Movie Review: “Bomb” is a witty whisper for a change

"Arjun Das showed up on the big screen—and just like that, my nine-month blogging silence was broken."

I just stepped into 27 a few days back, and what better way to mark the beginning than with Bomb—the very first film I watched in theatres post-birthday. And guess what? Arjun Das gifted the screen with one of his works on my birthday. Talk about destiny! (smirks)

Watching Arjun Das movies in theatres has become a quiet ritual for me; it is more of a pact born out of admiration since Kaithi (2019). Every release feels like a celebration, and this time, I kept my promise. So yes, when my parents asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I gave a sly smile and asked them to accompany me to the movie. To my surprise, my dad agreed to come along. For someone who never really understood my craze for entertainment and is probably irked by my unabashed admiration for Arjun Das, it was HUGEEE. We were planning to hit the theatre on the 13th, and by then I was already updated with the pages of reviews and criticisms. As much as I wanted to support the star and the director's effort, taking Dad into a cinematic experiment was risky business. (Never try this at home) His patience isn’t exactly built for theatrical adventures.

I literally begged my mom to come with me cause she is much easier to convince. But with Dad, I still have no clue what makes a film earn his stamp of approval. Eventually, we booked our seats for the 1:00 pm show, and what happened next is why we have this blog post.

The Movie (Spoiler Alert):

The movie introduces us to a quaint, fictional village, Kaalakammaipaati - a place known for rich resources, peaceful coexistence and spiritual traditions. The natives enjoy a harmonious living until a sudden plague strikes them and shakes their spiritual beliefs. As faith turns into doubt, the village splits into two, with each side clinging to its own understanding of truth.

We are soon swept to the present, and the seriousness of the situation sinks in when a diligent IAS officer (Abirami) steps in, hoping to bring both parties to good terms. Though her initiative is genuine, it ultimately goes in vain. Next, we journey alongside Kathiravan (Kaali Venkat), an atheist determined to reunite the divided village and his timid friend, Mani Muthu (Arjun Das). And then came the moment—Arjun Das made his grand entry on a TVS Fifty, and from behind me, a girl let out a spontaneous “Ayeeee!” I couldn’t help but smile and think, “Same, girl. Same.” With dad sitting next to me, I had to try my best to suppress the grin taking over my face every time he AD appeared on screen. 

In the minutes that follow, the film kind of rushes to introduce us to a host of supporting characters with their title cards. Though the characters tend to slip past us in seconds, we are given moments to feel their struggles. Chaos takes a new shape when Kathiravan suddenly passes away and his corpse oddly enough, begins to fart. The villagers steeped in prophecy start believing that it is a sign for the return of their long-awaited deity. 

The film, being a comical drama, tries its best to deal with one of society’s most pressing issues, casteism, with humour and absurdity. When Kaali Venkat and Arjun Das were busy spearheading efforts to address the social issue, Bala Saravanan appeared and gave us the space to giggle at times. 

The rest of the movie revolves around how Kathiravan’s sole dream to bring both the villages together comes true because of his soulless body, and how other minor characters discover themselves in spirituality. 

Movie Highlights

The Perks of the Cast

It is the hotpot of talent that brings the Bomb to life. Seasoned performers like Nassar and Abirami lend gravitas, while faces like Shivathmika, Poovaiyar, and Sylvensten bring raw, unfiltered energy. It’s this blend of experience and novelty that keeps the narrative emotionally rich and deep. One of my personal highlights was seeing Arjun Das and Kaali Venkat reunite on screen. Their presence, first etched into memory through Aneethi, and now finding them navigate this bizarre tale together, was nothing short of delightful.

If I had to pick a subplot that still stays with me, it must be the one featuring Poovaiyar and Sylvensten, the two school-going boys caught between the ideological crossfire. The narrative of how the village leaders’ influence slowly chips away at their innocence felt heartbreakingly familiar. It’s a quiet commentary on how easily young minds can be shaped—or misshaped—by the chaos around them.

Every member of the cast plays their part with precision, weaving emotion even in the most chaotic situations. It is definitely the collective presence that anchors the film, turning moments of laughter into pauses of reflection. 

The Symbolism 

Now, it is time to discuss how Vishal Venkat is skilled in weaving subtle symbolic layers into the movie. Woah! This is my favourite part, being a literature student. 

One of the most apparent symbolic references is the fire, as Mani Muthu states that fire is a divine gift from God, and it is for us to decide whether we use it as light or to light a house to destruction. This is the moral idea on which the movie rests. 

The Little Bird 

One of the film’s subtle yet powerful symbols is a baby bird rescued by Mani Muthu. Initially fragile and vulnerable, the baby bird is placed in a manmade cage by Mani as a gesture of protection. As the story unfolds, the bird grows up, yet when Mani opens the cage, it does not fly. This small scene has a big message to deliver. The moment reflects on how we humans remain within our boundaries even when we outgrow them.  Even when the doors are open, we hesitate to step out—conditioned by fear, habit, or the comfort of confinement.

But on a metaphorical note, the bird becomes a mirror of Kathiravan’s soul. Early in the film, we find Kathiravan criticising the bird for its noisy cries inside the cage, claiming it won’t change anything. Yet ironically, he spends the entire first half of the film voicing his own cries for unity, even as his efforts seem futile.

When Mani Muthu opens the cage and the bird doesn’t fly, it feels as though Kathiravan’s soul is lingering—unwilling to leave a world until it fulfils its purpose. And then, in the film’s final act, when the villagers finally unite to bury Kathiravan, the bird takes flight. It’s a moment of release as Kathiravan’s soul, having witnessed reconciliation, is finally ready to rest.

The Quartet

Next up is the spirited quartet (Arjun Das, Shivathmika, Bala Saravanan, and Priya Venkat), who unite to carry forward Kathiravan’s final wish. Representing the younger generation from both villages, they stand out as voices of reason and broader perspective amidst the surrounding chaos. Though their collective screen time is limited, their chemistry is unmistakable, and I genuinely enjoyed watching their dynamic unfold. 

What also struck me was the authenticity of the female characters, especially Shivathmika’s portrayal. Her role felt grounded and purposeful, and I truly commend the director for crafting a character whose voice carries as much weight and thoughtfulness as the film’s two male protagonists. 

Comic Yet Witty

The humour might have been the selling point of the movie, yet it is the heart of the story that beats through these performances that make us think and reflect. 

Vishal Venkat is a witty man. Period.  I am already aware that most of the established movie critics also agree with me. In Bomb, he dares to tread into one of the most sensitive and volatile terrains of our society: religion. In a world where even questioning religious practices can spark metaphorical World War III, Venkat chooses absurdity as his weapon of choice.

A corpse that farts becomes a catalyst for a spiritual debate and somehow works. Had this been a mellow drama, the message might have drowned in criticisms. But by wrapping his critical thought in comedy, he invites laughter followed by reflection. 

And here is my kicker - the absurdity we find isn’t just about the plot, but it is a mirror to our own nature. We, humans, pride ourselves on being evolved beings towering above the rest of the world. Yet, shake our belief system just a little, and we crumble. The film doesn’t just poke fun at superstition—it quietly asks, Are we really as rational as we think we are?

Take Home

As I wrap up this blog, it’s probably clear—I genuinely enjoyed Bomb. While it may not strike a common viewer as a conventional crowd-puller, the film carries a message that deserves to be chewed on, slowly and thoughtfully. It takes its time, gently nudging us to reconsider the difference between spirituality and religious superstition. Some might argue that the theme has been overused in cinema by now, but the irony is that many still fail to grasp the distinction.

It wouldn’t be surprising if Bomb quietly slips past mainstream attention, waiting for its moment on an OTT platform where viewers can casually stream it from their couches. In an age where our attention spans are trimmed down to 30-second reels and shorts, asking someone to sit through a 2.5-hour film feels almost revolutionary.

There was a time when going to the theatre felt magical—an event in itself. Now, we need flashing reminders just to put our phones away during a screening. In a world so distracted, films like Bomb can be overlooked. But ironically, it’s precisely these kinds of stories rooted in reality, layered with humanity, that deserve our attention and support. Because when directors and actors choose truth over trend, it’s up to us to show up and listen.

Not to sound flattery, but I owe a big thank you to Arjun Das for his choice of scripts. It is because of him that I got to witness layered and meaningful narratives like Bomb. And remember, I took my dad to watch the movie? Guess what? He loved it too! So, THANK YOU!

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If you have watched the movie, do let me know your thoughts in the comments!

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