There is something almost inevitable about Drishyam: The Conclusion arriving in theatres on 2 October. The date has been woven so deeply into the mythology of Vijay Salgaonkar and his family it seems to belong, at least partly, to this fictional alibi. In the third and final chapter of Abhishek Pathak’s Hindi-language franchise, the familiar date returns, as does the question that has followed Vijay (Ajay Devgn) since 2015: can he stay one step ahead of the law?
Six months after the events of the second film, Meera Deshmukh (Tabu) and her husband Mahesh (Rajat Kapoor) are still living with the loss of their son, Sam. The case of his death, however, has been closed. The Salgaonkar family has moved on, but Meera has not. Her need for justice has been replaced by a desire for revenge. When a senior police officer reveals that new evidence has surfaced, the fragile truce ruptures. The case is reopened, and Vijay once again finds himself being hunted.
What changes this time is the nature of the hunt. Drishyam: The Conclusion, with a screenplay by Pathak, Aamil Keeyan Khan and Parveez Shaikh, is less a family thriller than a police procedural that gradually turns into a courtroom drama. There are new investigators, lawyers, and some old accomplices, with the narrative continually shifting between those trying to reconstruct what happened and Vijay, who has spent years anticipating precisely this moment.
The film returns to Goa, where the Salgaonkar family’s story has always unfolded, but the familiar landscape feels more watchful this time. The background score by Amar Mohile works hard to build suspense and keep the tension simmering, sometimes pushing the mood a little too insistently. Still, it adds to the sense that Vijay’s carefully constructed world is beginning to close in around him.
Jaideep Ahlawat’s Rajveer Singh Tomar, the new SP of the Crime Branch, is the most invigorating addition. Menacing without having to raise his voice, Rajveer is dogged, and Ahlawat gives the character an alertness that makes every encounter with Vijay crackle. The scenes featuring him are easily the film’s most enjoyable.
Prakash Raj, as public prosecutor Indrajith Shetty, brings a louder energy to the proceedings. Shetty understands how to manipulate the machinery of the law, and Prakash Raj clearly enjoys the opportunity to play the courtroom game. His performance eventually becomes almost gleeful, though the film itself begins to flag around the two-hour mark. The twists keep coming, but the elaborate plotting starts to feel like an exercise in tying up every possible loose end. Goa sometimes feels more like a backdrop than an integral part of the story. A scene involving protesters outside a church, for instance, feels particularly disconnected from the texture of the setting.
Ajay Devgn remains almost unnervingly still, but by now that stoicism has become integral to the character. Vijay’s poker face is his armour. He is the puppeteer—the man who quietly believes he is several moves ahead while everyone around him assumes they are calling the shots. Devgn’s restraint works because Vijay’s greatest weapon is never revealing what he is thinking. He isn't simply trying to outwit the police. He has spent years—and three films—constructing a world in which everyone else believes they are making decisions, while he is quietly moving the pieces.
Tabu has a more limited role than in the earlier films, even though Meera is the catalyst for the reopening of the case. Devgn, Shriya Saran (as Nandini Salgaonkar), Ishita Dutta (as the older daughter Anju), Mrunal Jadhav (as younger daughter Anu), Tabu, Rajat Kapoor and Kamlesh Sawant (as officer Gaitonde) are among the returning cast who have carried these characters from 2015 to 2026. That continuity gives the trilogy a sense of the passage of time that many Hindi film franchises lack.
The film also retains the central tension that has always made Drishyam more than a conventional crime thriller: who gets to define guilt and innocence? On one side are educated professionals, fancy degrees and institutional power. On the other is a self-made man whose greatest resources are street smarts, an encyclopedic memory of popular cinema and an almost ferocious instinct to protect his family.
There are stretches when Drishyam: The Conclusion feels over-engineered, and its 150-minute running time eventually begins to tell. But Pathak understands that the audience has come not merely to watch Vijay escape, but to watch how he might possibly do it this time. The film provides the kind of closure its premise demands. It is not without its excesses, but it knows its audience, trusts the accumulated mythology of Vijay Salgaonkar and, crucially, gives him one last game to play.
‘Drishyam: The Conclusion’ is in theatres.
Udita Jhunjhunwala writes about cinema, art and contemporary culture.