S/o Muthanna Movie Review: Rangayana Raghu anchors this emotional family tale about bonds tested by distance and time

S/o Muthanna Movie Review:

Cinema has long leaned on family dramas, stories of fathers who cling to principles, mothers who hold the fort, relationships tested by distance, and children who drift away in pursuit of something. These films often walk a precarious line between heartfelt and overwrought. S/o Muthanna, directed by Sriikanth Hunsur, doesn’t entirely escape predictability, but it manages to capture the lived truths of those families we recognise in our own neighbourhoods. Not the “real incident” cinema usually claims, but the everyday reality of parents waiting for calls from their children, bonds formed in silence, and conversations postponed until it’s too late.

Cast: Pranam Devaraj, Rangayana Raghu, Kushee Ravi, Suchendra Prasad, and Sudha Belawadi

Director: Srikanth Hunsur

At its centre is Major Muthanna (Rangayana Raghu), a retired army man whose discipline is matched only by his loneliness. His wife Rathnamma (Sudha Belawadi), once the ballast of his life, is gone, and in her absence, he conceals longing behind dry wit and a stoic smile. The narrative orbits around his son, Shiva (Pranam Devaraj), and the uneasy blend of affection and obligation that governs their relationship.

Muthanna’s world expands when Sakshi (Kushee Ravi), a young doctor, walks in for a routine check-up. For Shivu, attraction is immediate; for Sakshi, compassion gradually turns into something deeper. She is a devoted daughter and a career-driven woman, caught in the quiet tug-of-war between duty and independence. Both she and Shivu embody silent sacrifices, choices made not for dramatic revelation but for the unspoken weight of family.

The contrasts are sharply drawn. Shiva, who never knew a steady family structure, discovers belonging in a household not his own. Muthanna, who has children, feels abandoned in their absence, yet finds solace in Shiva's presence. These ironies mirror contemporary families, where ambition and migration leave parents rooted in silence, their days interrupted only by video calls and missed words.

The film, however, doesn’t stride evenly. The first half sets up its themes patiently but stumbles with over-explained dialogue and familiar beats. Some scenes linger too long, spelling out what could have been conveyed with restraint. It’s in the second half that S/o Muthanna finds its footing. The emotions breathe more freely, the silences carry more weight, and the story turns from routine to resonant.

If the writing wavers, the performances steady the film. Raghu is its immovable core, delivering with measured grace; his pauses, emotions, and glances carry more ache than monologues ever could. Pranam Devaraj’s rawness works for Shivu, a man torn between dreams and duties. Kushee Ravi brings warmth and depth, refusing to play a mere romantic foil; she subtly shifts the father–son rhythm and keeps the narrative from slipping into monotony. Together, they underline the film’s philosophy: life is short, make it sweet, a sentiment that feels more earned in their hands than in the dialogue. Sudha Belawadi, in a fleeting turn as Rathnamma, deepens the sense of loss, while Suchendra Prasad, Giri Shivanna, and others add support.

What distinguishes S/o Muthanna is its attention to detail rather than grand twists: a memory of the monsoon, a line about ambition without bonding, or a simple act of presence that outlives words. In Rangayana Raghu’s performance, these moments become lived truths rather than crafted dialogue.

The film expands the father–son story into a meditation on scattered families and the unexpected companions who fill the void. Its cultural resonance is sharpened in the final note, the desire of elders to spend their last days in Kashi, not merely as ritual, but as a longing for closure when ties have loosened.

S/o Muthanna may sometimes lean heavy-handed, but in its second half, especially, it rings true. In both its silences and its stumbles, it mirrors the ache of today’s families, where love is felt most in absence. Imperfect though it is, the film earns its place as a story worth telling.