Dilruba, the directorial debut of Viswa Karun, comes across as a film with heart—but not quite the storytelling finesse to match it. With striking visuals, emotionally charged music, and a romance at its core, it has the right ingredients for a compelling love story. However, its insistence on reducing life’s complexities into overused philosophical quotes ultimately leaves it feeling more like a motivational podcast than a layered cinematic experience.
The story follows Siddharth (Kiran Abbavaram), a stubborn and emotionally bruised young man, reeling from a painful breakup with Maggie (Kathy Davison). Scarred by the trauma of her family, he develops a bizarre aversion to the words “sorry” and “thank you.” As he seeks a fresh start in Mangalore, Anjali (Rukshar Dhillon) enters his life—vibrant, persistent, and genuinely interested in him. Their romance slowly blossoms, but Siddharth’s emotional rigidity threatens to derail their bond. Can love soften his pride, or will his past keep him stuck?
Dilruba tries hard to be deep, peppering its dialogues with quotes like “Strong men don’t have attitude, they have character” and “Life revolves around two words: sorry and thank you.” But rather than feeling insightful, these lines often land like WhatsApp forwards. Karun seems heavily influenced by filmmaker Puri Jagannadh’s philosophical style, but instead of grounding those ideas in the narrative, the film frequently pauses to lecture, turning what could be moving drama into a sermon.
Clearly aimed at a younger audience, Dilruba misjudges what resonates with them. Instead of exploring relatable emotions through meaningful storytelling, it tries to simplify life lessons into one-liners. The result? It feels more like a self-help session than a romance. Today’s audiences crave authenticity, not spoon-fed wisdom—and that’s where the film falters.
Despite its flaws, Dilruba delivers a few genuinely powerful moments. The interval fight sequence—arguably Kiran Abbavaram’s best action scene yet—is elevated by Sam CS’s electrifying score. Daniel Viswas’s cinematography is equally commendable, giving the rom-com setting a refreshing aesthetic. A creatively shot action scene with a mounted camera stands out as a technical highlight.
Kiran Abbavaram shows promise, especially in physical scenes, though his emotional range and vocal delivery still need refinement. In contrast, Rukshar Dhillon is effortlessly charming as Anjali—bold, self-assured, and emotionally intelligent. Her character is refreshingly well-written, with moments of real agency, particularly when she calls out Siddharth’s behavior. This balance of mutual respect is rare in mainstream romantic films, and it’s one of Dilruba’s strongest assets.
There are sparks of thoughtful writing in how Anjali is portrayed. Her pursuit of Siddharth feels grounded, not gimmicky. Their dynamic offers a respectful take on consent and modern relationships. However, just as these layers begin to emerge, the film backpedals into a sea of clichés and predictable emotional resolutions.
Rating: ★★☆☆☆ (2/5)
Dilruba has its moments—visually stylish, occasionally intense, and emotionally resonant in parts. But its heavy-handed messaging and simplistic life lessons drag it down. It’s a film that wants to inspire but often ends up preaching. For viewers seeking a deeper exploration of love, trauma, and personal growth, Dilruba might feel like a missed opportunity. Still, for fans of dramatic flair and standout visuals, it might just be worth a watch—with tempered expectations.
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