After months of delays and anticipation, Peddi has finally landed in theatres. Directed by Buchi Babu Sana and led by Ram Charan, the film promises a big-ticket Telugu drama trying to blend sports, politics, and social identity into one sweeping narrative. The ambition is obvious from the outset. However, the execution is not all that smooth and coherent.
Peddi is set in a forgotten village that doesn’t even have a name, only a population (of Dalits? Why does Telugu cinema sidestep the mention of caste?) struggling to exist on the margins of the system. The people here are unrecorded, unrecognised, and routinely ignored by the state. Their simple demand is a railway station, a symbol of visibility and legitimacy.
Out of this setting rises Peddi (Ram Charan), a labourer with exceptional athletic talent, whose personal journey slowly becomes tied to his community’s fight for identity.
It’s a strong foundation, and for a while, the film holds that promise. But very quickly, Peddi expands far beyond its original shape. What begins as a grounded story about one man and his village gradually stretches into a sprawling mix of sports drama, political commentary, romance, and myth-like heroism.
Cricket, wrestling, and athletics all find their way into the narrative, not as separate phases of growth, but as stacked layers of ambition. The result is an overloaded narrative.
Ram Charan remains the film’s most consistent strength. His performance anchors the chaos around him. He moves through Peddi’s journey with a clear physical transformation, but more importantly, with shifting emotional weight. In the early portions, he plays a reckless, almost wild labourer. As the story progresses, that energy hardens into determination and then into something closer to quiet defiance.
Some of the film’s most effective moments belong entirely to him: the cricket sequence where he realises he’s being played against unfair odds, the emotionally charged scenes tied to his village’s struggle for recognition, and key turning points where Peddi chooses purpose over personal gain.
The film leans heavily on spectacle, often pushing logic to the edge, but Charan’s performance keeps those moments grounded enough to stay engaging.
The emotional core is strengthened by the music of A. R. Rahman. His background score does what the writing sometimes struggles to do: it connects the dots between emotion and scale. Whether the scene calls for triumph, loss, or determination, the music ensures the audience feels the intended weight, even when the storytelling becomes uneven.
Among the supporting cast, Shiva Rajkumar stands out with a performance full of authority and warmth, particularly in his mentorship arc with Peddi. Jagapathi Babu wins your heart as Suri, the villager who moves from pillar to post for the bureaucratic permission for a railway station. Boman Irani, who appears in the framing story involving an Olympic talent search, feels slightly detached from the main emotional thread.
Where Peddi struggles most is in its writing structure. The screenplay tries to juggle too many ideas at once. The sports arcs, the political storyline, the Olympic framing device, and the village’s struggle for identity all compete for attention. Instead of flowing into one another, they often sit side by side without smooth transitions. The film rarely feels slow, but it frequently feels stretched.
There’s also a clear imbalance in character development. The romantic track involving Janhvi Kapoor as Achiyamma is the most problematic part of the film. While the character could have added political and emotional depth, she is instead written in a way that prioritises appearance over substance. Her arc never fully integrates into the larger story, and several scenes reduce her to a decorative presence.
And when will Telugu cinema accord women their agency? Peddi keeps lusting over Achiyamma’s body throughout, even kissing her without her permission. Then goes on to justify it as passion. There is even a horrendous scene where Achiyamma is publicly disrobed — I wonder what was going on in the minds of the writers while coming up with such scenes.
Editing choices further affect the film’s rhythm. Even at over three hours, Peddi doesn’t always feel dull, but it does feel uneven. Some scenes end abruptly just as they begin to build momentum, while others are extended beyond their natural point. This inconsistency in pacing affects emotional impact, especially in the first half.
At its best, Peddi works because it understands emotion more than logic. The story may stretch credibility, but it rarely feels emotionally dishonest. It believes in its hero, and more importantly, it believes in the people he represents. That belief carries it through its roughest patches.