JC: The University Movie Review: Film puts a spotlight on a broken system
JC: The University(3 / 5)
JC: The University Movie Review:
Judicial custody is no longer seen as a place for correction. People are now discussing it as a zone of comfort, access, and influence. Phones circulate freely, drugs find buyers, power takes priority over procedure, and violence is no longer shocking. JC: The University offers a bold exploration of the judicial system and its follies. It doesn’t just expose the issue. It raises a more troubling question: what if the system not only tolerates crime but also teaches it quietly?
Director Chethan Jayram supports this argument with real incidents from Parappana Agrahara and other prisons that often make headlines. His claim is clear. The brutality of jail harms far more than the guilt that exists outside its walls. In this environment, identity gets reduced to reputation. Names like A-Z, Twins, Kavala, and Raaka serve as labels rather than representing individuals. This is a raw, unflinching film where bloodshed and murder are routine rather than sensational.
The film shifts between past, present, and future to highlight one of its key points: Judicial custody is not just a legal space; it acts as an economy. With nearly 6,500 inmates, here, money and influence determine safety, comfort, and survival. Phones get called “dhaba,” signals are exchanged in silence, and illegal activities occur openly, disguised as normal life. Power does not hide; it blends in.
Director: Chethan Jayram
Cast: Surya Prakhyath, Rangayana Raghu, Thriller Manju and Bhavana S Reddy
From the start, the film shows both what has happened and what will happen. News of the murder of a major underworld figure spreads quickly through Bengaluru’s criminal circles before the narrative settles into the present. When violence erupts inside, reactions become divided. Some people grieve, while others celebrate. This divide becomes the film’s moral core. Right and wrong do not collapse loudly. They blur slowly until they feel like the norm. Authority does not vanish inside prison; it shifts hands. Kumari Anna’s control over his territory reflects this internal hierarchy, turning JC into a school without teachers, where survival is the only lesson.
At the center of this system is Madhusudhan, known as Maddy (Surya Prakhyath), a college student living a quiet campus life. He has never imagined Bengaluru’s underworld. Chance and love lead him behind bars, where he loses choice and is forced into a living hell. The film is less focused on the act that lands him there and more on what prison gradually makes of him.
JC clearly understands escalation. Nothing remains minor. A stolen phone, a bruised ego, a moment of anger—every action grows. Violence rarely comes suddenly. It builds up. The film argues that prison does not reduce aggression but rather intensifies it.
Amid the brutality, brief emotional moments appear. Memories of love, family, and ordinary life emerge like fading photographs. A father’s simple wish for his son to live honestly, even with little, cuts through the chaos. These moments do not soften the narrative. They emphasise the loss by revealing what institutional routine gradually erases.
The slogan painted on the prison wall, claiming this is a reform home, feels like bitter irony. JC questions whether prison has stopped being a turning point and become merely a stopover. If access and influence thrive inside, where does real punishment lie?
Narratively, the film presents a strong idea but struggles with momentum. The first half is confident, moving across timelines with clarity. The interval raises expectations. The second half drags, repeating emotional moments instead of strengthening them. A tighter edit could have improved the argument.
Karthik’s cinematography benefits from filming in real prison locations, giving the movie a raw authenticity. The action stays grounded. The background score lacks consistency. Masti’s dialogues stand out, raw and unfiltered, spoken in the language of rowdy-sheeters and hardened inmates. Here, the film finds its strongest voice.
Surya Prakhyath completely sheds his romantic image. In JC, he wields knives and guns, bathes in blood, and embraces violence. A single blow to his cheek becomes the turning point that forces him onto a path he never expected. From there, his descent is steady. Once a lover boy and a cherished son, he turns into a ruthless force, trying to adopt a more mass-focused image.
Bhavana Reddy appears pleasant but needs more development. Rangayana Raghu brings restraint and emotional depth to his role. Several actors playing antagonists, including Thriller Manju, convincingly portray their characters, although the makers could have used Manju more.
JC: The University, a production by Dhananajay, presents no heroes or easy villains. Its characters seem shaped by the system they inhabit. Prison here is not just a setting—it is a force that shapes behaviour. If JC is a university, its syllabus is deeply troubling, and its graduates are already walking free.