Avanirabekittu Movie Review: A scattered but relevant take on digital identity

Avanirabekittu, which roughly translates to 'He Should Have Been There', wears its title like an unsolved riddle. It speaks of absence, of a missing presence during a critical moment, and that central void powers this unpredictable thriller. At its core lies a simple but terrifying idea: What happens when someone else shares your name, your PAN number, and maybe even your entire bureaucratic identity? In a country increasingly governed by digital IDs, Aadhaar, PAN, eKYC verifications, this idea feels relatable and in tune with the times. Director Ashok Samrat taps into this modern paranoia and spins it into a psychological thriller that begins in confusion and unravels into full-blown chaos.

Direction: Ashok Samrat

Cast: Bharat Hassan, Sowmya John, Jayasimha, Lakshmi Devamma, and Prashanth Siddi

We follow Dev (Bharath Hassan), a smooth-talking car dealer with more secrets than clients. His prized asset? An old Ambassador, once used by unnamed "great personalities,” now rigged with hidden cameras and is bizarrely unsellable. His world begins to slip when a mysterious woman, Bhavya (Sowmya John), is found tied up in the trunk. She isn’t a simple kidnapping victim—she insists she’s part of a guerrilla marketing campaign, a mystery shopper. Malls, hair oil, fake ads—they are all part of a strange performance that feels less like strategy and more like delusion.
Then comes the real shock: a whopping ₹1 crore is siphoned off using the name “Theertha Narayanappa.” Shockingly, that name doesn’t belong to just one person—Dev and Bhavya share the same identity on paper, and every card they posses. Same name, same PAN number, same date of birth. What should be a minor clerical error becomes the fulcrum of a surreal legal and personal nightmare.

The first half of Avanirabekittu is intentionally disorienting, laying out pieces without immediately offering the picture. But it’s in the second half that the thriller finds its voice. The real tension lies in the investigation—not just into the stolen money or the duplicated identity, but into how fragile a person’s existence can be when filtered through state records and surveillance databases.

Sowmya John is convincing in her scenes of confrontation, at banks, in front of officials—where her character learns, slowly and painfully, that she may not legally exist as herself anymore. Dev, too, is shadowed by paranoia and guilt. A recurring nightmare sequence, featuring whispers of 'Theertha… Narayanappa', haunts him and gives the film some of its eeriest moments. Interestingly, Bharath Haasan, who plays Dev, clearly understands the psychological depth of the character, which helps him deliver a grounded performance.

The supporting cast, including Jayasimha, Lakshmi Devamma, and Prashanth Siddi, among others, bring their own essence to the film’s strange ensemble of bystanders, conspirators, and enablers.
While the performances do their bit to the film, the screenplay stumbles. Characters appear and vanish without explanation. Locations shift abruptly. At times, the film feels like it’s trying to outsmart the viewer rather than involve them. The overlong runtime doesn’t help, padding the plot with unnecessary detours. Still, Devaraj Poojari’s cinematography injects much-needed atmosphere, and Loki Tavasya’s two musical tracks act as soft interludes, briefly easing the film’s psychological tension.

Avanirabekittu is far from perfect, but it is undeniably different. It speaks from a distinctly Indian context—where a repeated or wrong digit in your PAN or Aadhaar could leave you legally helpless. It forces viewers to consider how our identities—once tangible—have become just data points.

It’s a chaotic film, scattered in its execution, and occasionally disjointed, but intelligent in its ambition as it raises a relevant question: In a world ruled by databases, what if your identity was no longer yours?