Athiradi

Because of its desperate attempts to appear vibrant and cool, Athiradi compromises on the basics: emotions. While Arun and Paulson could have completely avoided it and made the movie a battle of male egos, the writers have also tried to anchor the narrative emotionally to give it more gravity. However, these moments and plot devices — even Sam’s brother’s recorded speech, which is actually pivotal to the narrative — fail to generate the desired impact and end up feeling quite dull. Even the conflict-building is unimpressive, preventing the rising stakes from truly resonating with the viewer. While the point of no return and the interval block are presented grandly, the build-up to them is shallow, thereby detracting from their overall impact. The lack of depth in the characters, including Sam and Kuttan, worsens the situation, particularly since they display excessive theatrics without meaningful justification for their behaviour. Worse still, the jokes just don’t land at all.

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.