Beast

When I first watched Beast, I didn’t go into it expecting anything particularly deep or emotional. I knew it was going to be a mass-action entertainer simply because it starred Vijay, and his movies always come with a certain level of high-energy expectation. But as I settled in and the story started unfolding, I realized that my feelings about the film were more layered than I anticipated. Watching Beast wasn’t just about seeing big action sequences or catchy dance numbers—although those were definitely part of the fun. It was also about how the film made me respond emotionally, how it kept surprising me, and how certain moments stayed with me even after the movie ended.

The movie begins by introducing Veera Raghavan, an elite RAW agent. Right from the opening scene I felt a rush of energy because the film throws you into a high-stakes atmosphere that sets the tone immediately. The intensity, the quick movements, and the sudden explosion of action made me sit up straighter. I remember thinking, “Okay, this movie is not wasting any time.” And that feeling carried through the rest of the film. I felt a constant sense of thrill, as if I was strapped into a ride that refused to slow down.

One of the first emotional reactions I had was admiration—not just for Veera as a character but for the way Vijay portrayed him. There is a calm aggressiveness in his performance that made me feel both intimidated and impressed. He carries himself with a quiet confidence that pulls you in. The way he looks at danger with a kind of fearless boredom made me laugh at times, because it was such an exaggerated but enjoyable form of heroism. I felt myself rooting for him early on, not because the story demanded it but because his screen presence made it almost automatic.

As the story transitioned into the mall hostage situation, my feelings shifted from excitement to curiosity. I actually love films that confine action to a specific space because it forces the narrative to become more creative. Watching the characters trapped inside the mall created this sense of enclosed tension. Even though I knew it was fiction, I could almost feel the claustrophobia of the setting. I kept thinking about how terrifying it would be if something like that happened in real life. The film made me imagine the fear of innocent people stuck in an impossible situation, which added emotional weight to the scenes.

And then there was Anirudh Ravichander’s music. The background score constantly pulled me back into the high-energy vibe whenever I drifted into my thoughts. “Arabic Kuthu” especially gave me a sudden burst of joy the first time it appeared. The song didn’t just play; it arrived with so much color and rhythm that I felt myself smiling without realizing it. There is something so infectious about the choreography and the tune that it instantly lifted my mood. Even now, whenever I hear it, I remember the vibrant visuals and that sense of spontaneous happiness.

Another part that affected me emotionally was the relationship between Veera and the hostages. Even though most of their interactions were lighthearted or humorous, there was still an underlying sense of responsibility in the way Veera protected them. At times, the comedic moments felt almost like a coping mechanism the characters were using to handle fear. Watching them joke around despite being in danger made me think about how people often use humor to stay sane during tense moments. It added a layer of relatability to the film.

Of course, Beast is packed with exaggerated action sequences—gravity-defying stunts, stylish slow-motion shots, and moments designed purely to make the audience cheer. But instead of rolling my eyes, I found myself enjoying how unapologetically dramatic it all was. The absurdity was part of the charm. There were scenes where I thought, “This is absolutely impossible,” yet I was grinning the entire time. That’s when I realized that the movie made me feel like a kid again, excited by the sheer coolness of a hero who seems undefeatable.

At the same time, there were moments when I felt the emotional weight of Veera’s internal struggles. His trauma from the failed mission shown at the beginning stayed with him through the story. Even though the film doesn’t dwell deeply on that emotional angle, the glimpses we get reveal that he’s not just a stylish fighter—he’s someone carrying guilt, fear, and responsibility. Whenever these quieter moments appeared, I felt a momentary pause from the otherwise loud tone of the film. Those scenes made me appreciate the character more because they showed that beneath all the swagger and confidence, there was vulnerability.

The humor in the film made me feel surprisingly lighthearted. Some jokes landed perfectly, especially the ones that played off the chaos and confusion of the hostage situation. I found myself laughing at moments I didn’t expect to laugh. The supporting characters, with their quirky personalities and reactions, added a sense of realness to the scenario. Their panic, confusion, and occasional stupidity somehow made the whole situation feel more human. It reminded me that even in stressful circumstances, people remain flawed, funny, and emotional.

As the film progressed toward its climax, the tension rose steadily. The build-up was crafted to keep the audience guessing how Veera would outsmart the terrorists. During these scenes, I felt a mixture of excitement and anticipation. Even though I knew the hero would win—it’s a commercial film after all—the thrill came from seeing how he would do it. The action choreography, combined with the cinematography, created moments that made me lean forward unconsciously. I could feel my heartbeat slightly speeding up during certain scenes, especially when Veera was walking straight into danger as if it meant nothing.

The final showdown gave me a sense of satisfaction. It wasn’t just the victory itself but the style with which it was achieved. The hero walking away harmless while chaos erupts behind him created one of those cinematic moments designed purely for emotional impact, and it worked. I felt that familiar sense of hero-worship, the kind that only mass entertainers can deliver so effectively.

What I appreciated most about Beast was that it never pretended to be something it wasn’t. It embraced its own identity. It aimed to entertain, and it succeeded. It delivered laughs, thrills, tension, and style—all wrapped in a package that felt fun and energizing. I didn’t walk away from the film with deep philosophical thoughts, but I did walk away with a good mood and a smile. Sometimes, that’s exactly what a movie needs to do.

When the credits finally rolled, I thought back on how the movie made me feel overall—entertained, energized, amused, and surprisingly connected to some of the characters. Beast may not be a perfect film, but it’s an experience filled with emotion, excitement, and vibrant energy.