Riddho Roy

Pyre (2024) throws you straight into the heart of Kolkata, where the air’s thick with secrets and the city’s got as many shadows as alleys. Riddho Roy, one of those actors who can say a million things with just a look, is tangled up in a story that’s all smoke and mirrors—literally and metaphorically. There’s a fire, yeah, but it’s not just about flames. It’s about what burns inside people, what they’re willing to torch to protect what matters, or what they can’t let go of. The movie kicks off with a death—sudden, raw, and weirdly poetic. The kind of passing that leaves everyone looking over their shoulders, wondering who’s next. Roy’s character? He’s caught between guilt and revenge, stumbling through this maze of family ties, old friendships gone sour, and traditions that feel more like chains than comfort. There’s this undercurrent of superstition and rituals, the old clashing with the new, and you can almost smell the incense and hear the city breathing. The camera work? Gritty. Close-ups that make you squirm. Lots of neon, lots of rain, and everything feels sweaty and claustrophobic. As the plot unravels, everyone’s got something to hide, and trust is a rare currency. The climax? It’s not the explosion you expect, but more of a slow, smoldering burn that leaves you picking up the pieces long after the credits roll. It’s messy, human, and totally unforgettable.