'Thug Life' Review: A legacy ride with Haasan, Ratnam & Rahman that wobbles

Thug Life

in theaters

Rating - *** (3/5)

Cast: Kamal Haasan, Trisha Krishnan, Silambasaran TR, Nassar, Ali Fazal & more

Directed by: Mani Ratnam

What could possibly go wrong You have Kamal Haasan, Mani Ratnam, and A R Rahman—three legends whose mere collaboration should send cinephiles into celebratory convulsions. You add in a sweeping scale, a trail of promising cameos, and cinematic ambition dripping from every frame. What happens then? Well, surprisingly or perhaps tragically, a lot.

Haasan had made a towering and frankly debatable claim in the promotional run-up to Thug Life. At multiple press conferences, he boldly asserted that “you will forget Nayakan once you watch Thug Life.” Audacious? Certainly. But one assumes that a legend of his stature wouldn’t toss such words into the void without having seen something game-changing in the mirror. Turns out Mr. Haasan couldn’t have been more mistaken.

A Film of Grand Promise and Muddled Execution

Let’s set the record straight—Thug Life is not a terrible film. Far from it. It’s just a supremely frustrating one. The core idea has incredible potential. The scale begs for awe. But somehow, it all feels like a lost cause, muddled in tone, disjointed in storytelling, and underwhelming in the very places where it should soar. Its redeeming qualities do exist, but they're so sporadically placed and inconsistently treated that they never really manage to hold things together.

We’re introduced to Kamal Haasan’s character Rangaraya Shaktivel in the opening moments, complete with flowing locks and a devil-may-care aura. He declares, and I paraphrase—“Yamraj and I go way back. I've escaped death countless times. We're friends now.” And little do we know, this isn’t just performative braggadocio. The 165-minute film is littered with scenes where Shaktivel escapes death so frequently, it could be classified as a hobby. And this is exactly where you expect Mani Ratnam, the master of emotional and aesthetic gravitas, to elevate this absurdity into operatic brilliance. To make you suspend disbelief with the finesse of visual poetry. But nope. That leap of faith doesn’t come.

Because unlike, say, Pushpa, where you willingly cheer as Allu Arjun beats men senseless with his teeth, Thug Life doesn’t earn that kind of surrender. The storytelling never becomes absorbing enough to allow for indulgence in spectacle over substance.

Dulquer Salmaan, with his inherent charm and quiet intensity, would’ve elevated Amar into a truly captivating foil. At least that’s how it plays out in one’s imagination, which already feels more compelling than the final product.

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A Godfather Without the Gravitas

At its thematic core, Thug Life is The Godfather-adjacent—only swap out bloodlines for bonds forged by savior complex. It’s not a father-son epic, it’s more like “saved-a-kid-who-then-became-mafia-royalty” kind of arc. And yes, there are stretches in the film where it builds momentum, flirts with intrigue, and threatens to become truly compelling. But each time, just as you lean in, it nosedives into preposterousness again.

There’s a recurring fogginess in the execution. You keep asking yourself: where exactly does it go wrong? And more importantly, why does it go wrong? The biggest allure here, Haasan playing a character in his 70s, embracing his age while kicking butt is only half-explored. His gravitas, his thespian mastery, and his physicality are all hinted at but never channeled with the conviction they deserve. One can’t help but recall how Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Vikram handled this so much better.

The Casting Conundrum: Simbu is No Salmaan

Let’s talk about one of the film’s biggest creative misfires—casting Silambarasan TR (Simbu) as Amar, the prodigal son figure. This is the second-most pivotal role in the film, and it demands an aura that can spar with Kamal Haasan’s mythos. Unfortunately, Simbu’s sincerity feels flat. Earnest? Yes. Memorable? No. The role is heavy-lifting, and Simbu’s interpretation is too feathery.

What makes this even harder to digest is the knowledge that Dulquer Salmaan was originally cast for this role. Salmaan, with his inherent charm and quiet intensity, would’ve elevated Amar into a truly captivating foil. At least that’s how it plays out in one’s imagination, which already feels more compelling than the final product.

When Talent is Wasted in the Name of Reverence

Then comes the most disheartening bit, the side characters. This film is populated with some genuinely strong performers who seem to have boarded this ship solely out of their reverence for Mani Ratnam. And what do they get in return? Arcs so underwhelming that you can barely identify their narrative purpose.

Ali Fazal, Trisha Krishnan, and Rohit Saraf are the biggest casualties. Fazal’s character feels like a Guddu Pandit knockoff from Mirzapur, only this time, his swagger feels forced, unoriginal, and utterly unimpactful. It’s a masterclass in wasted potential.

Krishnan, who delivered magnificently in Ratnam’s Ponniyin Selvan series, must have jumped onboard expecting another powerful role. Maybe it read better on paper. Because what unfolds on screen is a half-baked, chaotic version of Indrani, a character who feels both central and peripheral at the same time. And that’s not a paradox that works in storytelling.

Rohit Saraf fares slightly better. Maybe because the expectations were lower, or maybe because his role, while limited, is executed with genuine commitment. He ends up becoming the accidental lynchpin for a few pivotal developments.

The Mani Ratnam Effect: When Reverence Becomes a Risk

There’s a dangerous trend in films helmed by iconic directors—actors tend to sign on without questioning the narrative architecture. The Mani Ratnam brand carries so much weight that even an underwritten cameo becomes a career milestone. But this right here is a textbook example of how that reverence can turn into cinematic compromise.

Take Sanya Malhotra, for example. She enters, does a dance number, and vanishes. No explanation. No arc. Not even a whisper of narrative necessity. And somehow, that’s just accepted. Because “Hey, it’s Mani Ratnam.”

The A R Rahman Puzzle: Where Did the Magic Go?

Perhaps the biggest heartbreak in Thug Life is A R Rahman. His music is expected to not just elevate but transcend. Instead, it limps. The soundtrack is forgettable. The background score is shockingly inconsequential. It’s as if someone tried to mimic Rahman, and we just got the echo. The maestro, it seems, has either lost his footing here or wasn’t given the space to create magic.

The Lone Beacons of Heart

And yet, Thug Life is not without its heart. The emotional beats, particularly the relationship between Shaktivel and his wife Jeeva (played beautifully by Abhirami)—are quietly magnificent. There’s an understated poetry here. Their arc feels immersive, grounded, and ends with a poignancy that the rest of the film desperately wishes it had.

The film also benefits from moments of humor that provide much-needed relief. And some of the supporting cast, especially Nassar, Aishwarya Lekshmi, and Joju George manage to inject credibility into this mad, mad world.

In the End: A Thug Life Without Nerve or Grit

In conclusion, Thug Life becomes a cautionary tale in more ways than one. It is yet another case of a has-been script dressed up in cinematic finery. This could have been the crowning reunion of two legends—Mani Ratnam and Kamal Haasan. But instead of leaning into the grit and emotional nerve of the narrative, the film drowns itself in scale, overstuffed twists, and a desperate desire to be “epic.”

It’s still entertaining in patches. Haasan doing slick action, even with an obvious body double is fun in a nostalgic way. And yes, someone please tell me where that mysterious monastery is. Because apparently, you can become a martial arts demigod in just under two years. Hell, let’s account for injury recovery, so maybe 1.5 years. Either way, sign me up.

Are you planning to watch Thug Life in cinemas this weekend? Let us know in the comments below.