Review: Shashtipoorthi, directed by Pavan Prabha, follows a familiar yet heartfelt path, exploring themes of estrangement, reconciliation and the quiet resilience of familial bonds. Ilaiyaraaja’s soulful score and a couple of evocative songs, paired with the director’s nostalgic treatment of community life, give the film a warm and intimate texture.

The screenplay, however, falters. The narrative takes too long to reach its emotional centre, with several scenes in the first half feeling random. The core premise, which revolves around an earnest attempt to heal a fractured family, truly comes alive only in the latter half, which may test the patience of some viewers.

While the emotional arcs in the second half strike a chord, the film misses the opportunity to make the most of its veteran actors. Rajendra Prasad and Archana, though impactful when they appear together, are underutilised in the first half. Their dynamic needed more screen time and depth, given the emotional weight their characters carry.

Rupeysh Choudhary delivers a committed performance, and Aakanksha Singh supports him well. The supporting cast helps build the world convincingly, especially through community interactions that evoke a gentle nostalgia reminiscent of old-school Telugu family dramas.

Visually, the film is pleasing. The cinematography is clean and unobtrusive, capturing the grounded environment with sincerity. Production values are decent, lending authenticity to the narrative setting.

Despite its slow start and inconsistent screenplay, Shashtipoorthi redeems itself with moments that touch the heart. It’s a modest yet meaningful watch for those who enjoy reflective family dramas rooted in tradition and culture.

The film opens with Namrutha aka Nami (Sruthi Hariharan) facing trial for the murder of wealthy Miss Eliza Sherman (Suhasini Maniratnam) in an American courthouse. These early courtroom scenes, following US procedural conventions with jury deliberations and cross-examinations, feel distinctly theatrical. The dialogue sounds more like position statements than actual conversation, coming across as stiff portraits rather than living drama. Maya Kannappa (Varalaxmi Sarathkumar), Nami’s formidable attorney, works through these proceedings with visible competence, though even her presence can’t entirely mask the procedural dryness that makes you check your watch.

Thankfully, the real movie emerges post-acquittal. Nami reveals herself as more than just a defendant – she’s a strategist who suspects her nurse husband Varun (Prakash Mohandas) orchestrated Eliza’s death for inheritance money. Through flashbacks, we see Eliza’s genuine bond with Nami, making her murder more personal and calculated. Suhasini Maniratnam brings gravitas to these glimpses, creating a fully-realized character despite limited screen time. Even Raphael, Eliza’s long-time caretaker, becomes a pawn in this game, manipulated by Varun to provide false testimony that nearly seals Nami’s fate.

What transforms the film is the alliance between three women against one manipulative man. When Pragya, Varun’s pregnant colleague, realizes his true nature after he casually suggests abortion as a first response to her news, she becomes the third player in this game. The dynamics shift as Nami, Maya, and Pragya orchestrate an elaborate trap using the early COVID pandemic as cover. It’s here that the initially plastic characterizations start to make sense – these people were always performing for each other, hiding their true intentions behind carefully constructed facades.

The film’s strength lies in how it treats manipulation as a double-edged sword. Varun believes he’s the puppet master, but the women around him have been pulling different strings all along. Using his arrogance against him, they create a scenario where his need to boast becomes his undoing. The recording scene where Varun confesses his crimes to Maya, believing her to be another conquest, is particularly well-executed – a predator caught by his own vanity.

Varalaxmi Sarathkumar commands every scene as Maya, bringing both legal authority and street-smart cunning to her role. She’s the film’s anchor, making even the stiff courtroom sequences watchable through sheer presence. Sruthi Hariharan impressively navigates Nami’s transformation from victim to victor, while Prakash Mohandas delivers a compelling performance that truly comes alive in the second half. The supporting cast are adequate.

Krishna Shankar shows promise in handling the thriller elements, particularly in the second half where psychological warfare replaces legal procedures. The screenplay excels at revealing character through action rather than exposition – watch how each person reacts when cornered, and you’ll understand who they really are. The film cleverly positions its reveals to maximize impact, letting us discover alongside the characters that trust is the most dangerous game of all. After all, Varun himself is the real infection that needs eliminating.

The Verdict works best when it abandons the courtroom for the messier arena of human duplicity, where justice wears a different face entirely. It’s a reminder that sometimes the best verdict isn’t delivered by a jury but orchestrated by those who refuse to remain victims.

Written By: Abhinav Subramanian