Maidaan, released on April 11, 2024, is a biographical sports drama that swings for the fences with a compelling true story but ends up as a middling affair—one that’s decent enough to watch but not memorable enough to pack theaters. Ajay Devgn stars as Syed Abdul Rahim, the legendary coach who transformed Indian football into an Asian powerhouse during the 1950s and 60s, leading the team to gold at the 1951 and 1962 Asian Games. It’s a tale of grit, underdog triumph, and quiet heroism, brought to life with a hefty ₹200 crore budget. On paper, it’s got all the makings of a crowd-pleaser, yet it stumbled at the box office, grossing just ₹68 crore worldwide—a flop that’s left many scratching their heads.

Devgn is the film’s steady heartbeat, playing Rahim with a restrained dignity that’s become his signature. He’s not flashy, but he’s effective, carrying the weight of a visionary battling bureaucracy and personal loss with soulful eyes and a measured tone. The footballers—Chaitanya Sharma as P.K. Banerjee, Amartya Ray as Chuni Goswami, and others—bring energy to the field, their camaraderie a highlight. Priyamani, as Rahim’s wife Saira, adds warmth in her limited role, while Gajraj Rao’s scheming journalist Roy Choudhary is a standout, oozing petty malice. The cast does its job, and the story—a slice of forgotten Indian sports history—has real meat to it, with Rahim’s quest to build a barefoot team into champions offering plenty of emotional hooks.

The production shines where it counts. The football matches are a visual treat—shot with sweeping pans and gritty realism by Tushar Kanti Roy and Fyodor Lyass, they capture the sweat and stakes of the game. A.R. Rahman’s score stirs the soul, especially in the climactic 1962 Jakarta sequence, which turns the theater into a stadium for a thrilling hour. Director Sharma keeps the sports bits taut, and the period details—1950s costumes, muddy pitches—lend authenticity. It’s a film that looks and feels big, and when it’s on the field, it delivers.

But Maidaan trips off the pitch. The script, juggling Rahim’s personal struggles and the federation’s politics, often feels like it’s jogging in place. At 181 minutes, it’s a long haul, and the first half drags with slow pacing and melodramatic detours—family scenes that don’t land, rivalries that feel cartoonish. The writing leans too hard on exposition, spelling out themes instead of letting them breathe, and it lacks the punchy dialogue or tight editing that made Chak De! India a classic. It’s not bad—just uninspired, a good story told in a way that’s too safe to ignite.

So why did it flop? The numbers are grim: ₹52 crore net in India, a far cry from recovering its massive budget. For one, the buzz fizzled—years of delays (from 2019 to 2024, thanks to COVID and cyclones) dulled its hype, and the marketing didn’t recapture the lost momentum. Clashing with Bade Miyan Chote Miyan on Eid didn’t help either; though the Akshay-Tiger starrer tanked too, it split the holiday crowd. Sports dramas have been hit-or-miss lately—83 and Jhund also underperformed despite praise—and Maidaan’s three-hour runtime likely scared off casual viewers craving snappier fare. Add a niche urban appeal that didn’t hook mass centers, and you’ve got a recipe for empty seats, despite glowing reviews (it sits at 64% on Rotten Tomatoes).

Maidaan is a 3 out of 5 stars effort—perfectly fine, with a strong story and some rousing moments, but not the knockout it could’ve been. It’s a film you’ll enjoy if you catch it on OTT (it’s on Prime now), but its theatrical failure stings. Good intent and a big swing weren’t enough to overcome a bloated script, bad timing, and a genre that’s lost its scoring touch with audiences. Rahim’s legacy deserved better—not just onscreen, but at the ticket counter too.3