Tag Archives: Siddharth P. Malhotra

Movie Review: Ikka (2026)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Ikka on Netflix

The courtroom drama Ikka (“Ace“) is billed as a tense showdown between veteran actors Sunny Deol and Akshaye Khanna, and in that regard, it delivers. With a different directorial focus, Ikka could have been more than that. An intriguing premise goes unexplored in favor of an approach that is broad and shallow.

Deol plays undefeated celebrity defense attorney Arjun Mehra, nicknamed “Ikka” for his penchant for playing his key evidence in dramatic, last-minute fashion. He and his wife Avantika (Dia Mirza) share a 13-year-old daughter, Samaira (Daria Bedi). The girl is diagnosed with leukemia, which is treatable with a bone marrow transplant.

Meanwhile, Arjun is hired to defend Shourya (Khanna) — son of a wealthy politician — for the attempted murder of a young woman named Soma (Akansha Ranjan Kapoor), who is alive but unconscious. Arjun initially refuses, due to a long-standing conflict between the men, but he relents because he needs Shourya to donate his bone marrow to Samaira. Why? Shourya is Samaira’s biological father! He dumped Avantika when she refused to get an abortion, and Arjun married her instead, raising Samaira as his own.

The soapy setup is amplified by a heavy-handed Julius Packiam score that doesn’t trust the audience enough to draw its own emotional conclusions. Transitions between tense scenes and light-hearted ones are awkward as is, and the overwrought score makes them even more so.

Another way in which Ikka is heavy-handed (in a good way) is it’s pro-woman point of view. Arjun’s main moral conflict in his approach to how he litigates the case is whether or not to use Soma’s social media account — complete with photos of her drinking alcohol and posing for photos with men — against her. He doesn’t want to tarnish her image in order to win, even if his own daughter’s life is on the line. The movie spends a lot of time on this plot point, really emphasizing how repugnant victim-blaming is.

There are related themes that are brought up but aren’t explored as much as they could’ve been. Samaira is taunted by some classmates because her father is defending “that rapist.” It would have been great to have a scene where Samaira and her father talk about violence against women and legal rules versus moral ones — even better if Samaira copped a bit of age-appropriate attitude with her dad. Instead, the plot point is dropped after Samaira says that she defended her dad’s reputation offscreen.

Fans watching Ikka for tense scenes between Sunny Deol and Akshaye Khanna will not be disappointed. Deol pounds his fists on the table and shouts. There are multiple shots of Khanna scowling and walking in slow motion — a shot popularized in Dhurandhar that filmmakers will struggle to resist going forward.

Tillotama Shome plays the prosecutor opposing Arjun, Madhura Banerjee. Shome is as reliable a performer as there is, and she does a fine job here, even if she’s asked by director Siddharth P. Malhotra to make her expressions a bit more obvious to match the bold energy of the men.

Dia Mirza spends the film acting circles around everyone else in the cast. She plays her role straight and absolutely nails it, lending gravity to all her scenes. Had everyone in Ikka been encouraged to take the same approach to their performances, the film might have felt more substantial and less pandering.

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Movie Review: Maharaj (2024)

2.5 Stars (out of 4)

Watch Maharaj on Netflix

Maharaj recounts a legal case of historic importance but fails to stir the emotions around its sensitive subject matter.

The main story takes place in Bombay in 1862 and focuses on journalist Karsandas Mulji (Junaid Khan, son of Aamir Khan). Growing up in Gujarat, young Karsan questioned everything, refusing to follow orders on blind faith. By the time he was 30, he was an established social reformer, activist, and writer.

A devout Hindu, Karsan worships at a sect run by a charismatic religious figure — or maharaj — called JJ (Jaideep Ahlawat). The other holy men at the place of worship appreciate JJ for expanding the sect’s reach and growing its coffers.

In return, JJ exploits his peers’ permissive attitude and his followers’ blind faith to indulge in what the movie calls “erotic escapades.” He uses tradition to pressure young women devotees into having sexual intercourse with him under the moniker of “divine service.” Other men pay to watch, promised that witnessing the act will help them achieve salvation.

Theology also enables this sexual abuse. Holy texts are written in Sanskrit, which most lay people can’t read. The maharaj interprets scripture for the laity, who lack the knowledge to challenge his interpretations. It’s akin to the language barrier which separated Catholic lay people from the liturgy until the 1960s, at which point priests were finally allowed to conduct mass in local languages rather than exclusively in Latin. The parallels between the abusive culture in Maharaj and the abuse abetted by the Catholic Church is hard to miss — though the film goes out of its way to frame JJ as a lone bad actor without blaming Hinduism as a whole.

JJ’s abuse comes to light when he sets his sights on Karsan’s fiancée Kishori (Shalini Pandey), and Karsan witnesses her partaking in “divine service.” Though she’s uncomfortable about what happened with JJ — it’s unclear whether she knew she was being observed by strangers — her faith refuses to allow her to question the leader’s intentions. Only when Karsan breaks their engagement does she realize she may have been wronged by the holy man.

Kishori’s mistreatment prompts Karsan to write about JJ’s sexual abuse in his newspaper. JJ responds with social pressure, witness intimidation, and even arson. When Karsan refuses to back down, JJ sues him for libel for an astronomical amount of money.

The way the events are portrayed in Maharaj — which is directed by Siddharth P. Malhotra and written by Sneha Desai, Vipul Mehta, and Bernard Williams — Karsan prints his allegations with little in the way of concrete proof, so there actually is an interesting question as to whether JJ has a case. Unfortunately, the courtroom scenes show little of the legal back-and-forth and primarily set up Karsan’s climactic speech (though JJ does give a few theatrical shows of power that are entertaining).

Overall, the film falls into an uneasy space where it doesn’t hit the emotional parts of the story as hard as it could have for a real melodrama, nor does it delve into the details like a legal drama or film on investigative journalism. It’s undoubtedly watchable, but it feels like a very well done made-for-TV movie.

Ahlawat is perfectly cast as the slimy JJ, maintaining an infuriating air of self-assurance throughout. Pandey is sympathetic as the duped Kishori. Shavari Wagh appears midway through the film as Karsan’s admirer, Viraaj, but the comic relief she’s asked to provide feels out of place.

Khan is under the microscope as a star’s son his first lead role, and he performs okay as Karsan. It’s a tough role to play in a story this tepid. Khan is very tall, and there’s a physical awkwardness to the way he moves — like a foal on unsteady legs. Being that he’s a newcomer, it’s hard to know if that’s his characterization of Karsan or simply him.

Malhotra and studio Yash Raj Entertainment tread carefully with this story about a corrupt holy man to avoid inflaming tensions unnecessarily, resulting in a movie that pulls its punches. Unfortunately, the folks who were always going to be mad about it got mad anyway, and the rest of us got a movie that was good but not great.

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