Director -  Sujeeth
Cast - Pawan Kalyan, Emraan Hashmi, Priyanka Mohan, Arjun Das, Sriya Reddy and Prakash Raj
Duration – 154 Minutes
  
With months of non-stop build-up, teaser previews, and fan-fiction posters overrunning social media, They Call Him OG—or OG for short—finally arrives in theaters. With Sujeeth as director and Pawan Kalyan back in a full-fledged gangster avatar, the movie offers blood, brawn, and cinematic bravado. Throw in Emraan Hashmi debuting in Telugu as a suave villain and a power-packed supporting cast, and the table's set for a masala entertainer with muscle. But once the dust settles, does OG live up to its mythos? The verdict is a fashionably yes, but a narrative meh.
 
Ours is a gritty backdrop of 90s Mumbai, and OG is a story of Ojas Gambheera (Pawan Kalyan), a notorious gangster-turned-exile who gets pulled into the maelstrom once again as old flame conflicts ignite into violence. Satya Dada (Prakash Raj) loses his son in the brutal killing linked to disappeared explosives at the Mumbai port—lending momentum to Ojas's much-delayed return. Across the turf war on the other side is Omi Bhau (Emraan Hashmi), a smooth but merciless don whose aspirations crash violently into Ojas's legacy. The first half is seething with tension, but soon enough we understand OG is as much myth-making as it is plot development.
 
This is a fanboy-made, fanboy-for movie. Sujeeth's adoration of Pawan Kalyan shows in every slow-motion sequence, every silhouetted entry, and every punchline aimed at rattling the theatre seats. And for that matter, when Kalyan is on screen, it seems to work. He exudes charisma, his action choreography is razor-sharp, and the vintage look endears him. The opening fight scene, the interval block, and that taut katana sequence are all elevated to cult near-status with the help of sheer star power and Thaman's pedal-to-the-metal background score. When Pawan Kalyan draws his blade, the movie forgets its shortcomings—if only for a moment.
 
Emraan Hashmi is a welcome face and slips into the role of Omi Bhau with ease, but he's given frustratingly little to do. His showdowns with Kalyan are missing the venom and depth required for a classic face-off. The tension between them is cosmetic, not earned. In contrast, Sudhev Nair is impressive in his small role, and Sriya Reddy works with what she's given a thinly written character. Priyanka Mohan is wasted, occupying mostly emotional filler space that's never delved into deeper than that.
 
The real nemesis of OG isn’t any villain—it’s the writing. The story is painfully predictable, coasting on tropes we’ve seen dozens of times. The backstory of Ojas feels like an afterthought, and the film misses multiple opportunities to deepen the emotional stakes. While Sujeeth knows how to craft a striking frame, the narrative lacks bite. In an attempt to stay rooted in fan service, the film forgets to surprise—or even challenge—its audience.
 
Visually, OG is excellent. Cinematographers Ravi K. Chandran and Manoj Paramahamsa invest the film with a rich, cinematic quality, particularly in the nighttime sequences and action set pieces. Thaman, as ever, is in beast mode, his music propping up most disappointing scenes on its shoulders. Production design brings bygone Mumbai to life with panache, and no cost has been shirked in presenting this as a high-end spectacle.
 
But behind the gloss, OG has trouble with emotional impact. Characters drift in and out without change, the second half flags, and the climactic payoff, while adequate, fails to generate the sort of wallop that leaves a bruise long after the credits roll. It's instructive that the most thrilling moments are the ones that are hinted at in the trailer. What's in between is largely filler.
 
They Call Him OG is fan service at its absolute worst—bald, flashy, and uncompromisingly centered on its lead. For Pawan Kalyan fans, it's a festschrift celebrating his presence in front of the camera, full of whistle-worthy scenes. But for people seeking a compelling gangster saga with substance and novelty, this katana may fall short. In the end, style conquers—but content gets the bullet.