The trailer for Kaantha, the multilingual period drama set in the glamorous and treacherous world of 1950s Madras cinema, drops like a reel of film unspooling into flames—intense, nostalgic and full of raw ambition that can either make legends or burn them to ashes. Directed by debutant Selvamani Selvaraj, this film about the highs and lows of stardom is 2:47 minutes long and is Guru and Black Narcissus in equal measure, but set in the sweat drenched studios of post independence India. With a release date of November 14, 2025, the trailer has already created a frenzy and is positioning Dulquer Salmaan not just as a leading man but as the matinee idol reborn. Produced by Wayfarer Films and Spirit Media, Kaantha promises to dissect the myth making machinery of early Tamil cinema and if this trailer is anything to go by it’s going to be a blockbuster that honours the past and rips apart its hypocrisies.
Starting with the line “A narrative determines the moment of its reveal” the trailer plunges us into the heart of Madras’s cinema scene where monochrome aspirations meet colourful characters. Archival footage of bustling cinemas and clapperboards gives way to reimaginings: horse drawn carriages clattering by constructed sets, lighting technicians under rainy skies, leading ladies in silk saris practicing their dance moves in sync with vinyl records. Under Selvaraj’s direction and Dani Sanchez-Lopez’s sepia-toned visuals the period is recreated – the sound of wooden reels turning, cigarette smoke in the editing suites and the city coming alive with the magic of film. Jhanu Chanthar’s score weaves in Carnatic music of the era with orchestral flourishes. It goes from gentle to loud and highlights the emotional ups and downs in the trailer. It’s a nostalgic tribute to a bygone era but with discord underlying the beauty.
Dulquer Salmaan holds court on the screen as Chandran - a would-be star on the rise - being ruthlessly pushed by the overbearing influence of Ayya (Samuthirakani); their guru-shishya relationship however quickly turns sour and into a Shakespearean tale of betrayal. Salmaan's transformation is nothing short of jaw-dropping: he looks the part of a bygone superstar - slick hair & pristine veshtis - and absolutely owns the dance floor in a wet song sequence that makes you feel like you're back in the grandeur days of Sivaji's rule. But it's really the depth of vulnerability that gets to you - Chandran's initial giddy excitement at his first moment in the spotlight turns to a haunted intensity as he gets dragged down by jealousy & the blossoming of a forbidden romance amidst the chaos. The emotional payoff is a stunning close-up shot: Salmaan's eyes, dark-rimmed & blazing with fury as he stumbles on to a devastating revelation; his jaw clenched in a silent scream which lets out all the anger he's been bottling up after being betrayed by the very people who used to give him his big break in the art of acting. Hot off the success of Lucky Baskhar Salmaan doesn't let that charm he's got coast - he takes it to a whole new level and shows off his range in roles in biopics & period pieces like Sita Ramam or Mahanati. Here he's not just "acting" - he's not just playing the part , he's bringing back to life a bygone star of the silver screen - & what you see is stardom that truly knows no bounds.
The ensemble orbits Salmaan's Chandran like a chaotic bunch of planets in a tempestuous solar system. Samuthirakani's Ayya towers over the rest - his deep-throated voice is booming out like a bit of a dictator in a poster that totally spells out his character - some Tamil version of a patriarch from There Will Be Blood, who moulds his protégé with his tough-love approach that ends up twisting into a full-blown tyranny. Bhagyashri Borse steps into the enigmatic role of the love interest - her shinning eyes and the way she holds her own in a hushed-up meeting scene suggest a woman stuck between worship and looking out after herself, and the spark flying between her and Salmaan is like a roll of exposed film. Rana Daggubati slips into the picture in a key supporting role - gives the vibe of a shady business deal going down as a producer with a hidden agenda, his brooding presence in those boardroom meetings adds a load of corporate backstabbing to the personal feuds. Even the briefest glances at the trailer gives you the feel that this world's been lived in: street kids mobbing the cinema as if it's the latest big hit, a young scribbler pouring over scripts in the middle of the night, all of which reinforces the film's main point that cinema isn't made all by itself, it's battled out in the fire of human weakness.
With excess and extravagance all around, the Kaantha trailer stands out for its unflinching focus on just how complicated ambition can get. Selvaraj dives headfirst into the seedy underbelly of the era - the snobbish whispers of caste in casting calls, the way actresses were reduced to commodities, and the ego-driven implosions that spawned and destroyed stars - all without a smidge of sanitized nostalgia getting in the way. Adarsh Ravu's editing is precision-tight, cutting between the euphoric highs of a movie premiere crowd chanting along to the title and the gut-wrenching lows of a dressing room mirror being smashed with a bloodied fist. The result is a rhythm that perfectly captures the unpredictable, heart-pounding beat of fame. Tracks like "Panimalare" and "Rage of Kaantha" are like little teasers that you just can't get out of your head - even though you can't quite put your finger on why their hooks seem so familiar. The trailer's breakneck pace doesn't get everything out there - Chandran's fall from grace remains a mystery - but that's by design, leaving viewers to figure it out for themselves and join the puzzle of a life lived for the spotlight.
In Kaantha, Selvaraj and Salmaan aren't just telling a story; they're reclaiming one, illuminating the unsung architects of Indian cinema's soul. This trailer doesn't merely preview a film—it reignites the fire of why we fall for movies in the first place: for the illusions that reveal uncomfortable truths. As the screen fades on Chandran's defiant silhouette against a burning backdrop, you're left hungry for the full unraveling. November 14 can't come soon enough—because in the world of Kaantha, the show must go on, even if it consumes everything in its path.