Pongala

that modern cinema spent two decades happily burying. The writing feels astonishingly lazy, with attempts at punchy, alpha‑male “mass” dialogues so weak they verge on unintentional comedy. Instead of exuding menace, the villains collapse into absurd caricatures. Even within such a poorly written script, Sreenath Bhasi commits physically to the action choreography, striving to maintain a stoic, brooding presence. His effort, however, cannot salvage the film’s structural flaws. On the whole, Pongala is a shoddily conceived, loud, and chaotic mess that contributes nothing new to the gangster genre—trading originality and craft for recycled nostalgia and empty spectacle.