The Family Star: Emotional Hoax
Star Cast: Vijay Deverakonda, Mrunal Thakur, Divyansha Kaushik, Vennela Kishore, JAgapathi Babu, Vasuki, and Rohini Hattangadi
Cinematography by KU Mohanan
Edited by Marthand K Venkatesh
Music Composed by Gopi Sunder
Directed by Parasuram Petla
Our writers and directors appear to be stuck in an 80s mindset when creating entertainers. Let’s take a brief trip through history: [not going to be as long as “The Man” speech] In the 50s and 60s, Indian regional cinema flourished in languages like Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam, and Kannada, while Hindi Cinema remained primarily a “city” or “rich movie-viewing hobby.” To connect with rural audiences, directors and writers adapted stage plays, experimenting to discover what works and what doesn’t. The “learnings” and “remakes” from other languages did bring some novelty to the established stage dramas. 70s marked a shift, with movie-making becoming a full-time profession, resulting in a proliferation of films each year. New directors sought fresh formulas to engage audiences, and by the 80s, these formulas became norms. Influenced by Western cinema, directors like Mani Ratnam and Ram Gopal Varma introduced changes. Things have been redefined, and formulas with timely appropriate changes yielded successes. Unfortunately, we are going back to 80s practices, thinking that they would only yield ‘minimum guarantee’ and ‘safe bet’ movies.
First 80’s Habit: Treating movie-making purely as a business proposal and assembling hit combinations. The goal is to replicate the same magic using familiar “elements.”
Problem with This Approach: It prioritizes theatrical reaction over thoughtful storytelling and screenplay. The screenplay is meticulously crafted to mimic the success of previous combination movies. However, movie-making transcends mere business – it is an art form.
Major Risk of Backfiring: Audiences may not find any novelty in the scenes and screenplay. The other storyline that you’ve incorporated into this “new” film might feel forced within the context of the previous movie narrative.
Second 80’s Habit: Creating heroes who are “outlandish” and “extreme.”
Problem with This Approach: Not every hero can be an extraordinary superhuman. Even in the 80s, films like Magamaharaju [1983] and Maharaju [1985] stayed close to real-life situations of their time and then showcased heroic victories in climactic moments. However, this approach can easily become predictable.
Major Risk of Backfiring: The lack of freshness and the attempt to imitate previous successes or other filmmakers can result in artificiality permeating everything.
Third 80’s Habit: Logic Should Never Always Yield to Drama
Problem with This Approach: There exists a famous proverb: “Where drama starts, logic ends.” However, this doesn’t imply that you should completely disregard logic within the e”stablished reality of your story”. Instead, everything seems outlandish, your “Pulihora” elements should be mixed with proper precision.
Major Risk of Backfiring: Audiences often struggle to immerse themselves fully in the reel realistic world. Consequently, they may feel restless when confronted with improbable events on the big screen.
Fourth 80’s Habit: Clinging to the Success Formula
Problem with This Approach: By rigidly adhering to the success formula, you inadvertently fall into the trap of repetition.
Major Risk of Backfiring: Picture this: the hero arrives, performs a heroic act, the heroine croons a song, the villain gets bashed, revenge plots unfold, misunderstandings arise, and the heroine eventually reveals the truth. Rinse and repeat. If every movie follows this predictable pattern like a factory-produced item, how can a “new movie” sustain audience interest?
Unfortunately, in 2024, we are still approaching movie-making with those four habits that provoke laziness and limit your imagination. In a day and age, when your potential audiences are exposed to all sorts of content from various countries over different platforms, you cannot say something that is too outdated in the same old template with the same old influences. Yes, many would want to fall back on to Dasari Narayana Rao style family dramas that worked wonders at the box office with just one unique tweak to the established formula for one or two episodes in his screenplay. When you have 30 serials and 50 web series at your disposal, do you really think a money-paying audience member would pay 300-400 for just another serial-style narrative?
In the movie “Ammo Okato Tareekhu,” [2000] we witness a man toiling hard to bring home a meager salary, while the entire household of 8 to 10 people depends on his earnings. Vijay Deverakonda’s character mirrors this struggle. However, it raises questions: Why don’t his sister-in-laws work at an office to contribute to running the household? In 2000, such circumstances might be understandable, but in 2024, shouldn’t there be educated and independent women? Now, shifting to “Budget Padmanabham,” [2001] the protagonist is portrayed as a miser. His desire to reclaim the childhood mansion, which he nostalgically refers to as “home,” drives his frugal lifestyle. But why does Vijay Deverakonda’s character withhold resources from family members, akin to a fictional “CG Dosa,” when his boss recognizes his exceptional skills? If the boss is understanding enough to guarantee an employee’s brother’s business, surely there’s room for salary increments, bonuses, or commissions upon successful project completion. In Budget Padmanabham, heroine falls in love with hero because of his money saving nature so that she can use that for her luxuries. What does Mrunal Thakur’s Indu see in Vijay’s Govardhan, to directly be infatuated with him? Instead of infatuation, perhaps she could befriend other family members to gather details for her thesis. After all, they seem willing to accept favors from outsiders. And why must the hero be “selfless” amidst their “selfishness”? Does his “selfless miserly misery” truly impact the family? His burden of responsibility, akin to lifting the metaphorical “Govardhana Parvatha,” should command respect without resorting to comic scenes. Otherwise, what regard do audiences hold for this character?
In the film “Abhishekam,” [1998] the hero’s every difficulty is conveniently resolved by his look-alike for selfish reasons. However, the character Indu [Mrunal] claims to care for Govardhan [Vijay] due to his “selflessness.” But is merely giving him money equivalent to truly taking care of him? Does offering him a high-paying job in her company truly showcase her “love”? Furthermore, when Govardhan secures such a well-paid job, why does he choose to remain at home? Wouldn’t it be more sensible for him to compel his brothers to take care of their family’s daily needs by accepting this opportunity and providing for them in a better way? Either it should have been clearly established how much he loves them or it should have been clearly established that he can go cranky and crazy at any moment, hence he finds this company and this boss more comfortable to work with. Instead, we witness him running around in a “lungi,” breaking bones of rowdies and breaking iron rods.
Parasuram’s approach in this film seems to be based on a single line, tailored to fit his personal indulgences. While Vijay Deverakonda’s performance is commendable, his repetitive style of dialogue delivery for every character becomes monotonous. Mrunal Thakur’s inclusion appears more out of necessity than choice, as her character lacks coherence. Chiranjeevi’s character, on the other hand, faces joblessness in “Challenge,” [1984] leading him to explore any opportunity to achieve his goals. But what exactly is Vijay Deverakonda’s target in this film? His wounded ego stems from being labeled “poor” by someone, but what does he truly accomplish? Does he recognize the problem his ego creates? Is he aware of the distinction between an objective outsider’s perspective and his self-created image as a “GOD”? In contrast to “Geetha Govindam,” [2018] where no one was truly at fault, this film’s narrative feels contrived and haphazardly written. So, why should he fall in love with her? Why should she reciprocate? Leaving aside the “why,” when did she find him? when did she become impressed with him, and when did he decide it was acceptable to shoulder this “extra burden”?
With a patchwork screenplay, Parasuram Petla reveals that he remains at a ‘Solo’ level of writing. While a writer’s experience typically leads to improvement, there comes a point where it plateaus. In this case, Parasuram seems to rely on templates he believes will succeed, sticking to them rigidly. Previously, he injected good comic scenes into regular template screenplays. However, in this film, he introduces prostitution and portrays a hero who miraculously obtains a US Visa despite struggling with basic English sentence construction. Additionally, he attempts to recreate popular scenes from other works. In the end, all we can say is to write a good film, “Should we bend iron with barefoot?” (Airanevanchala enti manchi script rayadaniki?) In an emotional hoax, that tries to be a film, we can’t find moments to cherish but can only find those that leave us with the pain of watching the film. I’m human and Badhesthadi…
Theatrical Trailer:
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