It’s a premise that promises the chaotic energy of a lads’ night out meets a cold sweat at 3 a.m. Three friends, a mountain of borrowed cash, and a lender whose patience runs thinner than a pirated DVD. On paper, M.R.P (Neekentha Naakentha) - which translates to asking, “What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine?” - should have been a nail-biting ride through the underbelly of Hyderabad’s start-up dreams. It hit theatres on July 17, 2026, with a runtime of 144 minutes that feels less like a sprint and more like a long, uncomfortable queue at a government office.
The setup is vintage Tollywood comfort food. Three roommates - played with earnest energy by Naresh Agastya and Chaitu Jonnalagadda, alongside the reliably frantic Rajkumar Kasireddy - decide that the path to riches is paved with someone else’s money. They borrow from a shadowy financier, expecting a quick turnover. Their business plan, unsurprisingly, collapses faster than a house of cards in a cyclone. Now, they owe a sum they can’t possibly repay to a man who doesn’t accept apologies, only interest. The danger doesn’t so much creep in as it barrels through the door, and the film’s central tension asks a simple question: can brains beat brawn when the clock is ticking down?
Directed by Shravan Jesta, the film aspires to balance the light-hearted banter of roommate life with the grim stakes of a loan shark’s ledger. The comedy is largely carried by the veteran Vennela Kishore, whose impeccable timing provides a few genuine chuckles early on. Nanda Gopal and Prudhviraj lend gravitas as the antagonists, their presence suggesting a menace that the screenplay unfortunately struggles to sustain. Donal Bisht and Sneha Singh do what they can with underwritten roles, serving as emotional anchors in a sea of testosterone-fueled panic.
Here’s where the trouble begins, and it’s not just the couple having a bad night at the theatre. The critical consensus has been brutal, and the numbers don’t lie. TMDb scores the film at a dismal 3 out of 10, while IMDb sits just slightly higher at 3.3. This isn’t a case of a misunderstood gem; it’s a film that trips over its own tonal seesaw. The first half meanders through predictable roommate comedy - unpaid rent, romantic misunderstandings, and the obligatory “we’re broke” montage. Then, the thriller element kicks in, but instead of tightening the screws, the narrative slackens further.
The pacing is the primary culprit. A 144-minute runtime for a story this thin feels like an exercise in endurance. Scenes drag on well past their punchline, and the thrilling chases are often replaced by long stretches of dialogue that repeat the same point: they’re in trouble, and they’re scared. The comedy and the thriller never mesh; they merely alternate, leaving the audience whiplashed between a silly joke and a violent threat that feels jarringly out of place.
What saves the film from being a complete disaster is Agastya’s earnest commitment. He sells the desperation of a young man who has bet everything on a losing horse. His chemistry with Jonnalagadda feels authentic; you believe these two have shared a fridge and a rent dispute for years. However, their intelligence, as required by the plot, oscillates wildly. At one moment, they’re devising clever ruses to deceive their pursuers; the next, they make decisions so monumentally stupid that you wonder how they remember to breathe.
The technical aspects don’t offer much relief. The background score tries hard to signal when you should be nervous and when you should laugh, but it often feels like it’s scoring a different movie entirely. Cinematography is functional, and the songs, thankfully, are kept to a minimum, understanding that nobody is dancing when they’re about to get their legs broken.
So, is there an audience for this? Perhaps those who enjoy watching familiar faces stumble through a half-baked plot might find a matinee distraction. But for the discerning viewer expecting a slick, black-comedy thriller in the vein of a modern classic, M.R.P is a miss. Shravan Jesta shows an understanding of his actors, but the script needed several more drafts to sharpen its wit and deepen its peril. It’s the kind of film you’d watch on a lazy Sunday with low expectations, only to switch off halfway through to check cricket scores.
The premise of debt and friendship is evergreen, but this execution fails to capture the hilarity or the horror inherent in the situation. The lender is scary, yes, but the path to survival is paved with contrivance. By the climax, the resolution feels less like a clever victory and more like an exhausted surrender. For a film titled Neekentha Naakentha, the answer, unfortunately, is that the audience gets more disappointment than delight. It’s a cautionary tale - not about loan sharks, but about squandering a great setup with lazy storytelling.
