In Test, now streaming on Netflix, debutant filmmaker S Sashikanth attempts a bold fusion of sports and crime drama centered around a high-stakes cricket match. While the film aims to knock the ball out of the stadium with the winning six, it ultimately feels like a badly mistimed shot in a tense final over that falls well short of its intended boundary.
Test follows the lives of three individuals brought together by the India vs Pakistan match in Chennai. Arjun (Siddharth), an out-of-form cricketer, is desperate to prove himself one last time before retirement. Kumudha (Nayanthara), a schoolteacher, is planning to undergo IVF and start a family. Her husband, Saravanan, aka Sara (R. Madhavan), an MIT graduate pretending to run a canteen, is drowning in debt while working on a secret hydro-fuel project. As their battles unfold, a match-fixing investigation adds further tension. What begins as a story about cricket soon turns into a tale of ambition, lies, and survival.
There’s no lack of ambition in Test, where personal struggles are framed against the backdrop of match-fixing, financial pressure, and ethical and moral compromise. Sara (R. Madhavan) dreams of bringing his hydro-fuel project to life. But he also longs for the stability of a quiet life with his wife, Kumudha (Nayanthara). Kumudha, in turn, is caught between her desire to become a mother and her duty to support her husband’s uncertain pursuits. Arjun (Siddharth), an aging cricketer, must decide whether to fight for one last shot at glory or walk away for the sake of his family. There’s enough drama in these conflicts to build a compelling story. But intent alone doesn’t win the game. The film struggles to create emotional depth. The screenplay, co-written by Sashikanth and Suman Kumar, offers a framework rich with possibility. But the skeleton lacks the necessary flesh to go with it. Scenes often feel like mere exposition – telling us what’s happening, rather than letting us feel it. The early sections drift, establishing the plot without tension, while the finale strains for an emotional payoff it hasn’t quite earned.
The film’s emotional register remains oddly muted. Key scenes – especially those involving Siddharth and Nayanthara – are curiously flat. A lack of modulation, of rise and fall, makes the conflicts in the film feel inert rather than urgent. The same goes for Arjun’s relationship with his wife Padma (Meera Jasmine) and son Aditya (Lirish Rahav). As a result, the characters remain at a distance, their pain and dilemmas never quite hitting home. One is left with the sense of a film that perhaps knows what it wants to say, but hasn’t quite figured out how to say it compellingly.
It is only when Madhavan’s character begins to unravel his darker shades that the film briefly sparks to life, hinting at a more psychologically nuanced story that the rest of the film has only gestures toward. The final thirty minutes show a noticeable uptick in momentum, with the narrative threads finally beginning to tighten and the emotional stakes finding some sort of shape. But by then, the damage is done. The connection between the viewers and the characters – already tenuous – is too weak to carry the weight of this late emotional charge. The film reaches for catharsis, but the groundwork for it is never convincingly laid.
Performance-wise, it is Nayanthara who anchors the film with quiet strength. She inhabits Kumudha with warmth, conviction, and emotional clarity, bringing a lived-in grace to a character torn between desire and responsibilities. Madhavan lends Saravanan a weary charm, portraying a man driven by both idealism and desperation though the script doesn’t always allow him the depth his arc demands. Siddharth’s Arjun, a cricketer clinging to fading glory, shines only during his climactic dilemma when personal ambition collides with paternal responsibility. But while the moment feels dramatically potent, it lacks the necessary buildup to land with full force. Meera Jasmine, as Arjun’s wife Padma, is saddled with a frustratingly underwritten role that deserves more than the reactive glances and token scenes she’s given while supporting actors like Kaali Venkat and Vinay Varma do what they can with limited characterization.
Viraj Singh Gohil’s cinematography does a competent job of reflecting the emotional disquiet of the characters, often favouring restraint over visual excess. The test match sequences, in particular, are shot with a grounded realism – they resist the temptation of over-stylisation, which lends them a certain credibility. However, TS Suresh’s editing undermines the film’s pacing, which lacks precision, making the overall experience feel stretched and sluggish. The sound design by Kunal Rajan is subsumed by Shakthisree Gopalan’s background score, which lacks the tonal clarity and necessary heft needed to elevate the film’s emotional moments.
Test aspires to be a layered exploration of ambition, sacrifice, and personal reckoning, set against the fevered backdrop of a national sport. But despite its promising premise, it ultimately falters in execution. What could have been a gripping character study ends up feeling like a match that promised high drama but fizzled out well before the final over.
Tamil, Thriller, Drama, Sports, Color