Athiradi is a loud film in every sense of the word. The characters are loud. The music is loud. And with the story unfolding against the backdrop of a campus festival, the ambience is naturally loud too. There’s a restless, crazy energy to the film, driven majorly by editor Chaman Chakko, who steps on the gas every time the narrative threatens to slow down. His flashy, fancy cuts give the film the pace and rhythm of an extended Instagram reel. But that also means Athiradi trades emotional intensity and character depth for spectacle and set pieces, resulting in a shallow yet enjoyable youthful entertainer that still gives enough bang for the buck.
So what makes Drishyam a franchise people love to keep revisiting? The family drama and emotional layers are crucial, but it thrives largely in the clever twists and the high it elicits. Drishyam 3 lacks sorely on that note, with very few moments that would make people go, 'Wow, how on Earth did Georgekutty have that covered?' You can't blame the viewer because that's how the franchise and its numerous iterations have trained its audience for all these years. But to be fair, Jeethu deserves a huge pat on his back for bravely opting for a profound ending, sticking true to Georgekutty’s beautifully evolving arc. Only that the real problem lies in how it is arrived at. Cons of reverse engineering, perhaps.
The real mystery isn’t about solving the case, but rather about figuring out the inner selves of each other by sheer accident, even if it doesn’t necessarily link to the murder. These interactions are messy, raw, and revealing, never losing steam. There is a lived-in quality to the dialogue, to how the ramblings run over each other in a spacious room full of people trying to be heard. The banter sounds real, including the forced incorporation of a few bad jokes because they are better than awkward silences. So many interesting conversations unfold that after a point it ceases to matter who killed Sohrab — yet the mystery remains, simmering underneath and never letting you off the hook. The narrative often risks capsizing while keeping track of too many characters, diluting its own impact as a thriller, but the conversations bring us back each time.
Mana Shankara Vara Prasad Garu is a complete Chiranjeevi film where the star carries the entire narrative on his shoulders. Director Anil Ravipudi delivers a typical commercial entertainer without a strong story or logic. While the first half is engaging, the second half feels dragged and forced.
It reminds us that no matter how loud life becomes, we eventually find ourselves returning to the promises we made to our mothers and the lessons our teachers left behind.
Sharadhaa of The New Indian Express said that "Rakky borrows the language of an underworld drama but speaks the vocabulary of a commercial entertainer.
For an overwhelming “comedy-director” reputation, atleast in Hindi cinema, Priyadarshan builds up the dread better. Some scenes with Vadhusur jump-scaring as soon as the lights go out are done with the deftness of a competent horror filmmaker but they soon become repetitive and thus lose inventiveness. The laughs, however, are laboured with too much reliance on physical comedy than situational humour. Akshay slaps, kicks and loses his shit in a desperate attempt to evoke some giggles. The writing thins out soon and the film becomes a garbled mess borrowing ideas from everywhere be it Lights Out (2016) or Stree 2 (2024).
While it is understandable that the protagonists are accorded the ‘mass’ moments in the film, Subash understands the need for pitting them against all-powerful villains.
