After the emotional success of Jersey, expectations were sky-high for Gowtam Tinnanuri’s next outing. Kingdom, a film that traverses decades—from British colonial atrocities to modern-day Sri Lanka’s smuggling underworld—was poised to be a sweeping saga of loss, reunion, and redemption. But what we get instead is a half-baked epic, stretched too thin between genres, emotions, and timelines.
The Idea Was Grand, The Execution Was Not
The plot is promising on paper: In the 1920s, the Divi tribe along the Srikakulam coast is displaced by colonial violence. Seventy years later, police constable Suri (Vijay Deverakonda), haunted by memories of his missing brother Shiva (Satyadev), takes on a covert spy mission to uncover truths buried in time. His journey leads him to Sri Lanka, where smuggling cartels rule the land—and where fate delivers more than just a professional assignment.
But from the very start, Kingdom suffers from tonal inconsistency. The film tries to be a historical drama, a spy thriller, a story of reincarnation, and a tearjerker all at once—without giving any of these genres the full narrative oxygen they need.
Vijay Deverakonda Bleeds, Broods—But To What End?
Vijay Deverakonda brings his trademark intensity to Suri, a constable whose restrained rage masks deep grief. While his performance is layered and sincere, the screenplay does not offer him enough emotional depth. His reunion with Shiva is dramatically framed but emotionally underwhelming. Satyadev, always reliable, is shortchanged by an underwritten arc, robbing the story of its most potentially powerful thread—brotherhood.
Bhagyashri Borse as the female lead is largely ornamental. Her character’s motivations are skimmed over, and crucial romantic beats are missing—perhaps lost on the editing table. Venkitesh VP makes a striking debut as the antagonist Murugan, but even his menace feels forced in a plot that loses steam midway.
A Technical Masterclass with a Shaky Narrative
There’s no denying Kingdom is a feast for the senses. Cinematographers Girish Gangadharan and Jomon T. John craft arresting images—from mist-covered island jungles to blood-spattered hideouts. The action choreography, particularly a jungle chase sequence, is grounded and effective. Naveen Nooli’s editing tries to keep things brisk, but can’t fix the film’s structural problems.
Anirudh Ravichander’s background score elevates several moments, though the music too occasionally feels like it’s carrying the weight of an otherwise emotionally distant screenplay.
Second Half Syndrome Strikes Again
Where Kingdom truly falters is in its latter half. What starts as a tightly wound tale of infiltration and personal discovery soon derails into an overly symbolic, melodramatic mess. Key moments—such as the brothers’ fallout and a Game of Thrones-inspired massacre—feel oddly cold, as if ticking off plot points without investing in them.
There are too many narrative threads—tribal struggles, past trauma, brotherhood, patriotism, morality—none of which receive the full-circle treatment. Instead, the film speeds past emotional beats in favour of generic voiceovers and stylized confrontations.
Worse, the screenplay never allows the audience to feel with the characters. Scenes designed for catharsis land flat, not due to poor acting, but due to poor buildup.
At several points, Kingdom can’t help but evoke comparisons to recent high-octane blockbusters like Salaar, KGF, the cult Aayirathil Oruvan, the average Jigarthanda 2, Devara, and the below-average Retro. From its dust-swept visuals, mythic saviour arcs, tribal uprisings, and stylised violence, the film clearly draws inspiration from the mass-action storytelling template made popular by Prashanth Neel. The brooding hero with a traumatic past, the gritty world-building soaked in sepia tones, and the constant positioning of the protagonist as a “chosen one” all feel overly familiar.
What once felt raw and revolutionary in KGF now seems like a creative crutch in Kingdom. Even the smuggling cartel and the morally grey anti-hero figure echo themes we’ve already seen in Salaar and Devara. The issue isn’t that Kingdom borrows—it’s that it does so without reinventing or deepening those tropes, leading to a sense of déjà vu. As the narrative stretches, the film starts to feel like a remix of better films, where spectacle is prioritised over soul. This over-reliance on stylistic familiarity makes Kingdom feel like a shadow of its inspirations, eventually slipping into predictability and, at times, outright boredom.
Kingdom had all the ingredients for a compelling cinematic experience: a visionary director, a charismatic lead, a layered premise, and technical finesse. Yet what it delivers is a bloated, emotionally sterile saga that rushes through its story without ever truly arriving.
Had Gowtam Tinnanuri committed to fewer themes and dug deeper into character psychology, Kingdom might have stood shoulder to shoulder with the greats of Telugu cinema. As it stands, it’s a cautionary tale of what happens when ambition outpaces storytelling.
CINEMA SPICE RATING: ★★ (2/5)