A story about talent as a tool for dignity, undone by its own contradictions
In the Telugu film Peddi, director Buchi Babu Sana reaches for something genuinely meaningful — a story about a lower-caste village's struggle for dignity, told through the arc of one gifted man — but the screenplay cannot hold the weight of its own ambitions. Ram Charan, playing a jaggery factory worker and cricketer from a community denied identity cards and voting rights, delivers a performance of rare conviction, carrying the film through its contradictions with grace. Yet even the most devoted actor cannot repair a narrative that abandons its own threads, mishandles its characters, and mistakes spectacle for substance. Peddi stands as a reminder that grand intentions and genuine talent are not, by themselves, enough.
- A film promising social resonance — about marginalized villagers fighting for basic recognition — arrives carrying the full weight of a big-budget Telugu production, raising expectations it ultimately cannot meet.
- The screenplay fractures early and often: a central antagonist inexplicably becomes sympathetic, an election that drives the first half vanishes without resolution, and a pivotal injury goes entirely unexplained between characters who should care deeply.
- Ram Charan fights for the film scene by scene, his cricket sequences mesmerizing and his emotional moments genuine, but the supporting cast — including Janhvi Kapoor and Divyenndu — is let down by writing that gives them neither coherence nor consequence.
- A.R. Rahman's score and Ratnavelu's cinematography lend the film a handsome surface, but weak VFX in key sequences and overlong editing erode the grandeur the production clearly intended.
- The film lands at a troubled crossroads — too scattered to succeed as social commentary, too inconsistent to satisfy as mass entertainment — earning 2 out of 5 stars despite its star's undeniable commitment.
Peddi opens with a premise that earns its ambition: a lower-caste village in Andhra Pradesh sits beside a railway line that never stops for its residents, a quiet symbol of a community denied identity cards, voting rights, and the attention of anyone in power. Into this world steps Peddi, a jaggery factory worker with extraordinary gifts as a cricketer, whose romance with a politician's daughter pulls him into a conflict that threatens both his community and his sport. A wrestling trainer named Gournaidu sees in Peddi a path toward dignity — the idea that athletic excellence might win for a village what bureaucracy has long refused.
Director Buchi Babu Sana mounts the story at genuine scale. Ratnavelu's cinematography gives the landscape grandeur, the production design feels carefully researched, and the cricket sequences crackle with energy. Boman Irani's character builds intrigue, and certain village scenes touch something emotionally true. The bones of a meaningful film are visible throughout.
But the screenplay collapses under its own contradictions. The antagonist Rambujji transforms from menace to decent man without any earned transition. The election that dominates the first half simply disappears. A crucial injury to Peddi is never explained to the mentor who should most want to understand it. The villagers' act of defiance — uprooting a railway track — reads as unintentionally comic rather than rousing. The treatment of Achiyamma, the film's central female character, is troubling enough to draw criticism from thoughtful viewers.
Ram Charan is the film's conscience and its lifeline. He inhabits the role with full conviction, moving through athletic sequences with mesmerizing fluency and finding genuine feeling in quieter moments. His performance is a masterclass in carrying material that doesn't always deserve him. Janhvi Kapoor is visually present but underserved by the writing; Divyenndu begins well before his character's arc collapses into absurdity. Jagapathi Babu and Shiva Rajkumar leave impressions far larger than their screen time, while Ravi Kishan and others are simply wasted.
A.R. Rahman's score functions without inspiring — 'Chikiri Chikiri' is the one song that lingers, carried by Mohit Chauhan's vocals, while the others fade almost immediately. The editing needed a firmer hand; the film's length becomes a burden rather than a statement.
Peddi wants to be a sports drama, a love story, a social critique, and a crowd-pleasing spectacle all at once, and its screenplay has the architecture for none of them. The premise retains its power — a community's fight for the most basic forms of recognition is a story worth telling — and Charan's commitment never wavers. But the execution is too scattered, too willing to abandon its own logic, and too reliant on a single performer to carry what the writing refuses to support.
Ram Charan carries Peddi through a film that begins with genuine promise but collapses under the weight of its own contradictions. The movie, directed by Buchi Babu Sana, tells the story of a man from a lower-caste village in Andhra Pradesh who works in a jaggery factory and happens to be a gifted cricketer. His village sits near a railway line that never stops, a small indignity that has frustrated residents for years—they lack identity cards and voting rights, so neither bureaucrats nor politicians listen to their pleas. When Peddi falls for Achiyamma, the daughter of a politician running against the father of Rambujji, a wealthy man's son, he finds himself caught between two worlds. Rambujji's family controls the cricket team Peddi plays for, and when Peddi defends Achiyamma against harassment during campaigning, he becomes an enemy. A wrestling trainer named Gournaidu sees potential in Peddi and convinces him that athletic achievement might be the path to dignity for his village.
On paper, this premise works. A story about an exceptional individual from a marginalized community, about talent as a tool for social recognition, about the gap between rural and urban India—these are the bones of something meaningful. Buchi Babu Sana's direction shows ambition. The film is mounted at scale, designed for the big screen, with cinematography by Ratnavelu that gives the landscape genuine grandeur. Some scenes land with real emotional weight. The buildup involving Boman Irani's character intrigues. The cricket sequences are genuinely compelling, and there are moments in the village scenes that touch something true.
But the screenplay fractures under scrutiny. The writing is random and unconvincing, lurching between tones and abandoning threads without explanation. Rambujji, established as a serious antagonist, mysteriously transforms into a decent person by the pre-climax in ways that feel laughable rather than earned. The film never tells us the outcome of the election that dominated the first half's narrative. A crucial injury to Peddi—inflicted by a character named Virbhadra—is never properly explained to Gournaidu, and when doctors later mention it, Gournaidu doesn't even ask Peddi about it. The villagers' decision to uproot the railway track is meant to be a rousing act of defiance but instead reads as silly. What follows doesn't work as intended either. The character of Achiyamma receives treatment that the reviewer notes will draw criticism from discerning audiences—a troubling choice that suggests the film doesn't know what it wants to say about her.
Ram Charan himself is the film's saving grace. He moves through cricket scenes with mesmerizing style and looks entirely convincing as a master athlete. In emotional moments, he shines. His performance is a masterclass in carrying material that doesn't always deserve him. Janhvi Kapoor is visually striking but her performance is merely average, hamstrung by writing that doesn't give her character coherence. Divyenndu starts strong but his character's reversal becomes absurd. Jagapathi Babu and Shiva Rajkumar make outsized impressions in small roles. Boman Irani occasionally tips into excess. Many other actors—Ravi Kishan, Tarak Ponnappa, Rajatava Dutta, and others—are underutilized, their talents wasted on thin material.
A.R. Rahman's score is functional rather than memorable. The song "Chikiri Chikiri" is the standout, buoyed by Mohit Chauhan's vocals, while "Rai Rai Raa Raa" and "Massa Massa" disappear from memory immediately. The cinematography and production design are well-researched and handsome. Costumes feel lived-in and authentic. But the VFX in crucial moments—particularly the railway track sequences—falls short, and the editing should have been tighter; the film's length becomes a liability rather than an asset.
What emerges is a film caught between ambitions it can't reconcile. It wants to be a sports drama, a social commentary, a love story, and a mass entertainer, but the screenplay doesn't have the architecture to hold all of that together. The premise about a marginalized community fighting for basic recognition remains powerful, and Charan's commitment to the role is undeniable. But the execution is too scattered, too willing to abandon its own logic for the sake of a scene or a moment. The film rests almost entirely on its lead actor's shoulders, and while he's strong enough to make stretches of it watchable, even he can't overcome the fundamental fractures in the storytelling.
Notable Quotes
Ram Charan has put in a lot of hard work and come out with flying colours, his style during cricket scenes mesmerizing and his emotional scenes shining— Critic review
The screenplay is interesting only in parts, suffering as it is random and unconvincing— Critic review
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What's the core problem here? It sounds like the idea is solid.
The idea is solid. A gifted athlete from a marginalized village, systemic exclusion, the possibility of using talent as a tool for dignity—that's real material. But the screenplay doesn't trust its own premise. It keeps abandoning threads.
Like what?
The election that drives the first half just vanishes. A crucial injury to the main character is never explained to the person training him. The villain becomes a good guy offscreen. It's as if the writer lost interest in his own story halfway through.
Does Ram Charan's performance make up for it?
Partially. He's genuinely excellent—the cricket scenes are mesmerizing, and he brings real depth to the emotional moments. But even a strong performance can't fix a screenplay that doesn't know what it's saying.
What about the film's treatment of the village and the caste dynamics?
That's where it gets uncomfortable. The film wants to be about systemic exclusion and marginalization, and those themes are real and important. But the execution is muddled, and the way certain characters—particularly the female lead—are handled will trouble thoughtful viewers.
So it's a film that reaches for something meaningful but doesn't have the craft to get there?
Exactly. Grand scale, good cinematography, a committed lead performance, but a screenplay that's too scattered and too willing to abandon its own logic.