96 (2018)

96 is special because it treats first love not as a melodramatic lightning bolt, but as a quiet weather system that can follow you for decades—beautiful, bittersweet, and strangely comforting. C. Prem Kumar directs with a gentle hand, letting small glances, half-finished sentences, and the ache of remembered places do the heavy lifting, while Vijay Sethupathi and Trisha give performances so natural you feel like you’re eavesdropping on something private. The vibe is tender and nostalgic, wrapped in soothing music and the warm texture of old classrooms, rainy streets, and conversations that circle what can’t be said out loud. If you want big twists or high drama, this may feel too restrained, but if you’re open to a romance that lingers like a favorite song you haven’t heard in years, 96 is quietly devastating in the best way.

96 is aiming for a tender, lived-in portrait of first love and the ache of “what if,” built almost entirely on mood, memory, and two people finally saying the things they never did. If you need plot momentum, big twists, or clear-cut closure, this will feel feather-light and sometimes painfully slow, because it’s mostly long conversations and lingering nostalgia rather than dramatic incident. The upside is that Vijay Sethupathi and Trisha carry it with warmth and restraint, and the film nails that quietly devastating feeling of time slipping away. Watch it when you’re in the mood to sit with emotion and atmosphere; skip it if you want romance that moves fast or lands with a punchy payoff.