Mani Ratnam is a man of his word when he says that more than maintaining political correctness, he believes in nurturing an authenticity in storytelling that isn’t constrained by perceived judgment. Though several of his films like Roja (1992), Ponniyin Selvan I & II (2022-2023), Iruvar (1997) and Guru (2007) stand out, his collaboration with Kamal Hassan almost thirty-eight years ago in Nayakan (1987) is peculiarly well-loved as a cult classic film by cinephiles and masses alike. Starring Kamal Haasan, Saranya and Karthika, Nayakan is a tale of what it means to have power or to lose it—while morality hangs over one’s head as a loose kite with sharp strings. Sakthivel Velu Naicker is played by Kamal Haasan in both films. At first glance, it seems to be a sequel. Yet, Mani Ratnam enunciates that his latest film Thug Life belongs to the same genre as Nayakan, almost as a distant cousin, but entirely different in its approach.
Thug Life Review | A Visual Spectacle With A Promising Premise Fails To Live Up To Its Predecessor
For all its ambition, Thug Life stretches its core idea till it snaps and neither Ratnam’s visual flair nor Kamal’s mythic presence can save it. Still, there are embers of immense potential that flicker.
Thug Life reprises a younger, clean-shaven Kamal Hassan visually similar to Naicker in Nayakan in a gripping, cinematically impressive black-and-white fight sequence that feels nothing short of pure Mani Ratnam magic. While this hat-tip to the prior film within the first few minutes sets a premise for high expectations, it swerves off the edge with underutilised characters, out-of-sync emotional connection between music and plot, and predictably formulaic storytelling. While formulas aren’t always a bad thing, they seem to underestimate the audience’s imagination. Tropes may predict, but don’t always ensure success. With viewers having to go through the labour of already predicting the stories, that surpass even the stardom and grandiose nature of the superstars in it, it must mean a huge gap in expectations and its delivery.
Shot in Delhi, Goa and Nepal, Thug Life does not shy away from setting up its massive scale, whether it is with set design or the weight of the conflicts themselves. At the heart of its story lies a father-son duo—Sakthivel, played by Kamal Haasan, who in a black-and-white flashback of 1994 Delhi, rescues a young boy, Amaran, played by the excellent Silambarasan. While the conflict majorly surrounds their mistrust of one another through the whispers of doubt planted by others, the visually grand spectacle of Thug Life persistently asks, how does a man manage to cheat death so many times, and why?
The film’s very first lines depict Sakthivel saying how the lord of death is very fond of him. That sentence alone becomes a thematic refrain—of a man who evades the inevitable not just physically but morally, too. And while the premise of cheating is still on the page, Sakthivel is a deeply interesting and flawed character who never claims to be saintly. He is allowed to preach about loyalty while himself stumbling deep in infidelity—juggling his affections between his wife Jeeva (Abhirami) and Indrani (Trisha Krishnan). Despite that, there isn’t much nuance to sympathise or connect with him due to the lack of complexity. The outline exists—charisma, contradictions, and a haunted past—yet, the emotional musculature remains underdeveloped.
From a visual standpoint, Thug Life (2025) is undeniably a dream—gritty, yet poetic. Ravi K. Chandran’s cinematography bathes Mani Ratnam’s universe in grimy blues and greys, setting the tension against hauntingly tactile locations that reward the eye with texture and depth. Close-ups of Kamal Haasan’s eyes during moments of grief seem to carry decades of buried emotion, layered with loss, power, and restrained violence. Even so, the illusion frays at the edges with the occasional jarring CGI that doesn’t quite sit within the otherwise tangible world.
Mani Ratnam’s love for action cinema shines through as he perceives the big screen to be the appropriate medium for fast-paced sound and visuals. The plot’s trajectory though, is uneven. The first half undeniably delivers a promising return to Ratnam’s signature control, where intense drama, tension, sound and framing interplay with almost architectural precision. But the edit quickly becomes erratic. Unlike the cross-cutting and parallel narratives in Roja (1992) or Bombay (1995), Thug Life rushes past mood. The camera doesn’t linger long enough for the audience to feel. The background score too rarely syncs with the emotional undercurrents it’s meant to elevate. Mani Ratnam teamed up with AR Rahman first in Roja (1992) and after several years of continued creative collaboration, still believes in the music as a narrative muscle, not a decorative interlude. But unlike the heartbreak-laden choreography of “Satrangi Re” from Dil Se…(1998), songs like “Sugar Baby”, “Jinguachaa” or “Vinveli Nayaga” feel more like a patchwork than a pulse.
As for the cast, the tragedy lies not in who performs, but in who is denied the space. Ali Fazal—an unexpected yet welcome addition—imbues his role with a quiet menace, only to fizzle out too soon. Rajshri Deshpande offers little more than a handful of wordless frames and carries herself with the silent dignity of a woman in exile. Joju George is reduced to caricature, as is Bhagavathi Perumal. Ashok Selvan, as the cop, barely manages to hold narrative ground. Aishwarya Lekshmi arrives as if late to her own story, scrambling for a foothold, but finding none. It is only fitting that Ratnam leans heavily on the pre-established chemistry of Kamal–Abhirami and Silambarasan–Trisha, because if those actors were to be replaced, the already-thin relational scaffolding would collapse altogether.
Trisha, a frequent collaborator of Mani Ratnam, is cast here in a role that feels discomfitingly submissive, portraying a woman wholly devoted to a significantly older man. Her character remains underwritten and underutilised, like Abhirami’s or even Aishwarya Lekshmi’s, which speaks to a broader pattern in mainstream cinema, where women’s roles often feel ornamental. The tension between Sakthivel and Jeeva becomes difficult to invest in, particularly given the film’s simultaneous portrayal of him as both a womaniser and a remorseful patriarch. The recurring industry tendency to cast significantly younger women opposite ageing male leads continues here, raising uncomfortable questions about gendered representation and cinematic realism.
Post-interval, the film plummets, lurching awkwardly as the dialogue-heavy screenplay strains under the weight of its ambitions. And that becomes its central ache. This is a film that tries to be many things: an epic, a moodboard, a myth, a family drama. The complex dynamics of kinship and loyalty are undercut by shallow emotional stakes. The father-son thread between Silambarasan and Kamal had the potential to ground the film emotionally, but it’s diluted by the overpopulation of subplots. Ratnam may have envisioned a sprawling operatic world, but the execution is overcrowded. Every time Sakthivel is laid low, he returns with renewed vigour—but the narrative never quite catches up to this relentlessness, making it feel mechanical rather than heroic.
For all its ambition, Thug Life stretches its core idea till it snaps and neither Ratnam’s visual flair nor Kamal’s mythic presence can save it. Still, there are embers of immense potential that flicker. Despite its shortcomings, Thug Life endures as a cinematic reunion worth witnessing—steeped in rich legacy. It is neither seamless nor wholly gratifying, suspended in a space between egotism and existential fatigue. The film resists easy classification—neither triumphant nor entirely tragic. For admirers of Kamal Haasan, it offers a familiar, almost reverent spectacle, even if it falls short of becoming the visceral exploration of power and salvation it gestures towards.
Sakshi Salil Chavan is a documentary filmmaker and an entertainment writer based in Mumbai.
