Kuberaa Movie Review: When survival feels like rebellion
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"Deva didn’t ask for a revolution. He just wanted to survive."
That’s what hits hardest in Kuberaa. Dhanush plays Deva with such simplicity that it hurts. He’s not trying to be a hero. He’s just dragged into something bigger than him—unknowingly. And the moment he realises he’s being used… he runs. That’s it. No big dialogues. No punching back. He just runs, and in that run, he becomes more powerful than the ones chasing him. Dhanush disappears into the role—you see a man, not an actor. His eyes carry both innocence and pain.
"Deepak didn’t fall—he was pushed."
Nagarjuna as Deepak is quietly tragic. A former upright officer, now compromised, not out of greed but helplessness. He’s a man stuck between guilt and duty, and Nagarjuna plays him with a kind of stillness that speaks louder than any line. His chemistry with Dhanush isn’t dramatic, but emotional—like two people recognising each other's brokenness.
"Neeraj doesn’t yell. That’s what makes him dangerous."
Jim Sarbh plays Neeraj with a strange calm. The kind that makes you uneasy. He doesn’t look evil—he looks sure. And sometimes, that’s worse. In just a few scenes, he leaves a mark. His control, his coldness, his final moments—they say a lot without trying too hard.
"A pause in the storm"
Rashmika doesn’t get a huge arc, but she brings breath to a heavy story. Her light moments with Dhanush feel like a much-needed pause—not forced romance, just two people sharing space. You wish she had more to do, but she does well with what she gets.
"Not every battle is loud. Some are slow burns."
The biggest surprise of Kuberaa is how quiet it is. There are no punch dialogues. No hero elevations. Just a slow unfolding of people trying to stay afloat in systems much bigger than them.
Sekhar Kammula takes his time—sometimes too much—but his honesty shows. He doesn’t force emotions. He lets them build. And when they hit, they hit hard. Especially in the final half hour—it’s a gut punch, but not in a theatrical way. It’s emotional in a grounded, human way.
"The system doesn’t kill you in one shot. It just keeps asking you to bend—until you break."
This idea flows through the entire film. Whether it’s Deepak being pushed to compromise or Deva being used without his knowledge, Kuberaa keeps showing us how systems crush individuals. Not with guns, but with pressure. With silence. With fake choices.
And yet, the film doesn’t end in hopelessness. It ends with a quiet reminder: even if the system is too big, one person choosing not to break still matters.
"Not everything needs proof."
There’s been debate about the climax—some people expected Deva and Sameera to take down the villain publicly, with evidence, noise, and victory. But Sekhar Kammula takes a different route. One that feels personal. It’s that quiet anger we all feel when someone richer or more powerful mocks our life—that silent thought: “Live like me for a day, then judge.” The film doesn’t end with exposure—it ends with reflection. And somehow, that hits harder.
Final Word:
Kuberaa is not your usual “mass” film. It takes its time. It stumbles in the first half. But it knows what it wants to say—and says it with heart. Dhanush is incredible. Nagarjuna is restrained and real. Sekhar Kammula gives us a story that talks about poverty, systems, silence, and survival. And he does it without noise.
Not everyone will love it. But if you’ve ever felt small in a big world—this film might just feel like it sees you.
