“Thug Life” – When Legends Return… Without a Script“

“Thug Life” – When Legends Return… Without a Script : My quick take on the movie “Thug Life” (theatrical release)

There are cinematic reunions that rewrite history. And then there’s Thug Life—a film that feels like a high school reunion where everyone turned up out of obligation, not passion.

The last time Kamal Haasan and Mani Ratnam came together, they gave us Nayakan. That wasn’t just a movie; it was a cultural milestone. A desi Godfather that didn’t just raise the bar—it built it from the ground up. Add A.R. Rahman into the mix, and you’d expect the screen to combust in brilliance. Naturally, expectations weren’t just high—they were Himalayan.

But what arrived was not a summit. It was a slow-motion avalanche.

Thug Life doesn’t feel like it was made Dil Se. It feels more Zabardasti Se. The magic that once sparked between these legends now flickers like a dying bulb in a forgotten hallway. The chemistry is absent, the rhythm is off, and the entire film feels like a passion project nobody was actually passionate about.

Set in 1994, it drags with the weight of a story that seems to have been borrowed from a dusty shelf marked “leftovers from the ’70s.” The world outside has changed, evolved, moved on—but Thug Life insists on staying in a time capsule. Even the dialogues feel like repurposed motivational quotes that might have once earned a forward on WhatsApp.

The narrative jerks along like a rusted train unsure of its destination. Every ten minutes, we’re treated to close-ups of Kamal Haasan’s intensely furrowed brows—meant to signal gravitas, but more likely to be turned into memes by Monday morning. You brace yourself for something profound, but what unfolds is a high-definition ego trip, handsomely shot but hollow at its core.

Even Rahman, usually a sorcerer with sound, seems missing in action. The music passes by like hotel lobby jazz—pleasant, polished, but utterly unmemorable. That one track you hum on the way home? Doesn’t exist here. It’s like expecting a gourmet meal and getting reheated leftovers wrapped in nostalgia.

To be fair, Mani Ratnam does manage to sneak in a few moments of brilliance—the Himalayan action sequence, for instance, crackles with potential. For a brief second, you remember why you walked into the theatre in the first place. But then the film sinks back into its patchy flow, as if even it isn’t sure what story it’s trying to tell anymore.

What promised to be a magnum opus ends up a magnum bogus—a bloated tribute not to cinema, but to stature. It asks for reverence, but offers little in return. No matter how beautifully a frame is composed, it can’t distract from the emptiness within.

By the time the end credits roll, Thug Life feels less like a movie title and more like a cautionary tale.

On a lighter note, maybe it’s time filmmakers took a hint from the titles. First Thugs of Hindostan, now Thug Life—seems like whenever a movie has “thug” in the name, it’s the audience that ends up getting thugged. Coincidence? Or a cinematic scam in slow motion?