Hridayam

There’s this one line in the film that hits differently – “There are some moments in life that make you realize what you are living for.” That single sentence captures everything Hridayam is about. This isn’t just a movie about growing up. It’s about those small, seemingly ordinary moments that quietly become the ones that make life worth living.

A Film That Makes You Want More

Here’s the thing – there are some films you wish would just keep going. Hridayam is one of those (and yes, it’s already three hours long). I never once checked my watch. Not because I was distracted, but because I felt completely in sync with the film’s rhythm. The pacing, the range of emotions it pulls out of you, and the characters that connect straight to your heart – it all makes you crave more, even when the credits roll.

The film will make you remember the innocent, naïve, and hopeful version of yourself. We enter Arun’s life just as he joins engineering college, and suddenly we’re reliving it all – first love, life-changing friendships, college ragging, the strange new freedom of living away from parents. Saying “it covers it all” feels like a disservice. The better way to put it? It makes you feel all of it. And that’s exactly why the three-hour runtime flies by.

Growing Up Alongside Arun

The best way to describe Hridayam is this: it captures every emotion we experience as we stumble our way through life. We follow Arun from his days as a directionless engineering student to the moment he becomes a mature young man – shaped by love, loss, mistakes, and everything in between.

And here’s where the film gets you – it brings that sharp realization of how quickly time moves. When Arun says, “How four years have passed in the blink of an eye,” you feel it in your chest. Because you’ve been on this journey with him. You’ve seen his lowest moments – the heartbreak, the failures, the reckless decisions. And you’ve watched him slowly piece himself together. When he finally starts taking his studies seriously, when his photography career begins to flourish, and most importantly, when this irresponsible teen becomes a loving father and husband – you feel proud. Not just of him, but maybe of yourself too.

He makes mistakes. He goes way out of line at times. But you can’t blame him – at some point in our lives, we all make those same mistakes. The magic of Hridayam lies in how it shows that every misstep, every connection made along the way, shapes who we eventually become. And the film captures this beautifully.

The Authenticity

Does this make sense? In our own lives, at some point, we stop and look around. We realize how far we’ve come. We can barely believe we’re the same person we were five, ten years ago. But we aren’t disappointed – we’re actually proud. Proud that we pulled through everything life threw our way. Some problems we solved. Some taught us lessons we didn’t know we needed.

That’s Hridayam.

Sure, the film has some corny scenes. I won’t pretend it doesn’t. But here’s the thing – they only feel corny if you watch them in isolation. Within the full context of the story, with all the emotional weight the film has built, those scenes don’t feel cheesy at all. They enhance the emotions even more. I found myself getting genuinely excited during certain moments. At other times, I felt sad, anxious, happy, and even deeply nostalgic. The film made me feel everything because it never compromises on the authenticity of relationships and human connection.

Performances That Bring It All to Life

And then there’s the acting, which makes this experience all the more worthwhile. Kalyani as Nithya, Darshana, Arun’s best friend Antony, Jimmy – everyone deserves a mention. But the most impressive performance comes from Pranav Mohanlal as Arun. He doesn’t just act through the phases of life – he embodies them. You can see the change in the spark in his eyes. The Arun who first steps into college and the Arun who becomes a father are two completely different people, and Pranav captures these gradual transformations with remarkable subtlety.