"Sarkeet" Review: Asif Ali’s Heartfelt Performance & Thamar’s Story Of Two Souls, One Emotional Bond
Thamar has steadily proven his talent as a storyteller, starting with his acclaimed debut 1001 Nunakal in 2022. He followed it up by producing the award-winning Feminichi Fathima, and now returns with Sarkeet.
Spoiler Alert
The film opens with a birthday celebration, vibrant, noisy, and seemingly warm, directed by Thamar and produced by Vinayak Ajith Dominic, introducing us to young Jeppu (Orhan Hyder), the boy who upends it all by hurling the birthday cake in a fit of joy or defiance, we don’t know yet.
Jeppu is a child bursting with restless energy, struggling to fit into a world that feels too rigid for someone living with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).
His parents, Balu (Deepak Parambol), a bank employee, and Stephy (Divya Prabha), a nurse working gruelling shifts, are teetering on the edge of exhaustion.
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Their once-bright love is now clouded with the fatigue of caretaking, missed sleep, and endless tantrums. Still, they care and try, though the edges are fraying.
Then enters Ameer (Asif Ali), an educated expat in the Gulf with stars in his eyes and failure nipping at his heels.
He goes from interview to interview, reduced to pasting massage parlour flyers and dodging threats from roommates who bully and extort him. His portrayal is painfully relatable for anyone who has ever felt forgotten despite doing everything right.
In Jeppu, there are truly touching sequences, like when Jeppu “frees the fish,” breaking the aquarium. This moment, deceptively simple, strikes deeply, a child trying to liberate what he thinks is confined, unaware of the consequences.
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Ameer’s confrontation with his roommates, where he’s falsely accused of theft, showcases Asif Ali at his finest. The helplessness, the choking frustration — it’s brutal.
However, Ameer’s path crosses Jeppu’s in the most unusual circumstances: a desperate break-in, a spilt toy, and a tub of superglue.
What begins as an act of theft transforms into a makeshift bond. Ameer, literally stuck to Jeppu, is forced to navigate the boy’s unpredictable energy, and through it, something in him softens. The boy, in return, finds what he lacked: undivided attention and patience.
Together, they go to the hospital to remove the glue, play by the beach, and exchange stories, two lonely souls drifting in different directions, momentarily anchored to one another.
The beach sequence, where the gum finally loosens their hands but not their connection, is a cinematic high point, delicate, cathartic, and filled with unsaid words.
The monologue where Ameer tells Jeppu a story about a king and a bird, almost as if rewriting his own story with a happier ending, is profoundly moving.
Thamar’s storytelling feels more confident here. His camera lingers just long enough to capture discomfort but pulls back before melodrama creeps in. The pacing, however, slightly lags in the middle, particularly during some repetitive family squabbles. Yet the narrative earns its beats, and there’s little excess.
Meanwhile, Balu and Stephy spiral. There’s a chilling sequence where they consider abortion upon discovering Stephy’s second pregnancy, out of despair.
This is where the film truly hits its mark, showcasing how children with special needs can silently dismantle the strongest of relationships if support systems don’t exist. The couple’s breakdown feels raw and unfiltered, yet deeply humane.
Stephy’s breakdown upon discovering her pregnancy is a deeply affecting moment. Divya Prabha delivers one of her most emotionally charged performances. Yet, the film doesn’t fully allow this moment, or Deepak Parambol’s equally powerful portrayal of quiet anguish, the space they deserve to fully resonate. Alexander Prasad also makes a noteworthy contribution.
Music is minimal, letting ambient city fill the emotional voids by Govind Vasantha. Cinematography by Aeyaz captures the emotional heat of cramped domestic spaces.
The idea of a stranger entering someone’s life and shifting a parent’s perspective isn’t new, but in Sarkeet, Thamar captures it in its rawest, most stripped-down form, unfolding over just a single day.
While the climax may not aim for grandeur or resolution, it still manages to touch the heart with its quiet honesty.
Much of that emotional weight rests on Asif Ali, whose nuanced, deeply empathetic performance brings a quiet storm of vulnerability and depth to the film’s emotional core.
Sarkeet doesn’t offer easy answers. There are no grand epiphanies or triumphant endings. But that’s precisely its strength.
It understands that life, especially for people with mental health struggles or those marginalised by the economy, is about surviving each day, not conquering it.
What stays with you isn’t resolution but recognition — of the parent who yells and then regrets, of the man who dreams and then begs, and of a child who simply wants someone to sit still and listen.
Timeline Verdict:
Sarkeet is not perfect, but it is honest. It is the kind of film that doesn’t shout its message but lets it sink into your skin. A small film with a big soul, a good watch, nothing much, but touches the heart.
