The third installment of the Sardaar Ji franchise arrives wrapped in a swirl of political drama and cinematic nostalgia — and yet, somewhere beneath its glossy exterior, Sardaar Ji 3 forgets to dig deeper. Directed by Amar Hundal and headlined by Punjabi powerhouse Diljit Dosanjh, this supernatural comedy aims to deliver laughs, love, and a hint of cross-border warmth. But while the premise is rich with potential, the execution remains frustratingly surface-level.
🌍 A Film That Crosses Borders — Literally, Not Creatively
Banned in its native India due to its leading lady Hania Aamir being Pakistani, Sardaar Ji 3 has found unexpected sanctuary in Pakistani cinemas — ironically, a country that had earlier banned Indian films. This curious reversal speaks to cinema’s power to defy borders and bring communities — especially the Punjabi diaspora — together through shared stories, music, and humour.
But Sardaar Ji 3 doesn’t quite rise to the occasion. It attempts to build on the eccentric legacy of ghostbuster Jaggi (Dosanjh) with yet another adventure featuring supernatural chaos, mistaken identities, and a romance that straddles national lines. Unfortunately, the result is more chaotic than captivating.
🤹♂️ Hauntingly Hilarious or Horribly Hollow?
The film introduces a grand new ghost — or rather, a decomposing twin brother preserved in a wooden box for years (yes, really) — and blends this horror setup with its usual buffet of slapstick and silliness. The horror-comedy hybrid is ambitious, but the mix ends up undercutting both genres. Scary never gets scary, and funny often feels forced.
The core themes — love beyond borders, karma, identity, and legacy — are compelling in theory but get lost in a sea of overacted gags and exaggerated caricatures. The film gestures toward righteousness over pragmatism and hints at emotional and spiritual growth, but rarely sticks with those threads long enough to say anything meaningful.
⭐ Hania Aamir Steals the Spotlight
If there’s one breath of fresh air, it’s Hania Aamir, making her debut in Indian-Punjabi cinema. Dazzling in every frame, she brings charm, confidence, and undeniable star power. Her screen presence and expressive flair light up every song sequence — although her patchy Punjabi diction, sometimes masked with dubbing, is a noticeable hiccup in an otherwise radiant performance.
🌀 Diljit Dosanjh: Riding the Same Wave Too Long
Diljit’s Jaggi remains energetic and likeable, but his performance feels like a rerun. The same slapstick, the same comic beats, the same over-the-top expressions — charming once, but increasingly tiresome. It’s less performance, more autopilot. Sardaar Ji 3 exposes a sobering truth: Diljit is at risk of being typecast in the very persona he created. His fans may still cheer, but even they must feel the repetition creeping in.
👻 Neeru Bajwa: Ghosting with Grace
Returning as Pinky — a ghost with a golden heart — Neeru Bajwa brings a measured maturity to the madcap proceedings. While sidelined in terms of narrative weight, her performance adds emotional credibility. Her character’s quiet sacrifice and steady presence offer some of the film’s few sincere moments, even if they’re buried under layers of farce.
🎶 Music, Melodies & Missed Opportunities
The songs are vibrant, with stunning visuals and infectious rhythms — the perfect recipe for cinematic escapism. But much like the film itself, the music feels more like a playlist than a story tool. It entertains but doesn’t evolve the plot. Only a few lyrical moments attempt spiritual or emotional resonance, including a fleeting reference to Sikh scripture — a gesture toward depth that the film never fully commits to.
📝 Final Verdict: A Laugh, a Groan, and a Shrug
Sardaar Ji 3 is confectionary cinema — sweet, colourful, and designed for mass appeal. But like cotton candy, it melts away without leaving much behind. Beneath its cross-border novelty and supernatural flair lies a formulaic film afraid to grow up. It coasts on Diljit’s brand, sparkles with Hania’s freshness, and banks on nostalgia — all while sidestepping narrative growth or emotional heft.
There’s joy in its absurdity, sure. But joy without depth gets old fast.
Rating: 2.5/5
✨ Watch it for Hania, the music, and a few laughs — but don’t expect anything beyond déjà vu dressed in designer jackets.
