Sitaare Zameen Par Review | When The Lesson Turns Back On The Teacher

Setting these disclaimers aside, the film promises to follow the familiar blueprint of Aamir’s previous ventures. The storytelling suffers, but never loudly enough to disrupt the viewing experience—much like Laapataa Ladies (2023) or Superboys of Malegaon (2025). Make no mistake, these are commendable films, yet here Aamir does not venture into truly uncharted territory; rather, he bares himself openly, only this time, he is the “sitara”. In doing so, he attempts to prove why he continues to be one of the finest producers operating in an industry, which has been creatively lulled into inertia.

To bring one’s insecurity into the plot of a film, to be made fun of, yet own it, is something Aamir manages to pull off. There are countless jokes—both within the film and beyond—where Aamir falls short. And yet, he offers himself up willingly, as the butt of the joke (There’s a butt joke in the film too, but let’s keep that for later).

Aamir plays Gulshan Arora, a tough, emotionally avoidant junior basketball coach, shaped by a Delhi that gifted him arrogance, rage, frustration—and of course, a heart. He is emblematic of the “he’s not angry, he’s just passionate” sportsman archetype. As a coach, Gulshan is acutely aware of his calibre, but his intolerance for even a hint of disrespect becomes his undoing. In a surreal twist of cinematic self-reference, Khan breaks into a reprise of “Bhaag Bhaag DK Bose” from his own production Delhi Belly (2011). Similar to Tashi (Imraan Khan), a drunk Gulshan hurtles through a car chase sequence, the anthem blaring behind him. It’s self-referential, almost indulgent, but in that moment, strangely effective.

Khan is supported by a lively and energetic cast of ten, united by a court-appointed corrective measure that irrevocably binds their fates. Reminiscent of the now-iconic Abhijeet Bhattacharya troll comment, Gulshan’s senior coach Paswan ji (Deepraj Rana) bluntly declares, “Aap coach bohot ache ho par aadmi suar ho.” Gulshan is deliberately written as an unlikeable man—this is his burden and the path he must traverse to evolve.

Like sugar that requires stirring to dissolve and impart its sweetness to tea, the unlikely team initially struggles to find harmony, fractured by early hiccups and resistance. Gulshan is immediately met with disdain, as one teammate, Sharmaji (Rishi Shahani), bluntly remarks, “Naya coach gadha hai!” He is the very antithesis of the sweetness and resolution he so desperately seeks—standing instead on the other side of vulnerability and the death of his ego. Meanwhile, a rift festers between Gulshan and his wife Sunita (Genelia D’souza), a tension only fully unveiled later in the narrative. Genelia—whose bubbly and fierce Aditi in another Aamir production, Jaane Tu… Ya Jaane Na (2008), remains memorable—here shares with Aamir a chemistry that is not only lacking but distinctly unsavory.

The noteworthy aspect of Sitaare Zameen Par lies in its relentless attempt to avoid becoming a savior narrative—a feat it manages to conceal for a while, but ultimately falters at. For instance, there’s a scene where Preeto (Dolly Ahluwalia), Gulshan’s mother recounts his childhood, reminding him how she once fought his coach to let him pursue basketball despite him being short, declaring, “Someone has to fight for the people who are different.” And now, that someone is Gulshan, resolved to coach a chaotic yet lovable team of ten through various basketball tournaments.

Unlike Ram Nikumbh in Taare Zameen Par (2007), Gulshan is neither as sensitive nor as internally balanced in his approach toward his students, though the same dogged persistence remains. Nikumbh, as an art teacher, embodies empathy and likability—almost a knight in shining armor, but it is Darsheel Safary’s Ishaan, who is granted enough dignity and focus to reclaim the film from Aamir, outshining him with quiet authority. This, precisely, is what makes Taare Zameen Par an unequivocal success deserving of all its acclaim. Sitaare Zameen Par, though, doesn’t quite manage to let the others outshine Aamir.

Despite being first-time actors, the cast is an absolute delight on screen. They are neurodivergent both in life and performance, and their quirks are written so as to own their personalities with pride. Yet, not every moment feels earned. Some instances are framed as comic relief, drawn from Gulshan’s biases, and not all of them sit right. Sitaare Zameen Par is deeply invested in Gulshan’s uninspired coaching arc—a personal crisis thinly disguised as a team story. The film’s heart is unmistakably in the right place, though one cannot help but wonder—Is Aamir the real “sitara” in this story?

Covering every character’s backstory with the song “Good for Nothing” by Amitabh Bhattacharya and Shankar–Ehsaan–Loy, the film leans into lazy exposition at several points. Kartar Paaji (Gurpal Singh) is reduced to the archetype of the protagonist’s wise elder—a man tasked not only with guiding Gulshan inward but also bearing the emotional labour of educating the viewer. The title itself, “Sabka Apna Apna Normal”, insists on tolerance, reiterating the need to stay open to those who don’t look, speak, feel, act, or think like us. And in doing so, it gestures kindly—if a little fleetingly—towards the often-unseen realm of “invisible” disabilities, particularly through Hargovind (Naman Misra), reminding us that everyone moves through their own spectrum of ability in ways that aren’t always visible, but no less real. Sitaare Zameen Par is witty in parts—sometimes absurd, sometimes sharply timed. These moments shimmer briefly, self-aware yet chaotic, holding the film’s humour together like a delicate thread.

In the many instances where Gulshan scratches his head, out of frustration, shyness, or something in between—emerges an Aamir who seems to carry a quiet, but evident sense of responsibility and passion for the story he’s chosen to tell. The film touches on phobias too, framing them not as dramatic obstacles but as intimate fears that can be softened with the right support. Aamir’s own claustrophobia—his fear of lifts and what could go wrong inside them—is mirrored in Guddu’s fear of drowning. Together, they nudge each other toward courage in a way that feels understated, almost tender—offering a glimpse into the film’s emotional intent, even when the craft itself falters.

The flaw in storytelling lingers throughout, but reveals itself most plainly when the final conflict emerges. It feels lazy, convenient, underwhelming, and too neat an obstacle, placed there just to bring Sunita and Gulshan closer. Sunita, the ever-patient wife who loves her husband a little too much despite his endless annoyances, listens, sighs, and rolls her eyes—sometimes all at once.

What doesn’t sit right with me, though, is the film’s perspective on parenthood. While Sunita and Gulshan are at odds, Sitaare… frames the debate in a way that demands justification for opting out, rather than honouring it as a personal, private choice. Parenthood is not something one should be guilted into, nor a milestone to be reached simply because one has “grown up.” Gulshan’s refusal hinges oddly on a fear of raising an “intellectually disabled kid”—a concern voiced conveniently before he even meets the team. The reasoning feels too constructed, too neat. Sometimes, a person just doesn’t want children. That should be reason enough. There was no need for an entire narrative arc and ensemble cast to subtly convince him otherwise.

Sitaare Zameen Par is undeniably a crowd-pleaser, yet it lacks the sustained ethos and wit needed to fully justify its storytelling. Amidst the team he seeks to uplift, Aamir remains a distinct presence—perhaps inevitably so for Aamir Khan Productions. Still, it is genuinely refreshing to witness neurodivergent actors inhabiting their roles with such effortless authenticity. In the end, alongside bringing brilliant actors to the forefront, Sitaare Zameen Par succeeds in making theatres both cry and laugh—and perhaps, that is its victory, and nothing more.