I went into Panji Tengkorak expecting a gritty animated revenge story with some cool fights and regional flavor, and I left pleasantly surprised, slightly exhausted, and mildly annoyed in the way you get when something is good enough that you start nitpicking it like a professional hater. This movie knows exactly what it wants to be: dark, violent, myth-heavy, and emotionally blunt. It does not ask for your permission. It just shows up, drenches itself in blood and folklore, and says, “Deal with it.” And honestly, most of the time, I was happy to deal with it.
Panji himself is not a charming protagonist. He is angry, closed-off, stubborn, and deeply committed to making every room more miserable simply by entering it. This works because the film understands that grief is not cute and revenge is not aspirational. Panji doesn’t grow into a better man; he grinds his way into a slightly less self-destructive one. The immortality curse is the smartest narrative decision here, because it flips the usual power fantasy on its head. He wins every fight, survives every wound, and hates every second of it. Watching an invincible character desperately want an ending is far more interesting than watching one chase more power, and the film leans into that irony without overexplaining it.
The emotional backbone of the story is simple and effective. Panji loved his wife. She was taken from him brutally. He responded by tearing the world apart and accidentally trapping himself inside it forever. That’s it. No convoluted moral puzzle, no fake philosophical speeches, just consequences stacking up one after another. When flashbacks appear, they usually serve a purpose, though not always at the best moments. Some of them land hard and deepen Panji’s motivation. Others interrupt the pacing right when the story is finally picking up speed, like someone tapping your shoulder during a good action scene to remind you that feelings exist.
The supporting characters do a lot of heavy lifting. Bramantya, the mentor figure, avoids becoming a walking wisdom dispenser by being pragmatic and occasionally irritated with Panji’s self-pity. Gantari and the rest of the group add texture to the journey, not by being hilarious comic relief, but by acting like people who are tired, scared, and aware that following an immortal killing machine is a bad life choice. Their presence helps the movie avoid turning into a one-man sulk parade.
Visually, the film is ambitious and uneven in a way that feels almost endearing. When it works, it really works. The environments feel dense and hostile, the lighting is moody without being unreadable, and the action choreography has weight and clarity. Swords feel heavy. Hits land. Bodies fall in ways that suggest bones exist. The animation style embraces roughness rather than chasing polish, which suits the tone. That said, there are moments where the animation dips noticeably. Some movements feel stiff, some transitions are awkward, and a few scenes look like they needed another round of refinement before being let loose. It never becomes unwatchable, but it does remind you that ambition sometimes outruns resources.
The fight scenes are frequent and mostly excellent. They are brutal without being chaotic, and the film generally understands spatial awareness, which is more than I can say for many live-action action movies with ten times the budget. Panji’s immortality makes these fights interesting because the tension isn’t about whether he’ll survive, but about how much damage he’s willing to endure and what it costs him psychologically. Still, the movie sometimes leans too hard on combat to carry momentum, and there are stretches where it feels like the plot exists mainly to justify the next violent encounter.
Tone-wise, the movie walks a tricky line between grim seriousness and accidental melodrama. Most of the time, it stays grounded. Occasionally, a line of dialogue lands with more intensity than the moment can support, or a dramatic pause stretches just a bit too long, daring you to roll your eyes. It’s not constant, but it’s noticeable. The film wants to be taken seriously, and for the most part, it earns that respect. It just doesn’t always know when to stop emphasizing the point it has already made.
Narratively, Panji Tengkorak is solid but not groundbreaking. The quest structure is familiar, the sacred artifact is exactly as sacred and artifact-y as you expect, and certain betrayals can be spotted from several scenes away. This isn’t a movie that surprises you with wild plot twists. Instead, it focuses on execution and atmosphere. Whether that works for you will depend on how much you value originality over competence. Personally, I was fine with it, though I wouldn’t pretend the story will haunt me for years.
Where the film really succeeds is in confidence. It never feels apologetic about its darkness or its cultural specificity. It trusts the audience to keep up, to read the room, and to accept that not every character is here to be likable. That confidence carries the weaker moments and makes the stronger ones shine brighter. By the time the movie reaches its conclusion, it delivers emotional closure without tying everything up too neatly. Some characters fade out sooner than they should, and a few thematic threads are left underdeveloped, but the ending fits Panji’s journey. It feels earned, if not entirely unexpected.
In the end, Panji Tengkorak is a flawed but compelling animated film that punches above its weight. It’s rough, intense, occasionally indulgent, and clearly made with conviction. I laughed a few times, winced more than once, and stayed engaged throughout. That’s a win. It may not be perfect, but it is memorable, and in a crowded streaming landscape, that already puts it ahead of the curve.
Final Score- [7.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
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Publisher at Midgard Times