Actor Vishnu Vishal’s “Ratsasan” (2018) left a strong impression on Tamil cinema audiences. Any thriller released after “Ratsasan” (2018) naturally invites comparison, and with “Aaryan” (2025), Vishnu Vishal becomes the target of such expectations once again.
*Spoilers ahead*
Most mainstream films open with a label on the screen showing the location or time of the story. But “Aaryan” (2025) begins directly and differently with “Day 01”. The curiosity to understand the meaning behind this day count builds up quickly, though it fades within minutes. The hostage sequence that follows lacks intensity, perhaps because actor Selvaraghavan, who plays the antagonist Azhagar, struggles to project a convincing serial-killer menace.
For a while, it feels like a standard live-television hostage drama, not new to world cinema, but relatively fresh for Tamil cinema. Soon, however, we realize that Azhagar is not merely the abductor who takes a live audience hostage, but also a victim himself. This twist briefly revives the audience’s interest. Yet a short romantic detour that follows immediately weakens the momentum, flattening the suspense that had just begun to take shape.
This pattern repeats across the film; whenever the screenplay finds its rhythm, it hits a speed bump. Azhagar handpicks six individuals for what he calls his “masterpiece.” A failed writer, he views murder as art. He named his unwritten last story “Aaryan”. But until the third act, his motivation remains unclear. A serial killer on a spree is not new, so writer-director Praveen gives Azhagar a reason, a purpose that is both unsettling and oddly philosophical.

The film suggests that Azhagar’s actions come from a place of bitterness, shaped by a society that ignores ordinary people who failed to achieve greatness. These are the usual people we often see in the corner columns of the local newspapers. Many films before have shown characters kidnapping celebrities or public figures to make statements, using notoriety as leverage. “Aaryan” (2025) writers flip that idea. Instead of targeting the powerful, Azhagar kills the forgotten people whose small failures never made headlines. Azhagar befriends them, pities them, and chooses them as his targets. Interestingly, Azhagar himself is a target on his list.
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Nambi (played by Vishnu Vishal) is introduced as a capable police officer who would even risk his marriage for his job. When he realizes that he is the final target in Azhagar’s killing spree, he tries to break his routine and stay one step ahead. As he begins studying the murders, he notices a pattern that the killer uses each victim’s habits and routines against them. With this insight, Nambi attempts to identify the next target and tries to save them.
However, at one point, Nambi meets the next victim in a cemetery but fails to warn her not to repeat her daily rituals or habits. Predictably, she dies before him, in front of the media. This scene had the potential to be the emotional high point of the film, but the writing feels rushed, missing the emotional weight that such a moment demands.
Selvaraghavan’s Azhagar is written with ambition, a killer who sees himself as an artist, a philosopher consumed by rage. Yet the performance feels restrained, as though the actor never fully embraces the madness the role demands. Much like the Joker in the Batman films, Azhagar blames society for shaping his downfall. In the latest Joker films, we saw how a failed stand-up comedian breaks under pressure and reinvents himself as a symbol of chaos.

Once confined within Arkham Asylum, his madness spreads beyond him, and society begins to breed its own versions of the Joker, turning delusion into rebellion. Azhagar belongs to that same lineage of characters—individuals born out of neglect and humiliation, who return to haunt the very society that dismissed them. When the social order grows too proud of its progress, it teeters on the edge of collapse, waiting for someone like Azhagar or Joker to give it a final push. He is not merely a psychopath; he is a reflection of the world’s failures, a mirror held up to the cruelty of indifference.
Vishnu Vishal, on the other hand, does his part with conviction, though the screenplay gives him little room to stretch beyond familiar territory. His heroic fight scenes are not part of the film’s ecosystem. “Aaryan” (2025) aims to be a crime thriller with a larger question: why does society celebrate only successful, popular people and neglect the poor and helpless common man?
The idea has merit, but the screenplay’s uneven pacing and underdeveloped subplots dilute its impact. The film struggles to justify its core idea, resorting in the final scene to a direct explanation of the message it wants the audience to take home. Without it, one could easily mistake the film as implying that every ordinary person who fails to rise should take revenge through violence.
It’s a film filled with moments of promise that never quite reach their potential. In the end, “Aaryan” (2025) remains an intriguing attempt at blending psychology, media commentary, and crime drama. It wants to provoke thought about the cost of failure in a competitive world, but its storytelling lacks the precision needed to make that idea resonate fully. Despite its flaws, “Aaryan” (2025) deserves credit for trying to bring purpose and introspection to a genre that often relies solely on thrills. In the end, this thriller keeps us guessing, both about its purpose and its promise, while managing to hold our attention.
