Ikkis Movie Review: Dharmendra, Jaideep Ahlawat & Agastya Nanda Deliver A Deeply Moving War Drama

Ikkis Movie Review: Directed by Sriram Raghavan, Ikkis emerges as an inspiring biographical war drama that favours quiet introspection over chest-thumping nationalism. Inspired by the life of Second Lieutenant Arun Khetarpal, India's youngest recipient of the Param Vir Chakra, the film celebrates courage, sacrifice, and remembrance while thoughtfully exploring the emotional journey beyond the battlefield. With its empathy, the narrative lets sincerity lead the way, leaving the audience with a lingering sense of pride.

With Ikkis, Raghavan has achieved something many filmmakers of the genre have strived for but rarely manage. He delivers a film that connects deeply without leaning on volume or spectacle.

Agastya Nanda steps into the role of Arun Khetarpal with sincerity and conviction in his first theatrical release. He portrays the young officer as driven, upright, and quietly brave, with a natural intensity that never slips into forced heroism. There is an earnestness to his performance, capturing a man who has discovered his purpose. Arun's courage reveals itself through his choices. His decision to stay back in his burning tank, despite clear orders to retreat, plays out as an instinctive act rooted in character rather than spectacle. Nanda fits the role with ease, bringing a raw emotional honesty that makes Arun Khetarpal's sacrifice resonate deeply.

The film unfolds across two timelines, a narrative choice that adds depth to the storytelling. The first is set during the Battle of Basantar in December 1971, where a 21-year-old Arun Khetarpal commands his tank regiment through mine-laden terrain against formidable odds. These moments are driven by tension and realism, emphasising the psychological weight of leadership and the courage required to shoulder responsibility in the chaos of war.

The second timeline, set in 2001, forms the film's emotional anchor. Dharmendra ji's portrayal of Brigadier M. L. Khetarpal reflects a life shaped by sacrifice long after the war has ended. His interaction with Brigadier Khwaja Mohammad Nasir, portrayed by Jaideep Ahlawat, shifts the film into a deeply reflective landscape. Here, the film moves beyond history and conflict, focusing instead on shared humanity and the quiet reckoning that follows a war.

Dharmendra ji leaves a lasting impression in his final film role, bringing quiet depth through silences, gestures, and unspoken emotions. His performance carries grief, pride, and memory with remarkable restraint. Jaideep Ahlawat complements him with a dignified, reflective turn, and their shared scenes form the emotional core of Ikkis, standing out for their sensitivity and understated portrayal of post-war reconciliation.

The background score mirrors the film's understated tone, subtly enhancing moments of tension, loss, and reflection without overpowering them. War sequences rely on natural sound design, while the 2001 portions use sparse, contemplative music. The dialogue remains measured and purposeful, resonating through honesty rather than heightened drama.

The VFX are handled with care, favouring authenticity over spectacle. The tank combat feels immersive and claustrophobic, capturing the danger of armoured warfare while keeping the focus firmly on the soldiers and the story.

Sriram Raghavan directs Ikkis with quiet assurance, trusting both the story and the audience to absorb its silences and pauses. The tightly written screenplay by Raghavan, Arijit Biswas, and Pooja Ladha Surti balances its dual timelines smoothly, with every scene serving either the narrative or character depth. Overall, the performances are consistently strong, with debutant Simar Bhatia leaving a warm impression as Kiran, Arun Khetarpal's love interest, adding emotional weight to the film.

Ikkis reflects Dinesh Vijan's Maddock Films' growing commitment to meaningful, content-led cinema, backing a story shaped by emotional honesty and historical sensitivity rather than formula. At its core, the film is about holding on to humanity amid conflict, speaking gently of love, loss, duty, and belonging. By choosing compassion over rhetoric and remembrance over spectacle, it honours sacrifice without glorifying violence, allowing history to be felt with empathy rather than proclaimed.