At first glance, Ekka might seem like yet another underworld tale. But beneath its gritty exterior lies a moody, layered drama that captures how a city, especially one like Bengaluru, can grind down the innocent and spit out scarred souls. Director Rohit Padaki presents a story that doesn’t shout but simmers, drawing you into a transformation that feels as painful as it is inevitable.

Lead by Yuvarajkumar as Mutthu, the film folds themes of morality, class divide, and chance into its narrative. It recalls Jogi (2005), with Shivarajkumar’s tragic descent, and Jackie (2010), where Puneeth Rajkumar stumbled into crime. But while Jogi soaked itself in longing, and Jackie played with swagger, Ekka walks the tightrope of realism, stylised grime, and emotional weight. The mother-son bonding holds purity in the village but turns complex in the city, when he expresses “Nange kai rakta aagide,” meaning, my hands are bloodied.

Director: Rohit Padaki

Cast: Yuva Rajkumar, Sanjana Anand, Sampada, Atul Kulkarni, Aditya, Rahul Dev Shetty, Shruthi, Sadhu Kokila and Poornachandra Mysore

From the start, Charan Raj’s pulsating score sets the tone. A gripping chase across Varanasi unfolds, creating visual tension. Then comes the flashback, kicked off by the thumping title track Ekka Maar Maar, perfectly aligned with the central metaphor: life is a game of cards, with fate always hiding a trick up its sleeve.

Mutthu (Yuvarajkumar), a village cabbie, is pushed to the edge after betrayal threatens his only home. His mother, Ratna (Shruti), is the film’s conscience, uttering words that linger, “Our hands should always be giving hands.” Her morality anchors the film, even as her son is dragged into the city’s spiral of survival and sacrifice.

The story begins in the village, where Ratna, a grounded woman with practical dreams, urges Mutthu to move to Bengaluru. He is reluctant until a friend vanishes with money he vouched for, leaving him and his mother homeless. Ratna lays down a condition: recover their home within six months. Thus begins their migration to a city that offers everything, except peace.

In Bengaluru, Mutthu finds refuge with Sridhar, his wife Kaveri, and their daughter Pammi, who affectionately calls him “Superman.” These scenes contrast sharply with the underworld currents seeping into his life. Driving bar dancers at night, Mutthu is drawn to Nandini (Sanjana Anand), a girl who first pretends but later admires his innocence, even inviting him to seek her brother’s (Puneeth Rudranag) approval for marriage.

Then fate intervenes. A cab ride ends in violence at a petrol bunk. Gangster “Daddy” (Poornachandra Mysore) takes notice, and suddenly, Mutthu is entangled in a world he never asked for. A killing, a cover-up, and misplaced loyalty spiral him downward.

There are shades of classic Bengaluru gangster films here, but Padaki never glorifies rowdyism. Instead, he presents men trapped in the vicious circle, wounded, weary, and seeking redemption the city never grants. Masthan, Garbage Ganga (Arun Sagar), and cop Aditya (Durgaprasad) bring layers of moral grey.

The writing is rich in contrasts: dump yards as war zones, the “Garden City” mutating into a “Gun City.” A mother’s words, “don’t see bad, don’t hear bad,” echo as blood is spilled. The memory of Pammi, the child Mutthu couldn’t save, haunts him, becoming his reason not to turn back.

The second half is packed with confrontations and existential reflections. Daddy’s accidental death at Mutthu’s hands feels like fate mocking intent. One scene brings emotional weight when Mutthu is requested to perform Daddy’s last rites. He is now broken, wondering if surviving means losing his soul. In that moment, we realise Mutthu is not the ace of the underworld, but he is the joker fate toyed with.

Visually, the film is striking. Sathya Hegde’s cinematography paints Bengaluru as a pressure cooker, with neon-lit bar streets, rust-stained hideouts, and sterile police corridors. The production design reinforces the film’s theme, where urban opportunity always comes at a price.

Charan Raj’s music is another triumph. While “Bangla Bangari” and “Ekka Maar Maar” deliver energy, they never distract from the emotional undercurrent.

What Ekka does best is maintain its emotional thread. Even amid betrayals, blood, and ambition, the story returns to Mutthu’s moral core, his mother’s values, a child’s trust, and the weight of unintended consequences. His transformation isn’t triumphant, it is tragic.

Yuvarajkumar shows growth here. Unlike his restrained debut in Yuva, he explores a broader emotional arc, from shy village lad to reluctant rowdy. Some heavier scenes could have used more bite, but he holds the screen with sincerity. Sanjana Anand is grounded as Nandini, her romance with Mutthu is refreshingly soft-spoken. So is Mallika's role, played by Sampada, which adds substance to the role. Atul Kulkarni brings gravitas as always, while Poornachandra Mysore shines in a performance that balances menace and melancholy. While Shruti is, at times, loud, her silences and small gestures anchor the film. Even Archana Kottige’s blink-and-miss role adds value. But the journey of Mutthu to Bengaluru begins with his friend Ramesh, the very reason behind his migration.

Ekka may not rewrite gangster cinema, but it reshuffles the deck with meaning. Rohit Padaki doesn’t bluff; he plays each card with care. The game is on. And Mutthu? He is both the joker and the ace.