Let's be honest: when Nadaaniyan dropped earlier this year, many of us were ready to declare Ibrahim Ali Khan's acting career D.O.A (dead on arrival).
The film was so poorly made, so bizarrely out of touch with its own genre, that it felt like an elaborate prank. Ibrahim, bless him, didn't just sink with the ship; he was the ship.
From delivering shirtless monologues about fiscal deficits to awkwardly wooing women with lines like, "Tum itni hot ho ki global warming ki wajah bhi shayad tum hi ho," his performance was so wooden it might've given your IKEA shelf complex.
A still from Nadaaniyan
So when Sarzameen finally released, after delays, rewrites, and what appears to be zero work on lighting, expectations were understandably subterranean.
And yet, miracle of miracles, the man did it. Ibrahim Ali Khan is, against all odds, the only thing that worked in Sarzameen, a film otherwise so dimly lit and emotionally hollow it felt like watching Border on a dying tube light.
The Curse Of Nadaaniyan
Nadaaniyan, a Netflix original under the Dharma(tic) banner, was supposed to be Ibrahim's glossy launchpad, the kind only star kids with perfect genetics and impossible jawlines get.
What it became instead was a cinematic disaster of such proportions that even Mrs. Serial Killer started looking like a misunderstood masterpiece.
A still from Nadaaniyan
Directed by Shauna Gautam, Nadaaniyan was riddled with post-dub errors, laughably disconnected lips and voices, and some of the worst writing this side of Himmatwala.
Ibrahim played Arjun, a privileged-but-angsty boy who wins debates with his abs and charms girls with refrigerator-magnet poetry.
A still from Nadaaniyan
His dialogue delivery was equal parts disinterested and unintentionally hilarious. He performed like he knew a second film was already in the works, which, as it turns out, it was.
Enter Sarzameen
If Nadaaniyan was a failure of direction, writing and acting, Sarzameen is a failure of tone, lighting and storytelling, but in that graveyard of good intentions, Ibrahim somehow stands tall.
Helmed by debutant director Kayoze Irani, the film attempts to mash together family drama, militancy, patriotism, and identity crisis into one explosive package. Spoiler alert: the fuse never quite lights.
It follows Lieutenant Colonel Vijay Menon (Prithviraj Sukumaran), whose emotional intelligence is as arid as the snow-covered valley he's posted in. His wife Meher (Kajol, in one of her flattest performances) tries to bridge the widening gap between her harsh husband and their stammering son Harman.
A still from Sarzameen
That is, until Harman is kidnapped and presumed dead, only to return years later as a sculpted, soft-spoken, strangely familiar stranger named Haaris.
The plot tries to do too much: Kashmir insurgency, a strained father-son relationship, a "who is he really?" mystery and ends up saying very little. The cinematography is inexplicably underexposed, entire sequences play out in what feels like a power cut, and the film's much-hyped "twist" lands with the grace of a wet sock.
Ibrahim, The Lone Survivor
But here's the thing: Ibrahim Ali Khan is actually good in this film. Not groundbreaking. Not award-worthy. But good, convincing, sincere, and most importantly, watchable.
A still from Sarzameen
As Harman/Haaris, he plays a young man torn between nations, loyalties, and personal identity. His stammer, previously a narrative gimmick, is now used to subtly reflect internal conflict. His rage isn't performative, it simmers. He emotes with restraint, especially in scenes opposite Prithviraj, where Ibrahim holds his own with surprising maturity.
It's a redemption arc, both onscreen and off. Prithviraj himself echoed the sentiment when he said Sarzameen should have been Ibrahim's actual acting debut. And he's right, had this been the first glimpse we got of the actor, the narrative around him would've been vastly different. Trolls may have had to look elsewhere.
Kajol And The Case Of The Vanishing Character
Unfortunately, Kajol, usually dependable even in lesser films, is let down by the writing here.
As Meher, the mother torn between a son she's lost and a husband who's emotionally unavailable, she's given little to work with beyond tired melodrama.
A still from Sarzameen
Her performance feels phoned in, as if even she knew this wasn't the project that required her A-game. The chemistry between her and Prithviraj is cold, and her big emotional moments barely register.
A Dimly Lit Cautionary Tale
There's a whole conversation to be had about Sarzameen's baffling visual aesthetic. Was it an artistic choice to make every room look like it's lit by a single dying candle? Or was it budget cuts? Whatever the reason, the film's gloomy palette paired with its moral confusion and cliche-laden script makes for an oddly claustrophobic experience.
A still from Sarzameen
For a story set in one of the most visually stunning regions in the world, Sarzameen feels visually suffocating. It promises grandeur, delivers gloom. It wants to be emotionally resonant but lands somewhere between melodrama and missed opportunity.
The Final Verdict
Ibrahim Ali Khan didn't just survive Sarzameen; he elevated it (of sorts). That's not a small feat, considering the film's many flaws. His growth from the cringe-inducing overconfidence of Nadaaniyan to the quiet conviction in Sarzameen is real and worth acknowledging.
A still from Sarzameen
He might still have a long way to go, but if this is the direction he's headed, there's hope yet.
Next time, though, someone please get the lighting team a ring light.