The Netflix series, directed by Dharmaraj Shetty, builds an intriguing world of female rulers and gang warfare. (Img: X)
Mumbai: Keerthy Suresh and Radhika Apte come together in Akka, a crime drama that attempts to turn the conventional gangster universe on its head by placing women at the centre of power. Set in the fictional South Indian kingdom of Pernuru, the series imagines a society where women have controlled its political, economic and social order for nearly eight centuries. Yet, despite its striking premise and an impressive ensemble, the show does not always possess the grit its story demands.
Written and directed by Dharmaraj Shetty, the five-episode series revolves around Bhavani (Keerthy Suresh), who presides over Pernuru alongside the older generation of rulers, including Muthakka (Tanvi Azmi). Their authority is challenged when Rudra (Radhika Apte), an outsider with a dangerous agenda, arrives in the kingdom with plans to dismantle the established order.
What follows is a contest involving power, revenge, loyalty and competing ideas of authority. The conflict becomes particularly interesting because the battle is not simply between two gang leaders but between two women shaped by very different experiences of power.
The series moves between the 1980s and events dating back nearly 800 years, gradually revealing how Pernuru acquired and protected its unusual social structure. Women are permitted to choose their partners but marriage is not part of the arrangement. The community follows its own customs, with female succession and religious traditions forming the foundation of its identity.
The makers deserve credit for attempting to create a world that does not simply reproduce familiar gangster-drama conventions. Pernuru has its own hierarchy, rivalries, customs and power centres. However, the sheer number of characters, family connections and territorial disputes makes the narrative difficult to follow. Just when the viewer begins to understand one conflict, another layer of the kingdom's history enters the picture.
The screenplay takes considerable time to establish its central conflict. Instead of allowing the characters and their motivations to emerge organically, the series frequently relies on lengthy explanations. The result is a story that takes too long to gather momentum. By the time the rivalry reaches its most consequential stage, the season is already approaching its conclusion.
The performances, particularly that of Keerthy Suresh, provide the series with some of its strongest moments.
As Bhavani, Suresh plays a woman who understands that leadership comes with the burden of protecting an entire community. Her authority is rarely expressed through loud declarations. Much of it comes through her controlled expressions, physical presence and the way she occupies a room. As the foundations of her kingdom begin to weaken, the actor brings a vulnerability to the character without diminishing her formidable personality.
Radhika Apte, meanwhile, plays Rudra, whose arrival threatens to upset the existing balance of power. She brings considerable intensity to the role, although the character's potential is not always fully realised. Rudra is conceived as a formidable adversary, but the writing does not consistently give her the psychological depth that such a character demands.
Tanvi Azmi adds weight to the proceedings, while Anshuman Pushkar, Vishak Nair, Anjali Patil and the rest of the supporting cast contribute to the expansive world of Pernuru. Mahesh Manjrekar and Poornima Indrajith are also part of the ensemble.
One of the more noticeable aspects of Akka is its production design. The elaborate residences, traditional costumes, heavy jewellery and carefully constructed period setting give Pernuru a distinctive visual identity. The contrast between the richly adorned women of the kingdom and Rudra's comparatively contemporary appearance also reinforces the differences between the characters and the worlds they represent.
However, the series occasionally seems more interested in creating striking frames than in developing the dramatic situations behind them. Violence is used repeatedly to establish the brutality of the power struggle, but some sequences feel excessive rather than genuinely consequential.
The narrative also draws upon familiar elements of folklore, mythology and the gangster genre. While these influences could have added another dimension to the story, their integration is not always seamless. The result is a series that has several interesting ideas but struggles to give them a cohesive dramatic shape.
The central question of whether a matriarchal society necessarily becomes more equitable simply because women occupy positions of authority is worth exploring. Akka touches upon this contradiction but does not always pursue it with the depth it deserves. Replacing male-dominated power structures with female-controlled ones is not, by itself, a sufficiently developed commentary on gender or social justice.
The five-episode season eventually finds greater urgency as Bhavani's authority comes under pressure and the rival factions move towards confrontation. Yet, the momentum arrives rather late, leaving the larger narrative feeling incomplete.
Akka has the ingredients of an engaging period crime thriller: two accomplished leading actors, an unusual fictional setting, an elaborate visual canvas and an intriguing examination of power through gender. What it lacks is the consistency of storytelling needed to bring these elements together.
Keerthy Suresh gives the series a compelling centre, and the premise holds considerable promise. But the uneven screenplay, overextended world-building and dependence on stylised violence prevent the show from becoming the gripping gangster drama it sets out to be. For all its visual polish and ambitious storytelling, Akka remains a case of considerable potential not entirely translating into impact.
