Radheyaa Review: A conventional crime thriller anchored by Krishna Ajai Rao’s haunting performance

Crime stories usually promise thrills, suspense, tension, a sense of constant motion, and action. Radheyaa delivers all that but in a quietly unsettling way. This is a slow burner that never loses its grip, and the pace is dictated by its protagonist’s confession, keeping suspense alive till the very end.

Radheyaa (Krishna Ajai Rao), a man responsible for over 36 murders, later claimed as 42, surrenders himself, not seeking redemption but to provide an explanation. He is ready to narrate what shaped him into this cold-blooded figure.

“I am responsible for all the murders, including my wife and the unborn child. I am a killer. Don’t let me live; hang me,” he says. The words are chilling. Krishna Ajai Rao, known for his suave lover-boy roles and middle-class sensibilities, embraces a grey-shaded character with understated grace. He does not rely on physical intimidation. His menace lies in quiet moments, the calm yet agitated eyes, and controlled expressions. Here, an average build becomes terrifying simply because of the weight of what he carries and the inevitability of his words. Even inside jail, his influence persists, and he commits murders there too.

Anupama Ranjan (Dhanya Balakrishna) plays the writer he seeks out to tell his story. “I don’t want people to do math, I want someone to write honestly,” he insists. In this measured confidence, the film finds its heartbeat. Radheyaa’s confession is not for the police or judgment. It is to have his story documented, not distorted. Anupama’s calm, probing presence contrasts with his unnerving composure. Their interactions are charged with suspense, each conversation peeling back a layer of Radheyaa’s psyche while never fully revealing the man.

Amrutha (Sonal Monteiro), revealed through flashbacks, adds depth to the story. A crime reporter with ambitions of national channels but tied to local reality, she embodies shattered dreams. Her accidental encounter with Radheyaa changes both their lives. Through her, Radheyaa’s humanity flickers. Their sequences brim with tension, a haunting helplessness, and subtle empathy, making his crimes feel human rather than sensationalised.

Debutant director Veda Guru shows remarkable control. Radheyaa is deliberate, measured, yet unpredictable. Each flashback and revelation is meticulously paced to build tension. The fact that Radheyaa is particular about speaking to a specific writer and choosing to confess his murder only to Anupama works as an effective twist. Cinematographer Rammy focuses mostly on close-ups of Ajai, capturing the smallest flickers of expression that reveal his inner turmoil. Judah Sandy’s background score enhances the film further, rising and falling with the tempo, intensifying the quiet menace of Radheyaa’s world. The director has even given a new twist to Ashok Sharma’s cameo role. Here, suspense emerges not from chase sequences or sudden action but from the unfolding of a man’s life through his own words and the writer who seeks to understand, not judge.

Ajai Rao’s performance, Sonal’s vulnerability, and Dhanya Balakrishna’s composed presence together create a dynamic that is unpredictable and quietly terrifying. Whether Radheyaa is inherently good or evil is left to the audience. The film is a crime thriller but also a study of confessions, consequences, and the human cost behind every murder.

By the time the credits roll, one question remains. Can a story told in whispers and close-ups hold the same weight as one driven by action? Does Radheyaa’s slow-burning suspense finally prove that sometimes the quietest confession is the most haunting?