Sikandar-A Tired Star in a Tired Tale

Salman Khan’s latest offering, Sikandar, released on March 30, 2025, arrives with the kind of fanfare only a Bollywood superstar can command—especially on an Eid weekend. Directed by A.R. Murugadoss and produced by Sajid Nadiadwala, the film promises high-octane action, emotional resonance, and the larger-than-life heroism that has defined Khan’s career for decades. However, what unfolds on screen is a disappointing slog—a dated, formulaic mess that fails to capitalize on its potential, leaving even the most ardent “Bhai” fans grasping for something to cheer about.
The plot centers on Sanjay Rajkot, aka Sikandar (Salman Khan), a wealthy and revered figure in Rajkot who doubles as a messiah for the common man. When he crosses paths with a corrupt minister (Sathyaraj) and his entitled son (Prateik Babbar), a chain of events leads to the tragic death of his wife, Saisri (Rashmika Mandanna). Her organs are donated to three struggling individuals—a slum kid, an ambitious woman (Kajal Aggarwal), and a heartbroken girl—prompting Sikandar to protect them from the minister’s vengeful wrath. It’s a premise that could have been poignant or thrilling, but Murugadoss’s execution reduces it to a predictable parade of clichés, punctuated by action sequences that feel more obligatory than inspired.
Khan, at 59, still possesses an undeniable screen presence, and his fans will find fleeting moments to celebrate—his mid-air entry on a plane is undeniably slick, and a few hand-to-hand combat scenes briefly recall the swagger of his prime. Yet, there’s an unmistakable lethargy to his performance. The emotional beats, particularly those tied to his wife’s death, lack depth; his expressions oscillate between stoic and strained, as if he’s reading lines off a cue card rather than inhabiting the role. The much-hyped CGI to smooth out his age is distractingly inconsistent—sometimes he looks polished, other times like a wax figure caught mid-melt. It’s a stark reminder that even technology can’t mask a star who seems disinterested in evolving.
Rashmika Mandanna, as Saisri, is saddled with a thankless role that exists primarily to prop up Sikandar’s nobility. Her chemistry with Khan is non-existent, a problem exacerbated by the jarring age gap—acknowledged in a throwaway line but never meaningfully addressed. The supporting cast fares no better: Sathyaraj’s villain is a caricature of menace, Sharman Joshi is wasted as a loyal sidekick, and Kajal Aggarwal’s brief arc feels like a tacked-on PSA for women’s empowerment. Only the child actor playing the slum kid, Kamraan, injects a flicker of authenticity into the proceedings.
Murugadoss, once celebrated for reinventing Aamir Khan in Ghajini, seems content to coast on autopilot here. The screenplay—credited to four writers—lurches from one tired trope to the next, with dialogue so banal it’s almost self-parody (“Ab insaaf ki nahi, inhe saaf karne ki zaroorat hai”). The action, a supposed highlight, is repetitive and uninspired—slow-motion goon-flying shots and exploding cars can’t compensate for choreography that lacks flair or stakes. The editing is choppy, and the pacing drags, especially in a second half that leans heavily on preachy moralizing about humanity and organ donation. Pritam’s songs are forgettable, and Santhosh Narayanan’s background score, while occasionally rousing, can’t salvage the film’s lethargic pulse.
At a bloated runtime, Sikandar feels like a relic of a bygone era—one where Khan’s charisma alone could carry a flimsy script to box-office glory. But in 2025, with audiences craving freshness and Indian cinema pushing boundaries elsewhere, this film’s reliance on outdated formulas is glaring. It’s not just that the story is predictable; it’s that it’s delivered with such little conviction that even Khan’s die-hard fans might struggle to stay invested.
The film’s Rs 200 crore budget—reportedly one of Nadiadwala’s priciest ventures—shows in its scale but not its soul. For all its grand sets and CGI crowds, Sikandar lacks the heart or innovation to justify its existence. Salman Khan remains a cultural juggernaut, but this outing suggests he’s running on fumes, propped up by a team too reverent to challenge him. Once, his nonchalance was part of his charm; now, it’s a liability.
Verdict: Sikandar is a labored misfire that neither reinvents its star nor entertains its audience. It’s a film that mistakes noise for substance and nostalgia for relevance. For Salman fans, it might offer a few fleeting thrills; for everyone else, it’s a snooze best skipped. Rating: 1.5/5