to close his arc gracefully. Similarly, the angle between two bickering soldiers and a shared chocolate is done well, even though we see it approach from a mile away.

Menon’s screenplay isn’t particularly exciting in the first act. They do the world-building and context-setting, but without taking long detours into the soldiers’ backstories. Shaitan Singh is largely no-nonsense, although affectionate in his own way. 120 Bahadur also does not spend time over-explaining the roles in the troupe. The radio operator gets his moments to shine and so does the cook – conveying how each role is indispensable and respected in a setup like war.

The most stunning technical triumph of 120 Bahadur, without an iota of doubt, is its cinematography. While one expects the commotion in the war sequences to thrill and enrage, the DOP Tetsuo Nagata does a lot more by elevating the limited colour palette and Spartan landscapes into striking tableaux. His drone shots offer scale; his close-ups offer intimacy. The visual grammar alone vaults 120 Bahadur above most contemporary war dramas.

Rameshwar S. Bhagat’s editing stitches the non-linear narrative together with clarity. It is the flashback approach that makes a rather straightforward story appear cinematic. Then comes the film’s weakest department – its soundtrack. Javed Akhtar’s lyrics are good, yet the tunes and the renditions feel far too contemporary for a 1962 setting. I’d say I missed the kind of sound that was in Border or LOC: Kargil. Satish Raghunathan’s background score sometimes jars — especially the whispered rendition of “Dada Kishan Ki Jai” during battle.

Thankfully, the robust sound design (Pranav Shukla) compensates, grounding the action with credible atmospherics. The dialogues (Sumit Arora) are splendid, evoking some of the classic Hindi war films (in a good way).

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Coming to the cast, 120 Bahadur is not a film one naturally associates with Farhan Akhtar. Yet it took only a few scenes to re-realise that he directed Lakshya. As the story’s anchor, Akhtar is outstanding, and his raspy voice blends seamlessly with the charged war cries. The actor sheds every trace of his off-screen polish to inhabit the Rajput commanding officer with authenticity. This way, Akhtar’s turn is both a personal milestone and a genre benchmark. The brutality of the terrain is evident, yet nothing in his performance feels forced. 

Sparsh Walia, who appears in the key supporting role, makes a pleasant screen debut. Vivan Bhathena is superb (and unrecognizable) with a thickened dialogue delivery and buffed-up physique. Ankit Siwach, Ashutosh Shukla, Atul Singh, Devendra Ahirwar, Brijesh Karanwal, and Dhanveer Singh all get their moments in smaller yet significant parts. Eijaz Khan especially shines in the quieter moments. The actors representing the Chinese side are predictably loud, which works in the film’s favour but not quite in carving a neutral narrative.

Ghai’s filmmaking ticks most boxes. Notably, there’s an aerial shot of the war ground towards the end. There, we see only fallen bodies, indistinguishable as Indian or Chinese. This simple yet powerful storytelling device underlines how war serves no one who fights it on the frontlines. Despite the film’s patriotic subject, Ghai also refrains from peddling easy hate. There is no demonisation of China, no grandstanding from political figures, and no attempt to alter historical perception. The conflict remains strictly at the soldier’s level, a brave choice in today’s political climate.

If 120 Bahadur even rekindles a fraction of interest in forgotten chapters of India’s military history, it is a victory for its makers. With stories like the one Ghai, Menon and Akhtar bring to them, today’s viewers – especially the easily radicalized ones – must know that there are more poignant topics from the past that deserve exploration before we analyze absurd theories, such as whether the Taj Mahal was a Hindu structure or not.

Rating: ★★★ 1/2