Dacoit Review | Adivi Sesh, Mrunal Thakur's Love Story Gets Lost In Its Own Chaos

Dacoit, directed by Shaneil Deo and co-written by Adivi Sesh and Shaneil Deo, at first feels urgent, even necessary. It’s a love story fractured by caste, set against the bleakness of the COVID years, layered with crime and desperation. Though this is a film that should have hit you hard, it never quite does. You can see what it's trying to say, but it just doesn't land the way it should.

The film opens with Haridas (Adivi Sesh), a man from a Dalit community in Madanapalle, who falls in love with Saraswathi (Mrunal Thakur). She belongs to an upper-caste, affluent family and the relationship is doomed from the start. The film establishes this quickly, almost too quickly. Within minutes, love turns into separation and a betrayal lands Haridas in prison.

Years later, during the COVID crisis, he escapes and plans a robbery to fund his escape abroad. Saraswathi re-enters his life, now married and with a child, struggling to arrange money for her husband's medical emergency. Their past resurfaces as they are forced into a tense collaboration. The film centres on this dynamic, asking whether love, guilt or revenge will ultimately define their choices.

The premise is strong. The execution is where things begin to fall apart.

The storytelling feels scattered for most of its runtime. The first half moves in fragments, jumping between timelines, backstories and the present-day heist. Instead of building tension, it dilutes it. You are constantly being pulled in different directions without a clear emotional anchor. The film wants you to invest in the relationship, but it does not spend enough time making that relationship feel real.

This becomes a recurring issue. The emotional core, which should have been the backbone of the film, feels underdeveloped. The love story is rushed, the betrayal lacks weight and the reunion feels more functional than affecting. As a result, the film struggles to work, whether as a romance or a crime drama.

The second half does show some improvement. The narrative begins to weave its threads together, and there is a clearer sense of progression. The final stretch—particularly the last 20 minutes—stands out. It is sharper, more focused and finally carries a sense of consequence. For a brief moment, the film finds its footing. But it comes too late to fully redeem what precedes it.

Sesh approaches Haridas with visible commitment. He adopts the dialect and attempts to ground the character in a specific social reality. However, his screen presence remains too polished for the role. There is a disconnect between the character's lived experience and the way it is performed. You see the effort, but you do not fully believe it.

Thakur delivers a more convincing performance. She brings emotional sincerity to Saraswathi, especially in the latter half, when the character has more space. Her portrayal of a woman caught between past love and present responsibility feels more grounded than the film around her.

The supporting cast is largely wasted. Prakash Raj appears in a role that feels underwritten and inconsequential. Sunil Varma and others have little to do. Atul Kulkarni's character is particularly disappointing, existing without any real depth or purpose. Anurag Kashyap, playing a police officer, seems to aim for a slightly offbeat tone, but it does not land. The character feels tonally out of place and the attempts at humour fall flat.

Where Dacoit does hold its ground is in its technical craft. The cinematography captures the setting's mood well, especially during the COVID portions. The sense of scarcity, the tension within hospital spaces and the desperation of that time come through effectively. The film's depiction of medical systems, including the misuse of money and the chaos within hospitals, feels disturbingly real. The background score is another strong point. It consistently elevates scenes, adding tension and emotional weight where the writing falls short. The sound design, particularly in how it builds atmosphere, works in the film's favour.

Thematically, the film does attempt to engage with important issues. The caste divide and the idea of forbidden love are presented without dilution. The violence faced by women is not softened. These elements are acknowledged directly and there is value in that honesty. But the problem lies in how they are integrated into the narrative. They remain ideas rather than fully realised threads.

At its core, the writing lets the film down. Too much of the plot feels forced, with things happening because they need to, not because the characters drive them there. It becomes hard to buy into key moments and the emotions never quite hit the way they're meant to. That said, it's not a complete miss. There are glimpses of a better film, especially towards the end and the technical work does hold it together in parts. But overall, it feels like it's trying for something bigger without ever fully getting there.