There’s no denying Karthik Subbaraj’s audacity. He’s among the rare Tamil filmmakers who flirt with genre conventions, twist narrative structures, and consistently chase high-concept ideas. Retro, marketed under the banner of Love – Laughter – War, promised an introspective journey backed by action, myth, and romance. Yet, despite its thematic richness and visual brilliance, this romantic-action hybrid ends up as a frustratingly muddled tale that strains under its own narrative heft.
At its heart is Paarivel “Paari” Kannan, an orphan with a scar reminiscent of Lord Krishna’s peacock feather, played with commanding energy by Suriya. Raised by the fearsome gangster Thilakan (a terrific Joju George), Paari grows into a brooding yet morally conflicted warrior torn between two worlds: his adopted father’s crime empire and the peaceful love offered by Rukmini (Pooja Hegde, sincere but underwritten).
Karthik Subbaraj starts Retro on solid ground, even delivering a mesmerizing 15-minute single-take sequence early in the film that blends music, action, and emotion. The initial segments, particularly ‘Love’ and ‘Laughter’, show promise, offering mythological undertones, emotional tension, and a genuinely engaging romance arc. It’s when the film attempts to evolve into an allegorical war against political oppression in the Andamans that it veers off-course—narratively and tonally.
The screenplay lurches from intimate emotional beats to arena-style gladiator fights and quasi-political commentary. A cartoonish villain, an incongruous item number, and metaphors stacked on top of metaphors dilute whatever emotional momentum the story once had. While the Krishna-Buddha philosophical clash offers intellectual intrigue, it’s drowned in an overcooked stew of thematic ambition.
Suriya, however, remains the anchor. His portrayal of Paari is layered, evocative, and physically commanding. He seamlessly transitions between the gentle lover, the tormented son, and the mythical savior. His charisma and physicality lift even the dullest moments. But not even he can salvage a second half that’s stretched thin with undercooked subplots, symbolic excess, and jarring tonal shifts.
Santhosh Narayanan’s score is another redeeming feature, adding soul and verve to key scenes. Cinematographer Shreyaas Krishna delivers a few stunning frames, particularly the bioluminescent sea-fight sequence, but even the film’s technical finesse can’t compensate for the faltering storytelling.
Where Retro falters is in its post-interval pacing, which slows considerably and disrupts the narrative flow. Rukmini’s character, intended to serve as Paari’s moral compass, remains underdeveloped, leaving her arc emotionally unconvincing. Additionally, the film veers off into too many narrative tangents, diluting the impact of the central conflict. Its allegorical and mythological layers, while ambitious, are over-explained instead of being subtly woven into the storytelling, making them feel didactic rather than immersive.
Verdict
Retro is what happens when a filmmaker with a grand vision loses the plot—quite literally. It begins with poetic intent and visual flair but falls into the trap of over-explanation and self-indulgence. For all its philosophical musings and political aspirations, the film ends up feeling more bloated than bold. Suriya’s compelling performance may draw fans, but for most, Retro will feel like a missed opportunity that promised a journey but lost its way.
CINEMA SPICE RATING: ★★☆☆☆ (2/5)