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Few Hindi film franchises have carved as distinct an identity as Jolly LLB. Subhash Kapoor’s 2013 sleeper hit offered something rare: a courtroom drama that wasn’t just about the law but society. It was sharp, satirical, and unafraid to expose how justice bends under the weight of money and influence. Its 2017 sequel starring Akshay Kumar proved the first was no accident. Kapoor had found a formula that balanced humour, satire, and a strong moral core. Both films made the legal system cinematic and thrilling while also questioning its inefficiencies.
So when Jolly LLB 3 was announced, expectations were immense. The twist — bringing together Arshad Warsi, the original Jolly, and Akshay Kumar, his successor, along with the return of actor Saurabh Shukla as Justice Tripathi — promised fireworks. Two lawyers, two contrasting styles, one courtroom: the idea was tantalising. But what arrives on screen is disappointingly hollow. In its quest to be bigger and more “commercial,” Jolly LLB 3 loses the very thing that made this franchise special — the courtroom drama.
The first two films followed a clear arc: a struggling lawyer — greedy for recognition, eager for success — stumbles upon a case that tests his conscience. Opportunism transforms into a fight for justice. And through it all, the courtroom becomes the stage where morality, law, and wit collide.
In Jolly LLB (2013), Arshad Warsi’s Jagdish Tyagi files a PIL in a hit-and-run case involving a businessman’s son, initially for publicity. When a senior clerk slaps him in disgust, Jolly discovers his conscience and fights the case. The arguments were riveting, with Saurabh Shukla’s unforgettable Justice Tripathi presiding in exasperation that turned into admiration. Warsi’s closing lines — “If footpaths are not to sleep, they are also not meant to drive cars” — and his monologue on the “right to justice” weren’t just dialogue, they were biting social commentary that still resonates.
In Jolly LLB 2 (2017), Akshay Kumar’s Jolly cheats a pregnant widow, driving her to suicide. Wracked with guilt, he takes on her case against a corrupt encounter cop. The tone was darker, the stakes higher, but the essence was the same: fiery courtroom drama that left the audience shaken. Though Akshay didn’t have a monologue as memorable as Warsi’s, the unmasking of a terrorist disguised as a baba had audiences hooked. And how can one forget the strong presence of Annu Kapoor? “Muskuraiye aap Lucknow mein hai!”
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Both films thrived on courtroom intensity. Every “tareekh pe tareekh” mattered; every argument added weight. The tension was organic, the drama earned.
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One is reminded of Manoj Bajpayee’s Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai (2023), which delivered a similarly raw courtroom battle — equal parts wit and moral outrage — culminating in a closing argument so powerful it convinced not just the judge but the audience that the Godman’s crime was unforgivable. That’s the kind of goosebump-inducing intensity one expects from a Jolly LLB.
Jolly LLB 3, in contrast, squanders its premise. The Jollys first bicker over stealing each other’s clients before joining forces against a powerful builder, Haribhai Khaitaan (Gajraj Rao), who dreams of turning Bikaner into Boston. The case touches on land acquisition, agrarian distress, and rural displacement — issues that should have fuelled a gripping legal battle. Instead, the film derails into spectacle: camel races against Formula One cars, Jollys riding camels hand-in-hand in slow motion, and endless detours about who gets more screen time. Warsi, who embodied the underdog spirit, is conveniently injured so Akshay can dominate. Later, in an attempt at overcompensation, Akshay calls him “senior lawyer” and lets him have the last word. But by then, the imbalance is glaring. Ram Kapoor appears as the opposing counsel, yet his role is so underwritten that he barely registers, leaving Haribhai as the film’s only real villain.
And when the hearing ends, Seema Biswas, playing the widow of a farmer driven to suicide, is handed the film’s emotional climax — a long courtroom breakdown, which is more exhausting than moving. Just when the audience expects a closing argument to tie it all together, the film instead ends with a text: “The next time you have a meal, thank a farmer.” Noble sentiment, but it lands like an afterthought.
What stings is the wasted opportunity. India’s farmers have been protesting for years against unfair land acquisition, low crop prices, and corporate exploitation. A courtroom duel between two Jollys on opposite sides of this cause could have been electric. Instead, farmers are reduced to one-note victims and builders to cartoon villains. The messy intersections of policy, politics, and bureaucracy are ignored. The courtroom — the franchise’s real hero — is sidelined for gloss.
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Unlike its predecessors, Kapoor focuses here on glossy shots, stylised sequences, and commercial pacing, sacrificing grit. The rawness that once made the courtroom feel authentic is gone. The film looks polished but feels hollow.
It isn’t entirely unwatchable — Saurabh Shukla gets a few laughs, though even his judge is reduced to Tinder gags. Akshay sparks occasional humour. But these are flashes, not substance. Where the first two films made us lean forward in our seats, hanging on every argument, this one makes us lean back, waiting for the spectacle to end.
In trying to be bigger, Jolly LLB 3 forgets to be better. It forgets that the true hero of this franchise was never Jolly himself, but the courtroom. And here, the courtroom is silent.
