The Reunion We Dreamt Of, But Not the One We Deserved
Thug Life had the makings of an epic. Directed by Mani Ratnam, co-written by Kamal Haasan, and powered by A. R. Rahman’s score, it heralded the long-awaited reunion of two legends after Nayakan (1987). This time, instead of a foster son turned gangster, Haasan plays Rangaraya Sakthivel — a mafia patriarch in New Delhi, driven by power, guilt, and betrayal.
The premise is potent. A feared don raises Amaran (Silambarasan TR), the son of a man his gang inadvertently killed. But decades later, as his empire teeters, Rangaraya must face a coup from within — his own brother Manickam (Nassar), and the very boy he tried to redeem. The narrative promises a Shakespearean tragedy, but settles for a mainstream revenge drama riddled with gangster film clichés.
The story begins in 1994 Old Delhi, amidst the uneasy truce between rival gang lords — Sadanand Yadav and the Rangaraaya brothers, Manickam and Sakthivel. The truce quickly shatters when Sadanand orchestrates a double-cross through a violent police ambush, leading to the tragic death of a newspaper delivery man caught in the crossfire. The man’s two children, Amaran and Chandra, are separated in the chaos.
Moved by guilt and fate, Sakthivel adopts Amaran, raising him as his own and promising to reunite him with his lost sister. Over the next two decades, the bond between the two grows — built on survival, violence, and an unspoken yearning for closure.
In 2016, personal tragedy strikes again when Manickam’s daughter dies due to Sadanand’s manipulative nephew, prompting Amaran and Sakthivel to exact revenge. As old wounds resurface, power dynamics shift. Sakthivel’s authority begins to erode, paranoia creeps in, and betrayal brews within the ranks. Eventually, Amaran, manipulated into believing that Sakthivel killed his father, joins the others to push Sakthivel off a cliff — seemingly to his death.
But Sakthivel survives. After years of exile and healing in the Himalayas, he returns colder, deadlier — and determined to reclaim his life. One by one, he eliminates the conspirators. The final twist comes when Dr. Anna, who has been aiding Sakthivel’s recovery, is revealed to be Chandra, Amaran’s long-lost sister. In a heart-wrenching finale, just as the siblings are about to reunite, fate strikes again. Amaran is fatally shot by Deepak. Sakthivel avenges his death, but his emotional scars deepen.
The film ends on a poetic note: Sakthivel has given up violence and found peace in farming, surrounded by the next generation, as the cycle of violence finally ends.
First Half: A Spark of Mani Ratnam’s Past Glory
The opening hour gives us glimpses of vintage Ratnam — monochrome sequences, emotionally charged silences, and finely tuned performances. A shootout in Old Delhi, a child’s life upended, and a grim adoption sets the tone. The dynamic between Sakthivel, Amaran, and Manickam is compelling; one tense scene involving all three simmers with buried resentment and broken bonds.
A. R. Rahman’s “Anju Vanna Poove” plays like a lament woven into the film’s fabric, enhancing key emotional beats. Ravi K. Chandran’s cinematography is lush and evocative — especially in a beautifully constructed black-and-white sequence that mirrors the grime and grief of the ’90s Delhi underworld.
Second Half: All Guns, No Gravitas
But then, just after intermission, Thug Life abandons its emotional core. Plot developments become jarringly implausible — enemies show up with machetes instead of guns, characters survive injuries that defy logic, and emotional subplots vanish into oblivion. Amaran, meant to be the emotional counterweight to Sakthivel, disappears for long stretches, robbing the narrative of depth.
Trisha’s Indrani — a bar singer turned mistress — is a prime example of underwritten potential. A single expressive scene hints at internal turmoil, but her story is quickly sidelined. Abhirami fares better as Jeeva, Sakthivel’s long-suffering wife, whose quiet strength anchors the don. Their chemistry is subtle, layered, and heartbreakingly believable.
Kamal Haasan’s Performance: A Study in Stoicism and Scars
Kamal Haasan is magnificent. As Rangaraya Sakthivel, he delivers a restrained, introspective, and deeply layered performance that anchors the entire film. Whether portraying the seasoned gangster weighed down by the burden of guilt or the weathered warrior seeking justice, Kamal internalizes the character with a quiet yet commanding force. His grief is etched in his silences, and his compassion is conveyed in the way he continues to protect Amaran — even after betrayal. His performance is not only emotionally resonant but also a masterclass in cinematic maturity.
He excels especially in emotionally potent scenes: Sakthivel’s silent breakdown upon seeing Jeeva’s memory loss, the disbelief and quiet recognition upon discovering Chandra’s true identity, and the heartbreak of Amaran’s death — all of these are rendered with dignified sorrow. Kamal doesn’t oversell emotions; he lets them simmer beneath the surface, creating a far more impactful experience.
His chemistry with Trisha, as Indrani, is particularly intriguing and worth celebrating. Though their relationship is an extra-marital affair, there is unmistakable tenderness and unspoken understanding between them. It is a connection built on solace, not lust — a space where two wounded souls seek companionship. Their brief moments together radiate a subtle warmth, and Trisha’s graceful restraint complements Kamal’s gravitas beautifully. Her tragic death leaves a lingering ache, intensified by Rahman’s mournful score and Kamal’s quiet devastation. It’s a relationship that adds unexpected emotional depth to the narrative, and their bond — however morally ambiguous — is portrayed with dignity, empathy, and poignancy.
An Ensemble of Depth and Dignity
The ensemble cast of Thug Life delivers uniformly compelling performances that lend the film emotional depth and character nuance. Silambarasan TR brings brooding intensity and emotional fragility to Amaran, convincingly charting his journey from a loyal protégé to a tragically misled betrayer. His final moments, filled with remorse and realization, leave a lasting impact. Aishwarya Lekshmi, as Chandra (disguised for most of the film as Dr. Anna), forms the emotional core of the climactic twist — her measured, restrained performance conveys a world of pain and longing without ever tipping into melodrama. Nasser imbues Manickam with a quiet menace and world-weariness, playing the aging don with dignified gravitas.
Abhirami gives a heartbreaking turn as Jeeva, portraying the ravages of trauma with affecting subtlety — her closing moment with young Sakthivel is particularly poignant. The supporting players — Vadivukkarasi, Joju George, Arjun Chidambaram, and Bagavathi Perumal — each add weight to the narrative, enhancing the film’s gritty realism with layered portrayals of power, fear, and betrayal. Even in a limited role, Trisha as Indrani makes a strong impression; her death scene, underscored by A.R. Rahman’s haunting score, delivers one of the film’s most emotionally charged moments.
A.R. Rahman’s Music: The Soul of the Story — Yet Longing for Visual Grandeur
A.R. Rahman’s score in Thug Life is elegiac, immersive, and poetic — serving not just as a background element but as an emotional undercurrent that carries the film through its most intense and intimate moments. From the peppy, festive wedding track “Jinguchaa” to the ethereal and melancholic “Anju Vanna Poove,” Rahman infuses the narrative with his signature magic, using melody and silence with equal mastery. The background score does some of the film’s heaviest emotional lifting — heightening tension during the brutal action stretches, amplifying grief in quieter scenes, and underscoring the film’s haunting sense of loss and betrayal.
One of the most emotionally resonant moments is the climactic reveal of Chandra’s identity — and here, Rahman’s use of near-silence, accented by aching strings, deepens the emotional gravity of the scene without ever overwhelming it. His musical choices are consistently sophisticated, restrained, and narrative-focused — hallmarks of his long collaboration with Mani Ratnam.
However, while the music itself is undeniably beautiful, what deeply disappointed many audience members — particularly ardent fans of Rahman and longtime admirers of Mani Ratnam’s cinema — was the absence of full-fledged visual song sequences. Songs like “Vinveli Nayaga,” “Muththa Mazhai” (in both Dhee and Chinmayi’s haunting renditions), and the jazzy, playful “Sugar Baby” do not appear as standalone visuals on screen. Instead, they are relegated to background montages or ambient soundscapes, robbing the audience of the layered, lyrical visualisation that is so quintessentially Mani Ratnam.
For decades, Mani Ratnam films have been celebrated not just for their songs but for how they are visualised — dreamlike, poetic, grounded in emotion yet rich in imagination. From Roja and Dil Se to Kaatru Veliyidai, his musical sequences have been cinematic events in themselves. In Thug Life, the lack of choreographed or fully visualised songs leaves a noticeable void. The audience is left to listen when they long to see — especially with tracks as evocative and richly produced as these.
It’s a creative choice, no doubt — perhaps aiming to maintain a certain gritty realism — but it feels like a missed opportunity in a film where Rahman’s music could have visually soared. The absence of these moments makes the musical experience feel incomplete, especially for fans who consider Mani-Rahman song sequences as cherished highlights of their collaborative storytelling.
Technical Brilliance Anchored in Visual Grandeur and Editorial Precision
Ravi K. Chandran’s cinematography is nothing short of a visual triumph. He crafts a rich visual tapestry that journeys from the gritty, sepia-toned streets of Old Delhi to the tranquil, snow-draped peaks of Tibet, and into the dimly lit, blood-soaked corridors of the underworld. His use of light and shadow is both lyrical and thematic — subtly conveying emotional undercurrents such as trust, betrayal, redemption, and solitude without the need for dialogue. Each frame is meticulously composed, serving both the story’s scale and its psychological depth.
Anbariv’s action choreography is refreshingly grounded and visceral. Eschewing the polished spectacle of stylized violence, the fights here are raw, intimate, and brutal — reflecting the emotional stakes rather than mere spectacle. Notable sequences include the dimly lit ambush that pulses with suspense, the grim helicopter death of Anburaj which evokes both shock and retribution, the tightly staged roadside car shootout that explodes with tension and kinetic fury, and the final hand-to-hand combat between Sakthivel and Amaran, which plays out more like a cathartic purge than a typical climax — emotionally charged, unflinching, and haunting.
Despite its compelling emotional resonance and cinematic finesse, Thug Life does grapple with structural challenges. Mani Ratnam’s ambitious vision of a sweeping, decades-spanning gangster saga is admirable, yet the sheer scope occasionally becomes its Achilles’ heel. The narrative, laden with political subplots, betrayals, and a rotating cast of secondary players, tends to crowd out the emotional nucleus — the bond between Sakthivel and Amaran, and the promise to find Chandra.
Pacing issues become evident in the film’s midsection, particularly during Sakthivel’s self-imposed exile in the Himalayas. While visually stunning and thematically reflective, these meditative stretches stall the narrative’s urgency and energy. Furthermore, characters like Trisha’s Indrani and Arjun Chidambaram’s Kahlua are introduced with rich potential but lack full narrative payoff, leaving their arcs feeling underserved.
Another shortcoming lies in the occasionally expository nature of the dialogue. Rather than allowing past events and revelations to unfold through character action or visual storytelling, the screenplay sometimes resorts to lengthy explanations — which risks disengaging the viewer, particularly in an otherwise emotionally layered film.
However, A. Sreekar Prasad’s editing is the crucial element that keeps the film structurally intact and emotionally coherent. His skillful weaving of timelines — oscillating between 1994, 2016, and the years following — ensures the viewer remains anchored, even as the story unfolds across continents and generations. His editorial finesse particularly shines in the climactic sequences, where emotional beats are intercut with action in a way that heightens both without overwhelming the audience. The transitions between quieter introspective moments and explosive set pieces are handled with such rhythm and restraint that the film never loses its tonal balance. Prasad’s contribution is instrumental in lending coherence and emotional continuity to an otherwise sprawling narrative.
Verdict
While Thug Life is powerful, poetic, and visually arresting, it isn’t without its structural shortcomings. Yet despite the narrative blemishes, Thug Life ultimately triumphs as a cinematic meditation on loyalty, love, and legacy. It is a film about the cost of keeping a promise, the pain of surrogate fatherhood, and the burden of memory. With masterful performances from Kamal Haasan, Silambarasan TR, and Aishwarya Lekshmi, bolstered by A.R. Rahman’s soul-stirring score and Ravi K. Chandran’s painterly cinematography, Thug Life transcends its flaws to become a violent elegy and a hauntingly beautiful ode to redemption.
Despite narrative clutter and uneven pacing, Thug Life is a soul-stirring gangster epic powered by stellar performances, visual grandeur, and Rahman’s evocative music — a flawed yet deeply moving cinematic elegy.
CINEMA SPICE RATING: ★★★ (3/5)