The film released amid heated debates over Kamal Haasan’s Tamil-Kannada remarks and Chinmayi Sripaada’s outspoken critiques on gender representation, intensifying scrutiny on its political and cultural positioning
Published Jun 08, 2025 | 3:06 PM ⚊ Updated Jun 08, 2025 | 3:06 PM
Gender, guns, and gimmicks: Thug life misses the mark
Synopsis: Thug Life arrives with hype but no heart. Instead of reflecting society, it retreats into regressive tropes, patriarchal clichés, and outdated storytelling. Released amid fiery debates on identity and gender in South Indian cinema, it squanders the chance to say something meaningful. What could’ve been provocative ends up dull, directionless, and deeply disappointing
“Cinema is a reflection of society,” said Satyajit Ray. “And it should question, challenge, and illuminate.”
Unfortunately, Thug Life neither questions, nor challenges, let alone illuminates. Instead, it confidently marches backward into the dusty vaults of outdated cinema. Thug Life doesn’t just miss the mark—it doesn’t even aim.
Despite its promising premise and significant PR campaign, the film fails spectacularly to live up to any meaningful ideal. It is mired in tired patriarchal tropes, a dated screenplay, and uninspired technical execution, making it not only boring but also culturally regressive.
The film’s release came amidst heated debates stirred by Kamal Haasan’s controversial remarks on Tamil-Kannada language disputes and Chinmayi Sripaada’s vocal criticism on gender representation and progressive cinema.
In this climate, Thug Life’s failure is all the more glaring. It neither rises to the occasion of meaningful storytelling nor challenges the prevailing cinematic and social narratives. It merely rehashes a monotonous and patriarchal formula, undermining the audience’s intelligence and sensibilities.
The film’s biggest crime is not just its regressive content—it’s the sheer monotony. Clocking in at over two hours, Thug Life feels like an extended director’s cut of a movie that should have ended during intermission.
Scenes stretch endlessly, only to arrive at nowhere. At one point, a man sitting behind me muttered, “I think they’re going back to the same fight scene for the third time.” The whole theatre laughed, ironically, during the climax sequence set to the song “Vinveli Nayaga.”
Quoting Anton Chekhov: “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” In Thug Life, we’re not shown glints or glass—we’re told repeatedly that the moon is shining, even during mid-day fight scenes shot with glaring lens flares.
And just when you think the mood can’t sink lower, in comes the song “Anju Vanna Poove” for the fifth time. What was likely intended to be a haunting leitmotif becomes a groan-worthy interruption. If you entered expecting a memorable soundtrack, this number will make you wish you could forget.
In an era when cinema increasingly attempts to dismantle regressive gender norms, Thug Life feels like a throwback to an earlier, darker time.
The film unabashedly glorifies toxic masculinity, where violence is valorized as the only means to assert power and respect. Male characters are one-dimensional hyper-masculine figures who solve every problem with brute force.
“Representation is not about how many women are on screen,” goes a common refrain, “but whether they have a voice, a will, and a world beyond the men they orbit.”
Here, women exist merely as props: love interests, victims, or moral anchors. They lack agency or complexity. The script offers no space for their voices or struggles beyond how they affect the male protagonist. Women are reduced to decorative props, validating male suffering or virtue.
Thug Life could have explored masculinity, power, and gender dynamics—especially following Kamal Haasan’s remarks on language politics and identity, which ignited a Tamil-Kannada row.
Kamal’s comments highlighted how identity—linguistic, cultural, or gendered—is deeply contested in South India.
In this charged atmosphere, the film instead reinforces narrow, regressive identities. It wallows in clichés, missing the opportunity to engage thoughtfully with contemporary questions of identity, power, and respect.
Female characters in Thug Life are trapped in stereotypical roles: visual eye candy or emotional fodder for male arcs. Even in scenes meant to offer depth, women are silenced or objectified—echoing Laura Mulvey’s “male gaze.”
The film misses a vital opportunity to depict women as complex beings navigating their own dilemmas. Their struggles are overshadowed by the male characters’ violent quests, rendering their presence tokenistic. The female body has long been the battlefield of patriarchy—cinema merely weaponizes it with better lighting.
The screenplay feels like a dusty artifact from a bygone era, awkwardly transplanted into today’s world. Dialogue is stilted and saturated with gangster clichés explored more compellingly elsewhere. The narrative structure is painfully predictable—rise, conflict, revenge—with no attempt at originality or character depth.
Shakespeare wrote, “What’s past is prologue.” But Thug Life’s past is stuck in a loop, refusing to evolve. Characters remain static, motivations shallow, and the plot tediously obvious. It’s as if the film speaks a cinematic language the world has outgrown.
Sound can elevate emotion and tension. Regrettably, Thug Life’s background score does the opposite. Loud, generic, and poorly timed, it clashes with rather than complements the mood.
Instead of subtle underscoring, it leans on recycled gangster beats and uninspired themes. Emotional moments lack gravitas due to inconsistent sound design—dialogues drowned out, scenes over-amplified. It’s a technical flaw that saps the film of what little impact it has.
Thug Life arrived with considerable hype and promotional backing but fails across the board—narrative, themes, gender portrayal, and execution. It is stuck in the past, offering nothing new or daring.
In a time when filmmakers are urged to reflect evolving norms, this film disappoints by doubling down on patriarchy and tired tropes. It is not provocative or insightful—just a tedious relic of storytelling we should have left behind.
As Kamal Haasan’s commentary and Chinmayi’s calls for equity remind us, art must do more than entertain. It must critique and confront.
Thug Life missed that mark.
“Great cinema speaks truth to power,” wrote Pauline Kael.
Thug Life just whispers clichés to the nearest punchline.
Honestly, watching this felt like surviving a three-hour family function with no food and endless small talk. Even my keyboard sighed every time I typed Thug Life.
(Edited by Ananya Rao)
