When I first heard of Kannappa, I chuckled and asked, “Wait… wasn’t that Kattappa’s cousin?” Of course, it wasn’t. But thankfully, I didn’t Google. Hence, I entered the theatre with zero research and a clean slate. Unfortunately, it meant I walked in with expectations and a ticket reserved by 24 Frames. The gap between expectation and experience was the problem, and in this case, it was wide like the landslide-prone road to Manali after a cloud burst.
Let’s get the basics out of the way: Kannappa is a retelling of a powerful legend. Thinna, a tribal hunter and fierce atheist (apparently a reincarnation of Arjuna), stumbles upon a Shiva Linga in the forest. That Linga is none other than the Vayu Linga, or Shiva of the Air, one of the five elemental forms of Lord Shiva. Thinna’s journey from rebellion to unshakable faith is what the film attempts to bring alive. To know the extreme devotion, you will have to watch the movie.
Shiva in the form of Vayu Linga is worshipped at the Srikalahasteeswara temple in Andhra Pradesh. And if you’re in Madurai, walk through the thousand-pillar corridor of the Meenakshi Temple—Kannappa is right there, immortalised alongside other Nayanmars- one of the revered 63 Hindu Saints of Tamil origin. If you didn’t know about him before, this film may spark your curiosity and perhaps some interest in visiting the places and temples related to Kannappa.
But back to the movie.
This isn’t Kannappa’s first dance with cinema. Between 1938 and 1988, he was featured in at least six films. This 2025 version stars Vishnu Manchu in a trilingual production (Telugu, Tamil, Hindi).
The visuals, unfortunately, seem stuck in a time capsule. The VFX leans heavily on ‘80s aesthetics, which would look like child’s play to a digitally aware and literate audience, and the studio shots clash harshly with the beautiful outdoor locations. If your eye can overlook this glaring failure, there is an issue with the story.
Narratively, the film appears uncertain about its purpose. Is it about a violent warrior, a reluctant lover, or a born-again devotee? It tries too hard to strike a balance between the different aspects and gets trapped. The first half is all blood, thunder, and brooding stares; the second half tries to go spiritual but keeps wandering into philosophical monologues that don’t quite land.
Still, there are moments where the film delivers for the audience. Vishnu Manchu delivers a decent enough performance. He lacks depth as a hardened atheist, but his transition into a passionate devotee is earnest but somewhat drawn-out. It is exactly like a piece of chewing gum: the more it stretches, the less flavour it carries, and somewhere, the creative team has been unable to control their appreciation of the craft of storytelling.
But two cameos elevate the film.
Mohanlal as Kiratha (Shiva in disguise) meeting Arjun (the previous incarnation of Kannappa) is a short but classy act. Prabhas, stepping in as Rudra, brings full-on South Indian celestial swagger, and it’s hard not to sit up a little straighter when he is on screen.
Mohan Babu, as Mahadeva Sastry, brings a delicious arrogance—right down to his Agastya DNA—but truly shines in his scenes of realisation and surrender.
Then there’s Akshay Kumar as Shiva. He somehow makes being divinely casual work with a full 32-tooth crooked smile. Kajal Aggarwal as Parvati, sadly, has little to do except hold mythological poses.
The costume department, particularly for the women, seems caught between temple tourism and fantasy cosplay. Shiva trousers seem bought at the Max store, and the unimaginative whites of Devi Parvati against a snow background are the least of the worries.
There is a Liril princess in the waterfall sequence, which unnecessarily stretches into a ritualistic bath before the leading lady (Preity Mukundhan) can offer her prayers to Lord Shiva. And the song and dance in the Hindi version seem ill-fitting – they are more of a Himatwala fame without the matkas and jhatkas.
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Kannappa is not trying to be the next Baahubali. It’s a devotional tale—perhaps meant to spark reverence more than applause. Devotees may find joy in its retelling, and curious tourists might just Google Vayu Linga afterwards. That alone gives the film a purpose.
So, should you watch it? Yes, if only to finally answer, “Who was Kannappa?”—without mixing him up with Kattappa like me. And, sure enough, like me, you may add a trip to the Srikalahasteeswara temple in Andhra Pradesh to your ever-morphing, leaky bucket list.
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