Ikkis Movie Review: Sriram Raghavan’s Quiet, Powerful Anti-War Statement for Our Times

A new year, and what a way to begin it with a film by Sriram Raghavan. And yet, on the surface, Ikkis doesn’t feel like a Sriram Raghavan film at all. A war biopic is unfamiliar territory for a filmmaker best known for his sharp, cerebral thrillers, and initially, Ikkis almost appears like a concession to the times - an era where jingoism rings loud and chest-thumping nationalism delivers the same adrenaline rush that films like Dhurandhar thrive on.

That assumption, however, is exactly where Raghavan proves us wrong. In hindsight, the clues were always there, even in the trailers. As Raghavan himself has often said, the greatest war films are, at heart, anti-war films. Border, for all its patriotism, ended with the aching plea of “Mere Dushman Mere Bhai”. And perhaps the most devastating war film ever made remains Paths of Glory, directed by Stanley Kubrick - a film that strips warfare of all its false heroics.

Ikkis firmly belongs to that tradition. While recounting the extraordinary bravery of one of India’s youngest Param Vir Chakra awardees, Arun Khetarpal, Raghavan also dares to articulate a yearning for peace amid the bloodshed that history tells us will continue. The climactic allegory of a tree reminding how nature and time heal scars on the battle-land quietly contrasts with wounds carried in human hearts, which fester unless met with forgiveness and the courage to move on. Otherwise, they bleed endlessly, because we keep prodding them.

That conviction makes Ikkis a bold anomaly in our present climate, where bloodlust is often cheered on from both sides of the border. Voices calling for restraint or reason are quickly branded anti-national and shouted down. Wars are discussed like sporting contests, complete with cheering crowds. I once believed such enthusiasm came only from those with nothing at stake. I was wrong. Either there is profit to be made, or there is a tragic failure to understand that even if your kin aren’t fighting on the frontlines, everyone becomes a casualty of war - directly or indirectly. War is not a cricket match; it is the ultimate failure of political processes, paid for with lives by those who never make the decisions.

Seen in that light, Ikkis becomes a timely reminder of a larger, uncomfortable truth - without ever diminishing the valour of Indian soldiers. Crucially, Raghavan refuses to turn the enemy into a faceless abstraction. This is not a video-game worldview. When a soldier remarks that crossing into Pakistan doesn’t feel any different, or when villagers mistakenly cheer an Indian battalion thinking it is their own, the film leaves you to sit with those moments and draw your own conclusions.

The narrative unfolds across two timelines. The 1971 portions follow Khetarpal himself - young, fiercely idealistic, and often exasperating in his moral rigidity. His bravery during the Battle of Basantar, which ultimately led to his sacrifice at just 21, forms the spine of the film. These sections are handled with restraint. Agastya Nanda, showing marked improvement after his underwhelming debut in The Archies, brings sincerity to the role. The romantic subplot with debutante Simar Bhatia is tender, and Raghavan’s eye for period detail - from cinema listings to Coke bottles - grounds the era beautifully. Khetarpal’s idealism may initially feels distant; he resembles that rigid class monitor no one wants around. But as his convictions propel him toward the frontlines, you begin to understand the kind of man those ideals shaped.

The war sequences themselves are technically impressive - naturalistic, tactile, and free of showy excess. If there is VFX at play, it never announces itself. Raghavan consciously avoids on-screen jingoism, a choice that might feel counterintuitive for a film of this genre, but one that only strengthens its emotional impact. The climactic tank assault is among the most gripping pieces of war-action storytelling seen in recent Hindi cinema, incredibly propelled through Anil Mehta's lenses and Sachin–Jigar's rousing score.

Running parallel is the second timeline, set in 2001, with Indo-Pak relations still raw after Kargil. Arun’s father, Retd. Brigadier Madan Lal Khetarpal, is portrayed by Dharmendra, who travels to Pakistan for a college reunion and stays with Brigadier Jaan Mohammad Nisar, played with remarkable sensitivity by Jaideep Ahlawat. Nisar carries a confession he is deeply conflicted about revealing, and while its nature is not hard to guess, Raghavan’s patient build-up and devastating reveal land with immense force.

It is difficult to imagine a finer swansong for Dharmendra, especially under the direction of an unabashed admirer like Raghavan. This is among the most emotionally affecting performances of his career. From a quiet lunch scene where he wonders why his son had to die at 21, to the final convergence where past and present collide, Dharmendra ensures you are never left dry-eyed. Even seemingly incidental moments - exchanging wallets with old classmates to show family photographs, or revisiting his ancestral home lost during Partition - carry a profound ache. I do not recall ever tearing up during a Sriram Raghavan film before this.

It is no exaggeration to say that Ikkis is elevated by this 2001 track, without in any way undermining the 1971 sections. Predictably, some will accuse the film of “humanising the enemy”, particularly through Nisar’s portrayal. That reading misses the point. Ikkis merely insists that humans exist on both sides of a border, in all their moral complexity. The cameo by Deepak Dobriyal is a stark reminder of how bitterness corrodes humanity, while the quiet spy games and administrative manoeuvring underline the deep mistrust between the two nations. The film never denies reality; it only reminds us that this is ultimately a political game, where ordinary people either die as heroes or live on as expendable pawns.

For those seeking Raghavan’s visual flair, it is present - just not in the stylised manner of his earlier films. There are inspired touches throughout: a transition cut from a character peering through a lens in a tree to another looking through a periscope, or a beautifully fluid time-jump as Nisar walks through a government school. Ikkis may not be a quintessential Sriram Raghavan film, but it unmistakably bears his imprint. More importantly, in its quiet conviction and moral clarity, it might well be his most vital film for the times we live in.