The serial killer trope in the whodunit genre often leans on familiar psychological trauma as a driving force, and Asthram attempts to inject a unique twist by incorporating a chess-fueled obsession. Director Aravind Rajagopal presents a story where a boy with a manic passion for chess gradually turns into a serial killer. His mother rewards his victories with a kiss, which becomes an unhealthy fixation. The tragic loss of his mother, combined with repeated defeats in chess, sparks his descent into a murderous frenzy. Despite this intriguing setup, Asthram falters in execution, ultimately failing to deliver the tension and suspense expected from a gripping thriller.
One of the film’s biggest missteps is its over-reliance on exposition. The central plot revolves around a police officer, Akhilan (Shaam), investigating a series of mysterious deaths. In each case, the victim moves a knife in a cross-like motion before fatally stabbing themselves in the stomach. This pattern is repeated multiple times throughout the film, making the deaths feel monotonous rather than shocking. The victims have no apparent connection, yet Akhilan quickly deduces a link to an obscure Japanese myth, which the film spends an inordinate amount of time explaining. The lack of subtlety in storytelling robs the film of any real intrigue, as the audience is spoon-fed every detail rather than being invited to piece the puzzle together.
For a protagonist tasked with solving an intricate case, Akhilan makes some baffling choices. In one scene, neither he nor his fellow officers recognize a famous portrait of chess grandmaster Vishwanathan Anand—a figure instantly recognizable to most viewers. The film forces this ignorance into the script simply to justify an unnecessary exposition dump about chess and its connection to the case. Additionally, Asthram leans heavily on outdated mind control theories, referring to the phenomenon as “mesmerism,” which, while interesting in concept, is handled with little finesse. Instead of drawing the audience into a world of psychological manipulation, the film makes it feel more like a forced gimmick that doesn’t truly fit within the narrative.
Rather than weaving organic surprises into the story, Asthram bombards the audience with twists that feel random and unearned. Characters appear at the perfect moment, not because of well-laid clues, but out of sheer convenience. A crucial suspect conveniently walks into Akhilan’s path just after his identity is hinted at, echoing the kind of clichéd writing seen in countless formulaic crime thrillers. The film struggles to create genuine suspense, instead relying on repetitive shock tactics that quickly lose their impact.
Despite an earnest effort, the cast struggles to elevate Asthram beyond its weak script. Shaam, as the lead investigator, is given little room to showcase depth or complexity in his character. His performance feels restrained, likely due to the uninspired writing. The supporting cast, including Nira, Ranjith DSM, Venba, and Nizhalgal Ravi, do their best with the material, but the film never allows them to truly shine. Even the climax, which should have been the film’s crowning moment, comes off as contrived, culminating in a forced cliffhanger that hints at a potential sequel.
Asthram starts with an intriguing premise but quickly loses its way by relying on excessive exposition, illogical character decisions, and uninspired plot twists. What could have been a tense and cerebral thriller instead becomes a film that talks too much and excites too little. The final act attempts to leave the door open for a sequel, but after this lackluster outing, the prospect of continuing the story feels more like an obligation than an invitation.
Leave a Reply