Vritta

the audience into a long, disorienting night drive through a forest. Conceived as an experiment in mood and minimalism, it often slips into confusion, repetition, and emotional detachment. Likith Kumar leans heavily on abstraction and interiority, prioritizing atmosphere over narrative clarity. Technically, the film is far more assured: Gowtham Krishna’s cinematography extracts genuine tension from the night and forest, using darkness, still frames, and headlight beams to craft an oppressive, solitary environment. The sound design and background score are standout elements, layering subtle noises and pulses that nearly carry the story on their own, even when the script falters. Vritta aims to be felt rather than solved, circling themes of fear, guilt, debt—both emotional and financial—and the sensation of being trapped within one’s own mind. Its circular structure, fragmentary flashbacks, and absence of exposition appear intended to mirror the protagonist’s fractured psyche rather than deliver a conventional thriller. Yet the line between purposeful psychological opacity and narrative sloppiness is often crossed, leaving what could have been a disturbing character study feeling more like an underwritten script cloaked in vagueness.