Chowkidar Movie Review:
Some films make you laugh, some make you cry, but few leave you quietly unsettled about the nature of love itself. Chowkidar is one such film. After Rathavaara, Chandrashekhar Bandiyappa delivers an intimate, emotionally anchored family drama that examines how love, when stretched too far, can quietly turn corrosive.
The film begins in the quiet home of Prakash Gowda (Sai Kumar), a government employee whose entire life revolves around his son, Siddharth or Siddhu (Pruthvi Ambaar). At first, his affection feels natural, even warm. But small moments hint at something uneasy beneath. When the young Siddhu falls while learning to walk, Prakash reacts with anger instead of concern, directing it at his wife Sudha (Shwetha Vinodhini). The moment lingers. It shows a father who often confuses control with care, a mindset that shapes the story ahead.
As Chowkidar moves forward, Prakash’s parenting slowly slips from guidance into excess. Rules are replaced by excuses, and Siddhu grows up shielded from the weight of his actions. Poor grades are settled with money and influence, emotional confusion is brushed aside, and responsibility is always delayed. The film repeatedly returns to the image of silk farming, used with quiet meaning. Like silk, Prakash’s parenting is built with patience and pride, smooth on the surface, yet fragile. Over time, those fine threads begin to tighten, trapping both father and son in a bond they barely understand.
Director: Chandrashekhar Bandiyappa
Cast: Pruthvi Ambaar, Sai Kumar, Shwetha, Dhanya Ramkumar, Sudharani, Gilli Nata, Dharma, and Muni
Sai Kumar delivers a performance that thrives on contradiction. He is tender yet tyrannical, loving yet destructively blind. The actor carries the emotional weight of the film with lived-in sincerity, particularly in moments when vulnerability quietly surfaces through debt, desperation, and denial. Pruthvi Ambaar complements him with an understated arc, portraying Siddhu as a product of emotional inheritance rather than outright rebellion. His energetic presence in songs and lighter passages maintains commercial accessibility, though the writing occasionally loops through familiar emotional beats before allowing genuine character growth.
The film introduces Chaithra (Dhanya Ramkumar) in the latter half, bringing the possibility of emotional recalibration. While she adds warmth and moral contrast, her character remains narratively functional rather than fully realised, while Shwetha lends quiet emotional strength to the story. Supporting characters, including Dharma as the antagonist, add tension, though Sudharani’s police officer subplot barely influences the core storyline.
Chandrashekar Bandiyappa's shift from mass action to sentiment-driven storytelling is evident. He explores parenting, responsibility, and the fragile reciprocity between parents and children with sensitivity. The film thoughtfully highlights how excessive parental affection can unintentionally create emotional fractures. The first half unfolds at a measured, occasionally sluggish pace before gaining momentum through later twists.
The film is at its strongest when it confronts the uncomfortable truth that unchecked love can mirror neglect. Sachin Basrur’s music complements the emotional beats, though songs occasionally interrupt the flow, and the cinematography remains functional rather than lyrical.
Chowkidar ultimately functions as a familiar yet sincere reminder that parenting is a delicate balance between protection and freedom. For viewers who enjoy family dramas laced with emotional highs and commercial touches, this watchman’s tale might just be one to watch out for.