In 2000, Vidhu Vinod Chopra’s Mission Kashmir gave Indian cinema a powerful, emotionally searing portrayal of radicalisation, trauma, and the Kashmir conflict, anchored in a believable father-son dynamic. Twenty-five years later, Sarzameen attempts a similar arc, father hunting son, a family torn apart by ideology, but stumbles into melodrama, clichés, and one of the most poorly written screenplays in recent memory.
Directed by Kayoze Irani (actor Boman Irani’s Son) in his feature debut, Sarzameen stars Prithviraj Sukumaran as Colonel Vijay Menon, a decorated army officer, and Ibrahim Ali Khan as his estranged son Harman, who feels abandoned by his father and joins a militant organisation. Kajol plays Meher, the mother caught in the crossfire of grief, loyalty, and disbelief. It’s a premise that could have delivered both high-octane drama and emotional devastation. Instead, it feels like a hollow echo of better films.
AT A GLANCE
Film: Sarzameen
Director: Kayoze Irani
Cast: Prithviraj Sukumaran, Kajol, Ibrahim Ali Khan, Mihir Ahuja, Boman Irani
Rating: ★☆☆☆☆
The father-son conflict is ostensibly the beating heart of the film, but it fails to connect beyond the surface. Although the makers attempt to rationalise what led to the rupture between Colonel Vijay and Harman, the explanation is too conveniently packaged. The motivations are told, not felt. You understand the logic, but you don’t feel the ache. There’s no emotional heft behind the strained glances or explosive outbursts. What could have been a devastating portrait of love curdled into distance ends up as a series of staged confrontations that never quite land.
Prithviraj does his best with the role, playing the upright soldier with quiet dignity, but the writing doesn’t give him a believable emotional arc. Ibrahim Ali Khan, still finding his footing in the industry, shows flashes of intensity but is let down by a script that reduces his character to a confused bundle of rebel clichés. The father-son scenes are framed with great dramatic flair—close-ups, thundering music, poetic voiceovers—but they leave little emotional residue.
Kajol, as Meher, is yet another victim of the film’s undercooked writing. An actor of her calibre deserves more than close-ups of tear-filled eyes and generic lines about maternal pain. The film attempts to mirror her past performances in Fanaa and My Name is Khan, but her character lacks depth, agency, or even a compelling voice in the narrative.
If the central emotional arc fails to cement, the rest of the film isn’t far behind. The screenplay leans heavily on familiar patriotic tropes: the loyal officer, the misunderstood youth, the martyr complex, and the teary musical montage. A qawwali interlude arrives during a high-stakes scene, feeling more like a misplaced music video than a moment of tension. The writing is littered with logical loopholes, phone calls missed during crisis moments, villain monologues that stretch believability, and a twist ending so contrived it nearly derails whatever goodwill the film still has left.
And just when you think it’s over, the film rolls its end credits – twice. A baffling stylistic choice that feels like an accidental double-tap rather than a narrative device.
There are a few technical merits. The cinematography captures the lush, troubled landscape of Kashmir with precision. But gloss alone cannot mask the lack of emotional engagement or narrative clarity.
Where films like Haider, Fiza, and yes, Mission Kashmir, grounded their conflict in layered characters and real stakes, Sarzameen remains content with surface-level sentiment. It gestures toward gravitas but offers none. The personal never quite meets the political, and the tragedy never feels earned.
In the end, Sarzameen is a forgettable detour in Bollywood’s long list of Kashmir dramas. It had the cast, the canvas, even the courage to broach difficult themes. What it lacked was nuance, depth, and a story that truly understood the pain it tried so hard to portray.
All mission, no emotion. Revisit Mission Kashmir instead.
