‘418’ movie review: Chaitra J Achar shines in a promising but half-hearted horror saga

Produced by Prashanth Neel and directed by Kirtan Nadagouda, this horror film has a terrific beginning and striking technical craft, but eventually loses steam

Updated - October 23, 2026 03:50 pm IST

Chaitra Achar in the film | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement

How much do our horror films love the sight of a traumatised woman walking with a pair of anklets, creeping her targets out with a slow, haunting lullaby? Yet, clichés aside, 418, the Telugu film backed by Prashanth Neel and helmed by his associate Kirtan Nadagouda, owes its initial freshness to the medical college setting in Vedagiri, Karnataka.

The campus backdrop lends itself to rebellion and adventure organically, where the characters are more often than not waiting to get into trouble. The typical haunted mansion is replaced by a boys’ hostel, formerly a mental asylum shut down after a ghastly event. ‘Strictly women not allowed,’ reads a barricade at its entrance.

There is an inside joke in the hostel that the stern security guard would not even allow a female mosquito in, preventing any chance of a malaria outbreak. Birds and animals also avoid the premises. Set against the backdrop of 2020 and early COVID-19 fears, the story follows the introverted Vivek Shankar (Surya Raj Veerabathini) as he moves into a hostel room adjacent to the cursed, titular Room 418.

The nerves of the new joinees, the bonhomie, the animosity with the seniors, and their brush with freedom are contrasted well with the eeriness in their vicinity. They reside in a hamlet, cut off from the outside world, and are vulnerable and impulsive — ideal ingredients for a chilling mystery.

The film resorts to the most obvious of jump scares, using the jittery sound design to build curiosity around the haunted site, but some of the editing transitions are truly imaginative. A pivotal character is left hanging mid-air, the objects in his room fly out of nowhere, and few around him are willing to buy his eerie claims.

However, what stands out at least in the first half is its raw, slow-burn anxiety. Viewers do not know what the storyteller is after. The grainy visual texture, mirroring the carefree early adulthood in a laid-back village with a smattering of pastel colours and the dim lighting in the night sequences, are a sight to behold.

There are hints of a drug-induced hallucination, visions of a yakshagana, a blossoming romance, where personal anxieties collide with the supernatural with a dash of innovation. While it cleverly reimagines the most integral tropes of the genre, it eventually falls prey to the stereotype.

A relatively primitive backstory around the female victim starts on a promising note — where the yakshagana tradition works as an allegory to condemn the pressures around motherhood. The tale pointing to the origins of Krishna, revolving around Devaki and Kamsa, puts this message across convincingly.

Yet, the director keeps cutting back to the present, employing several reaction shots to build anticipation (perhaps the KGF syndrome?). The growing insecurities of a newly married woman and the internalised misogyny of her female counterparts gradually translate into an unhinged rage, unleashing the demon within her.

The visual motifs, from creepy mirror shots to masks and stage fires, alongside underlying themes of caste and class discrimination are certainly worthy of exploration, especially in an era where women in mainstream cinema are so often reduced to mere carriers of offspring opposite hyper-masculine leads.

Unfortunately, this brutal critique of social ills resolves into a rather prolonged, ineffective finish. Vivek, who initially anchors our journey into the mystery, is unceremoniously cast aside. A clash among the students, compounded by the fury of the ghost amid a lockdown, is a fabulous idea for a climax, though the execution doesn’t complement it.

The inherent tension of a female presence inside a boys’ hostel is never fully capitalised upon, and the twists linking the ghost’s past to the present feel unearned. What begins as an inventive reimagining ultimately succumbs to repetitive tricks and an abrupt landing.

418 boasts clear technical merits, particularly in a first half that taps into the viewer’s psyche without abandoning genre staples. The impact is visceral when it dabbles with the unknown, backed by the solid setup, Dinesh Divakaran’s cinematography, and the edits by Akul Avinash.

The minimalistic styling and compactness of the setting are a bonus. Composer Venky GG and sound designer Anupam C do a lot of heavy lifting even as the writing falls short. While placing Telugu-speaking characters in small-town Karnataka feels novel, the cross-cultural integration could have been more seamless.