Maarnami Movie Review:

The opening frame of Maarnami shows white letters stained with blood, marking its emotional tone right from the word go. Composer Charan Raj sets the mood with a rustic score that connects immediately to the coastal setting. The tone is clear. This story is not just about violence or romance, but about the forces that shape both.

Set during the coastal festival of Hulivesha, the tiger dance serves as the film’s central image. Hulivesha involves paint, costume and transformation. But the larger question persists. Who is truly in disguise? The performer, the lover, or the society that labels and judges?

Director: Rishith Shetty

Cast: Ritvvikk Mathad, Chaithra Achar, Prakash Thuminad
Sonu Gowda, Jyothish Shetty, Suman, and Swaraj Shetty

Director Rishith Shetty begins with a childhood marble game. A young Chetu faces teasing, and in that small humiliation lies the start of a delicate pride. He draws a family portrait on a slate. His father's absence speaks louder than any words. His mother (Sonu Gowda) becomes his only source of warmth and ritual. Their home is full of promises tied to Hulivesha. Faith sits alongside fear. Chetu prays for her health with the stubborn belief of a child who thinks devotion can change fate. It does not.

Loss shapes him early. Later, under the care of Vasantha (Prakash Thuminad), Chetu grows into a man with quiet influence. Two decades later, Chetu (Rittvikk Mathad) is composed and restrained. Minor gang ties and local power dynamics define his public image. Inside, he remains the boy who wanted a complete family picture.

Into this guarded life steps Deeksha (Chaithra Achar). Her love is not naive. She chooses Chetu with clarity. She sees the man beneath the reputation. Where his world feels emotionally dry, she brings warmth and new life. Their relationship forms the backbone of the film. It is a negotiation between past wounds and present hope.

Yet Maarnami points to something more unsettling. Love can steady a man who has known only absence. Betrayal can awaken something far more dangerous. The film does not announce this turn. It allows it to emerge gradually. As loyalties blur and trust begins to fracture, Chetu stands at a crossroads shaped by affection and anger. In that journey, love and violence begin to reflect each other, both rising from the same need to belong.

Rishith Shetty builds the story around perception. Deeksha looks past labels. Chetu seeks not power but a simple family life. The emotional debate of the film rests here. Can love soften a man shaped by loss and judgment, or does betrayal push him back to instinct?

Rittvikk Mathad delivers a performance grounded in restraint. His Chetu expresses more through pauses and watchful eyes than through dialogue. The world around him may see aggression, but the camera catches hesitation. That contrast holds the story together. Chaithra Achar matches him with a performance that carries weight. She moves through shifting shades with control, inviting empathy one moment and prompting doubt the next.

The rivalries within the tiger dance troupes add another dimension to the narrative. Painted faces conceal pride and resentment. An accidental photograph, an obituary poster and a dog’s cry act as quiet warnings. Prakash Thuminad provides emotional grounding in a role that quietly shapes the course of events. Suman Talwar appears briefly, while Jyothish Shetty and Swaraj Shetty blend naturally into the story.

Technically, the film remains solid. Charan Raj's score supports without overwhelming. The coastal visuals by Shiva Sena balance beauty with grit, and production designer Varadaraj recreates the Maarnami festivities with authentic detail. Hulivesha functions not just as a backdrop but as a reflection of the characters’ inner conflicts.

The slow-burn approach works for most of the film, though the latter half could have been tighter to maintain emotional intensity. Still, Maarnami blends culture, love and conflict within a vivid coastal setting. Beneath the tiger paint stands a boy who once drew a family picture on a slate. That unfinished drawing becomes the film’s most enduring image.