“Sarzameen ki salamati se badhkar kuch bhi nahi.” That’s Malayali Army officer Vijay Menon’s (Prithviraj Sukumaran) favourite line in Sarzameen, and he says it like his life depends on it. As we know, this isn’t common speech — it’s merely added for some kind of cinematic heft, and also (perhaps) to remind us of the film’s name. Vijay’s Malayalam-tinged Urdu is often hurled at Pakistani terrorists. I don’t think they’re polite to not laugh at the man, knowing diction-shaming is uncool in 2025. In short, Kayoze Irani’s full-length feature debut has many liabilities, but the biggest is casting Prithviraj Sukumaran, who looks like he has no clue why he’s in this universe.
Now, while we’re on film blunders, this weekend also finds two people out to ruin the legacy of Gupt — Bollywood’s beloved musical thriller. One is its maker (Rajiv Rai with a fresh disaster named Zora) and, now, its leading lady. Kajol, why in the name of Sahil Sinha, why?
Back to the film: somewhere in Kashmir, Vijay is married to Mehr (Kajol), and they have a son, Harman, who stammers. Vijay, the macho Army daddy, is appalled — because how dare his son not growl out “sarzameen” or something like that? For background, Vijay’s father was a former military man who rigorously reared his son to be like him.
Enter a gang of terrorists who kidnap Harman. Vijay does his sarzameen routine. Mehr loses her son. The terrorists don’t get what they want. So, nobody wins.
Cut to 8 years later, Harman (now played by Ibrahim Ali Khan) returns with more muscle on the body and nothing to twitch on his face. The boy is now a spitting image of Saif Ali Khan from the ’90s, minus the squeaky voice. Saif, even on his laziest day, would have eaten this role for breakfast, but that’s not the point. The real mystery is why Sarzameen exists at all.
This film treats Vijay Menon as if he were the only competent officer around, while in reality, he is the ACP Jai Dixit (Dhoom) of the Indian Army. Boman Irani, playing his superior, drops in and out of scenes — maybe to keep an eye on his son, who’s directing this mess. Vijay, in the middle of this chaos, remains blissfully unaware of what’s happening around him in his family, even as the film insists he’s some genius Army strategist.
Kajol, meanwhile, is busy pulling out bits from Gupt and Fanaa, and maybe a sprinkle of We Are Family and Raazi, in an attempt to craft a mother-homemaker-meets-superspy hybrid. Ibrahim? Poor guy barely gets dialogues, but don’t worry — the body is shown and duly flexed.
Kayoze Irani also wants us to believe Sarzameen is about a bullied boy’s redemption and the triumph of love over hate. I would want to know who pitched, “Nafrat ko badle ki nahi, mohabbat ki zaroorat hoti hai,” in 2025 and got paid for it.
Predictably, none of these ideas land. The only real chemistry between father and son is their mutual struggle with basic Urdu diction. Also, who came up with the idea of naming the boy after an audio brand (Harman) and then making him barely audible? It’s genius. If I were the writer, the villain would be called Jamaal Butt Lahori… alias JBL. Kajol shares a few warm moments with the younger Harman, but that chapter ends before you realize. The actor is great with children on screen, I realize.
The cinematography doesn’t help either. In one stretch, the scene suddenly jumps from snowcapped Kashmir to a rainy, muddy location like Kerala. It’s as if the DOP (Kamaljeet Negi) switched to a different movie mid-shot. You can almost sense the editor giving up.
In a film with no backbone, you usually hope the actors salvage something. Here, Prithviraj — layered in thick makeup — is an aesthetic choice yet wildly miscast. He looks like he wandered in from the sets of L2: Empuraan and got stuck in camo attire. Kajol tries valiantly, but you can’t Gupt your way out of this wreck. Also, was Mehr supposed to be older than Vijay? Because the age gap is conspicuous. Not that older women can’t marry younger men, but a little backstory would’ve helped the story in Sarzameen.
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As for Ibrahim Ali Khan, his screen presence makes you miss Hrithik Roshan from Mission Kashmir. Sarzameen desperately wants to mirror that father-mother-son-nation emotional complexity, but it barely scratches the surface.
It’s easy to blame the writers here — clearly, they grew up on bad Bollywood references and impossible Hollywood fantasies. But how did the producers and actors not object to this illogical mess? When good actors and strong scenes are nowhere to be found, the film resorts to songs. Sonu Nigam and Shreya Ghoshal try their bit, too. And then, two Punjabi vocalists belt out a high-pitched number in the finale. The lyrics pop up mid-dialogue, and no, this isn’t an Animal and “Arjan Vailly” situation. It’s just a director flailing for attention.
As the film ended, I became curious to know at what point they realized Sarzameen wasn’t good enough for a theatrical release. Karan Johar, who often laments about his past flops and bad business decisions, has got another entry for 2025 in his “things to regret” diary. As for Ibrahim, he’s far more entertaining posing outside his Bandra gym than on screen. He can probably give the leg day a miss, but not his acting and diction classes.
Rating: ★
Sarzameen is now streaming on Jio Hotstar.
