A solemn and compelling tribute to courage, sacrifice, and national memory, reviewed by Arnab Banerjee, this film analysis examines how 120 Bahadur elevates a forgotten chapter of Indian military history with authenticity and emotional depth.
120 Bahadur is a powerful war drama that revisits the Battle of Rezang La with emotional authenticity, stellar performances, and immersive visuals. This review highlights the film’s craftsmanship, historical resonance, and stirring tribute to the 120 soldiers whose sacrifice shaped India’s legacy.

A Silent Salute: Honouring the Fallen in 120 Bahadur
Director: Razneesh “Razy” Ghai
Cast: Farhan Akhtar, Raashii Khanna
Cinematography: Tetsuo Nagata
Music: Amit Trivedi, Salim–Sulaiman, Amjad Nadeem Aamir
Score: Satish Raghunathan
Duration: 136 minutes
Rating: 3.5/5
In the last decade, Hindi cinema has witnessed a surge of patriotic historical dramas, each striving to present tales of courage rooted in pivotal moments of India’s past. Within this landscape, 120 Bahadur, directed by Razneesh “Razy” Ghai, sets its sights on one of the most stirring chapters of the 1962 Sino-Indian conflict. Farhan Akhtar steps into the challenging role of Major Shaitan Singh, the charismatic commander whose steadfast leadership during the Battle of Rezang La has long been revered but insufficiently explored on film. The result is a work that marries emotional solemnity with the visceral spectacle of war, aiming to honour a legacy that remains vital to national memory.

Unearthing a Chapter of Courage
The film anchors itself in the chilling Ladakhi winter, where Major Singh and his company of 120 soldiers find themselves charged with defending the strategically irreplaceable Chushul Valley. The narrative wastes no time in establishing the overwhelming disadvantage the Indian troops face: outnumbered nearly thirty to one, ill-equipped, and forced to fight in a treacherous terrain where survival itself is a challenge. Despite these odds, Major Singh embodies the unwavering resolve of a leader who knows that retreat is not an option. Farhan Akhtar plays him with a deliberate restraint—his heroism emerges not through theatrics but through measured determination, the kind that inspires loyalty without needing to shout its command.

At its core, 120 Bahadur is a tribute to the soldiers who perished on that fateful November day. The Battle of Rezang La, though etched into military history, has rarely been depicted with this level of reverence. Here, the filmmakers refrain from sensationalism; instead, they allow the stark brutality of the conflict to speak for itself. The screenplay by Rajiv G. Menon, supported by Sunit Arora’s understated dialogue, opts for authenticity over flourish. The film’s tone mirrors the gravity of the sacrifice it portrays—quiet, respectful, and unwavering in its determination to honour the fallen.

However, the film’s early sections struggle under the weight of exposition. In attempting to build an emotional foundation for Major Singh, the narrative briefly explores his personal life, particularly his relationship with his wife, Sugan (Raashii Khanna). While these moments aim to contrast the soldier’s public duty with his private tenderness, they feel dutiful rather than enriching, offering little insight into the inner landscape of a man otherwise portrayed with stoic resolve. This slight unevenness affects the pacing; the film’s momentum occasionally wanes before it reaches its harrowing crescendo.

The Battle That Defines the Film
Nevertheless, when the narrative returns to Rezang La, 120 Bahadur regains its full energy. The final hour is a relentless depiction of a battle fought with grit rather than ammunition. The “120 warriors,” bound by camaraderie and duty, defend their outpost with a courage that borders on mythic. Director Ghai and cinematographer Tetsuo Nagata craft the battlefield with precision: the blinding snow, the roar of artillery, and the silhouettes of men who know each moment could be their last. The choreography of combat is unflinching, at times difficult to witness, yet its brutality is never gratuitous. It serves as a stark reminder that behind every celebrated victory lies a cemetery of unnamed heroes.

Farhan Akhtar’s performance is both committed and affecting, though at times his youthful appearance works against the gravitas the historical figure demands. Even so, he rises to the challenge, capturing the inner steel of a commander leading his men into a battle he understands may be their final stand. His Major Singh is not larger-than-life; instead, he is grounded, human, and relatable—qualities that make his eventual sacrifice all the more poignant.

One of the film’s most powerful sequences draws subtle inspiration from Javed Akhtar’s Sandese Aate Hain from Border (1997), invoking nostalgia without relying on it. The moment works as a bridge between the past and present of Indian war cinema, reminding audiences that while battles change, the longing and love for home remain universal among soldiers.

A Legacy Carved in Snow and Sacrifice
The supporting cast delivers commendable performances that flesh out the world surrounding Major Singh. Vivan Bhatena, Ankit Siwach, Dhanveer Singh, Sahib Verma, and Sparsh Walia each bring distinct textures to the ensemble of soldiers. Ajinkya Deo as Brigadier T.N. Raina and Eijaz Khan as Lieutenant Colonel H.S. Dhingra strengthen the film with their authoritative presence, while Ashutosh Shukla contributes effectively in a key role. Amitabh Bachchan’s narration, deep and resonant, lends the film a solemnity befitting its subject matter.

What sets 120 Bahadur apart from many contemporary war dramas is its refusal to indulge in excessive nationalism. While its patriotic fervour is undeniable, it remains grounded in depicting war as a tragedy rather than a spectacle. The film acknowledges the paradox at the heart of all war stories: heroism exists because loss is inevitable. Each life given in the service of the nation becomes a reminder of the steep price of freedom. In its closing act, as the camera surveys the fallen at Rezang La, this contradiction becomes heartbreakingly clear.

By the time the credits roll, the viewer is left with more than admiration; there is a lingering sense of duty to remember. With its attention to historical detail and commitment to emotional authenticity, 120 Bahadur emerges as more than a retelling of a famous battle. It becomes a cinematic memorial to men whose courage deserves permanence in the country’s collective consciousness. The film urges its audience to look beyond the glamour of military victory and confront the truth that genuine patriotism lies not in loud declarations, but in acknowledging the sacrifices made quietly, often without recognition.

In its finest moments, 120 Bahadur stands shoulder to shoulder with the great war films of world cinema. It transcends borders, speaking to the universal themes of loyalty, honour, and the heart-breaking cost of conflict. Through its portrayal of Major Shaitan Singh and his men, the film restores dignity to a chapter of history too long overshadowed. It insists, with quiet power, that these 120 soldiers be remembered—not merely as martyrs, but as symbols of unwavering courage.

Ultimately, 120 Bahadur is not just a film; it is an act of remembrance. It calls upon each generation to revisit stories of sacrifice that define a nation’s character. In doing so, it ensures that the legacy of Rezang La will endure—etched not only in military archives, but in the hearts of those who witness its retelling.