Peddi review: Ram Charan and the emotions hit sixes, the writing gets run out

Peddi movie review: Ram Charan's Peddi follows a nameless village's fight for a railway station and identity. The film lands emotionally despite visible logic gaps, weak romance writing and uneven editing.

In Short

• Peddi is the story of a daily wage labourer, Ram Charan, fighting for his nameless village
• Directed by Buchi Babu Sana, it also stars Jahnvi Kapoor and Shiva Rajkumar
• Billed as a sports drama, the film released globally on June 4

There are films that keep audiences waiting. Then there are films that make audiences wonder whether the wait was worth it. After years of delays, endless speculation and the familiar uncertainty that now follows most star-led pan-India productions, Peddi finally arrives carrying both excitement and scepticism in equal measure. By the time it reached theatres, it was carrying more than expectations. It was carrying years of discussions, leaked plot points and the pressure of being Ram Charan's next big statement.

The interesting thing is that the film rewards everyone and frustrates everyone at the same time. Fans get enough moments to celebrate. Neutral viewers get to see Ram Charan attempt something few stars of his stature would dare to touch and gives sceptics enough ammunition to say, "I told you so." That contradiction sits at the heart of Peddi.

At a time when stars are chasing larger universes, bigger action spectacles and endless world-building sagas, Ram Charan and director Buchi Babu Sana choose a surprisingly intimate emotional story for their big summer release.

Set in a nameless village tucked beneath a mountain, the film revolves around a community fighting for something most people would consider ordinary: a railway station. The village doesn't have basic resources, lacks recognition and, in many ways, lacks an identity of its own. Why does a village without a name desperately need a railway station? How does Peddi's journey as an athlete become tied to that dream? And how does one man's search for identity become intertwined with an entire community's struggle for existence? Those questions form the emotional backbone of the film.

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Peddi is ultimately one of those films where emotion frequently defeats logic. The difference is that it does so with remarkable conviction. Time and again, the film asks the audience to ignore what their head is saying and trust what their heart is feeling. More often than not, it succeeds.

A large part of that success belongs to Ram Charan. His introduction is the kind of scene that reminds you why star entries continue to exist. Though these days, half the audience seems more interested in recording them than watching them. As phones rise across the theatre, so does Charan's command over the film. From that point onwards, he becomes its beating heart.

The transformation is not merely physical. Charan changes posture, body language, energy and attitude with impressive ease. Peddi begins as a carefree daily wage labourer, occasionally venturing into deeply uncomfortable territory in his interactions with Achiyamma, played by Jahnvi Kapoor, before gradually evolving into a man fighting for both personal and collective identity.

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Whether it is the cricket sequence where he realises he is being cheated while facing twenty-one opponents, the emotionally charged railway godown scene where he pleads with the police about his identity, the powerful "Nanu Peddi Saaru" moment or the emotional highs of the climax, Charan consistently delivers.

Then comes the film's biggest gamble. Without revealing too much, the transformation the character undergoes in the latter portions of the film is genuinely surprising. More importantly, it is the kind of decision very few commercial stars would willingly approve. In an industry often obsessed with protecting hero's image, Peddi occasionally prioritises character over stardom. That alone deserves appreciation. His dancing deserves a mention as well. At a time when many stars have quietly reduced dancing to a contractual obligation, Charan performs with the ease and enthusiasm that once made him one of Telugu cinema's biggest attractions.

Fortunately, the film does not leave him carrying the emotional burden alone. Buchi Babu Sana once again proves that emotions remain his greatest strength. The structure itself is familiar: introduction, songs, romance, conflict, interval, transformation and larger purpose. In fact, trailers, interviews and social media leaks revealed far more than they should have. Many of the film's major turns can be spotted long before they arrive. Yet the emotional journey remains engaging. That is because Buchi understands something many commercial filmmakers often forget. Audiences may know the destination, but the journey still matters.

The emotional build-up, the gradual raising of stakes and the patience with which certain moments are developed ensure that several predictable scenes still land effectively. Helping him immensely is AR Rahman. The songs take time to settle, but the background score rarely misses a beat. Whether it is triumph, heartbreak, sacrifice or hope, Rahman's music consistently strengthens the film's emotional pulse. The layering of themes, recurring motifs and inventive instrumentation serves as a reminder of why he remains one of cinema's most revered composers. This is easily among his stronger recent works.

The supporting cast also contributes significantly to the film's emotional foundation. Shiva Rajkumar brings tremendous screen presence and dignity to his role. The bond between Peddi and Gournaidu becomes one of the film's strongest emotional pillars. Jagapathi Babu's Appala Soori, despite occasionally drifting into melodrama, effectively establishes both the threat and the stakes.

Visually, Peddi often impresses. R Rathnavelu's cinematography gives the film a distinct identity. Whether it is the raw energy of the wrestling arenas, the texture of the jaggery mills, the dusty roads of the village or the way darkness is used during several night sequences, the visuals constantly reinforce the film's emotional grounding. The village never feels like a set dressed up for a shoot, which many pan-Indian films fail to achieve. Which makes the VFX shortcomings all the more noticeable.

For a film mounted on this scale, certain sequences carry a visible artificiality that briefly pulls viewers out of the experience. Rathnavelu does his job. The post-production work does not always match his standard.

The film's biggest problem, however, is neither technical nor narrative. It is Janhvi Kapoor's character. The issue is not simply that the romantic track feels disconnected from the central story. The issue is how the character is conceived and presented. Nearly every scene featuring her seems designed around objectification rather than character development.

What makes this especially frustrating is that the character actually has potential. As the daughter of a politician who has repeatedly lost elections, she could have played a meaningful role in the larger narrative and political landscape of the story. Instead, she is reduced to little more than visual decoration. The dialogues only worsen matters.

Whether it is lines such as "Is she talking or showing?", "I will touch her once because neither she nor her father will allow me to marry her", or comments about not looking at a girl's face, the film repeatedly mistakes problematic behaviour for romance. Because her screen time is limited, these moments stand out even more. Rather than becoming a minor flaw, they become one of the film's most distracting weaknesses.

The editing presents another hurdle. Despite crossing the three-hour mark, Peddi remains largely engaging whenever it focusses on its core story. Yet transitions often feel abrupt. Scenes appear to end before they have fully developed. Narrative links occasionally feel missing, particularly in the first half, as though portions of the film were removed midway through the editing process.

The screenplay experiences similar highs and lows. The crossover athlete journey feels convenient in places. The wrestling-cricket blend may work cinematically, but sports enthusiasts are likely to raise a few eyebrows. Why do Vijayanagaram gangs suddenly rally behind Peddi? Why does he return the money he earns before leaving for Delhi? When did Achiyamma fall in love? Several logical gaps become increasingly visible whenever the emotional momentum slows down.

And yet, for all its flaws, Peddi remains difficult to dismiss. Perhaps because its ambition feels genuine. Perhaps because Ram Charan's commitment is absolute. Or perhaps because the central idea itself is so unusual for a star-driven commercial entertainer. The logic has gaps you could drive a train through, which, given the subject matter, feels oddly appropriate. But the emotions arrive on time. And in Peddi, that is the journey that matters most.

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