‘Ikka’ (2026) Netflix Movie Review - Sunny Deol's Legal Thriller Is a Major Misfire

At a TED Talk-style event, Arjun Mehra (Sunny Deol), a renowned lawyer, uses a hypothetical case to discuss the justice system. It involves a hit-and-run in Pune where the culprit happens to be the spoiled child of a rich father. The outcome of such a case would be predictable, and Arjun doesn't argue otherwise. Rather, he asks what would happen if the car were swapped with a truck and the rich, spoilt kid replaced with someone poor. Are the car driver and the truck driver, in the eyes of the law, the same? What about the court? Arjun then goes on to argue that the law mistreats the poor and that "the sense of justice is a feeling in your gut." "In court, we don't fight cases to win but to secure our rights," he emphasizes.

This opening scene establishes Ikka's political framework, which writers Althea Kaushal and Mayank Tewari, along with director Siddharth P. Malhotra, combine with a dramatic framework set in motion by a swimming competition where Arjun's daughter, Samaira (Daria Bedi), suffers a nosebleed and loses consciousness in the water. How does one feed into the other? The bridge between Arjun's professional ideology and his personal life is Shauryaman Gaur (Akshaye Khanna). He is accused of murdering a young woman named Soma Mittal (Akansha Ranjan Kapoor), and Arjun is hired to defend him in court. But defending him means walking back everything he argued in his opening speech. He would have to put at stake the reputation that has made him the champion of the innocent. Arjun doesn't believe for a second that Shauryaman is innocent. Shauryaman, however, firmly asserts that he can make mistakes but cannot commit crimes.

In any case, Arjun decides to defend Shauryaman because of what happens during the swimming competition. Samaira suffers from a medical condition, and it's Shauryaman who can cure her. How? That's for you to discover. But the idea Ikka brings up through this setup is fascinating enough: a lawyer who believes in providing justice to the innocent is forced to defend a man who might really be guilty of murder. This means he would have to pass off false evidence as the truth to free the perpetrator. Arjun has to swallow his pride—and his principles—for someone he doesn't even like. Ikka, in a way, is about a hero's transformation into a villain for a personal favor. He has to choose between his own family and the family of the victim. Arjun's choice makes him selfish; he exhibits clannish behavior.

Malhotra, unfortunately, doesn't go all the way with this uncomfortable development. The most likely reason is the casting of Deol. You can strongly sense that the filmmakers don't want to spoil the star's "family-friendly" image. You can practically see them sweating in their attempt to keep Arjun from becoming a complete villain. Whenever Arjun does something "objectionable," the movie follows it with a scene that underlines how his hands are tied and that he's doing what he must for someone else's good. Either Deol or Malhotra—or both—don't want to tarnish the stardom of the man at the center. Deol merely tries on shades of grey for fun. Ultimately, he still prefers to be seen as a conventional savior. Ikka even throws in a "dhai kilo ka haath" line for goodwill, which makes it feel a bit illogical. The line comes from the prosecutor, Madhura Banerjee (Tillotama Shome), who says her hand got injured in an accident. What exactly happened?

Ikka doesn't offer an explanation. Its nods and gestures are surface-level—more casually dropped in than fully fleshed out, more decorative than significant. Arjun's wife, Avantika (Dia Mirza), gives Soma's digital footprint to Arjun to strengthen his defense, which also means he would have to assassinate Soma's character in court. Maybe, through this action, Malhotra wants to say something about women going against women, but any implication rings hollow because the decision doesn't affect Avantika herself. She never reflects on it afterward, nor does she discuss it with her husband. It's just one of those things that exists in the film as hollow noise, and Ikka is filled with more such moments. Samaira complains that her schoolmates tease her because her father is defending a rapist, but this amounts to little more than a disposable scene. It has no deep or psychological impact on her. Madhura has one of those backward-minded husbands who expect their wives to always cook for them and feed them. Since Madhura is career-oriented, their relationship consists almost entirely of conflict and bitter verbal exchanges. Malhotra, though, doesn't take this thread anywhere in particular. All it does is use the husband as an obstacle—a weak one at that—for Madhura later.

Why was Shauryaman disbarred by Arjun? What kind of arrangement does Shauryaman have with his wife (Sanjeeda Sheikh), and does she get the same "benefit" as he does? Malhotra remains mum. He merely adorns the screen with simplistic, superficial slogans about law and order and depends on his "good moral values" to score brownie points with the audience. Why, he doesn't even bother developing the victim as a character. Her function—and that of her mother's—can be reduced to one generic line: "Poor people desperately seeking justice in court." The two characters are akin to that truck driver, while Shauryaman is the spoiled kid of a rich father. Ikka, however, doesn't even work as a "thesis." It's such a massive misfire that it fails as a courtroom drama, a domestic drama, an investigative thriller, and a crime drama. Malhotra proves inept at energizing his scenes; Ikka is devoid of both suspense and drama. It's a bland, unremarkable legal thriller without thrills, without creative risks, and without memorable performances. It's a total washout.