It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a star’s person eventually subsumes every character that they play on screen. With Sunny Deol, it’s never about whether he is good or bad in a film. It’s about Sunny Deol playing Sunny Deol in a Sunny Deol film! The necessary accoutrements are all in place. The slow-motion entry, the clenche d f ist , the admonishing finger, the fiery stare, the high-octane roar and of course, the “dhai kilo ka haath”.
Together, they provide the intended comfort of familiarity. As for Akshaye Khanna, the Dhurandhar hangover continues to loom large. The hair is still there, though not quite as glorious as before, but recognisably similar. The tilted neck, the inverted smile and the studied mannerisms are even more pronounced. Bookended by these two larger-than-life performances is a story struggling to breathe and say something of its own. A young girl is brutally assaulted under mysterious circumstances. As she battles for her life in the hospital, the action shifts to the courtroom. Enter Arjun Mehra (D e ol), a lawyer whose reputation precedes him.
Such is his standing that the moment he agrees to repre s ent someone, public opinion has already declared that person innocent, even before the court can. So why is he defending the obnoxious Shauryaman Gaur (Khanna), the bratty son of a powerful politician? Surely, insists the prosecution lawyer (Tillotama Shome), he knows something the rest of us don’t. The details emerge in bursts and splutters. While the central mystery isn’t particularly groundbreaking , director Siddharth P. Malhotra, whose previous films include Hichki and Maharaj, tries to elevate the material by focusing on the people caught within it. Writers Althea Kaushal and Mayank Tewari attempt to flesh out the narrative by giving even the supporting characters emotional and moral complexity.
Not every layer lands with equal force, but the effort to look beyond a straightforward courtroom thriller gives Ikka a measure of depth. What truly keeps us invested, however, are the film’s three women. Tillo t ama Shome is wonderful as the warm-hearted Bengali public prosecutor Madhura Banerji, perpetually a little out of breath as she juggles the demands of home and profession. She inhabits the role so completely that it becomes difficult to separate the actor from the character. Then there is Dia Mirza as Arjun Mehra’s wife and the emotional anchor of the film. She shines in the quieter, more intimate moments, lending warmth and texture to a narrative otherwise pitched in a relentlessly shrill, melodramatic register.
The most affecting performance, however, comes from Jyoti Mukherji as the assaulted girl’s mother. We spend very little time getting to know the victim herself, and despite the entire narrative hinting on uncovering what happened to her that fateful night, we are never given enough reason to emotionally invest in her. Had it not been for the beautifully written mother and the profound humanity Mukherji brings to the role, the outcome of the case would have felt largely academic.
It is because of her that we care enough to stay invested until the final frame. As they say, one must play the hand life deals us. No matter how compelling the supporting performances may be, the narrative is irrevocably tilted in favour of its hero, Ikka, the ace lawyer destined to win the case, never mind how convoluted the journey to that victory becomes. Ikka is engaging while it lasts, but it never quite becomes the gripping courtroom drama it aspires to be. The initial excitement of watching Akshaye Khanna after his terrific turn in Dhurandhar gradually fizzles out as he appears more self-conscious here than he has in years. Sunny Deol, meanwhile , delivers exactly what his audience turns up for. Whether that’s enough depends entirely on what you came looking for. Ikka is now streaming on Netflix.
(THE REVIEWER IS A FREELANCE CONTRIBUTOR. VIEWS EXPRESSED ARE PERSONAL.)