Beyond the lack of physics in Boyapati Sreenu's films or the surprising presence of a political science classroom in his recent release Skanda (I mean, it is nice to not see a BTech classroom for once), it is the director's ongoing obsession with geography and sociology that demands more analysis. It is not nuanced, sure, but it is the lack of nuance or rather, the unabashed indifference to political correctness that makes for an amusing, ironic reception. Think of Jhansi's Telangana-accent spouting, new money, Kokapet aunty in Boyapati's Tulasi (2007) or the sambar-guzzling, potentially slanderous Tamizhselvi played by Vidyu Raman in Sarrainodu (2016). They were so garish yet entertaining. We parsed the outrage their characters presented but with ample amounts of crudely processed jest. Cut to Skanda, it feels like the director has outgrown that outright stereotyping in some ways. After all, when we are introduced to two prominent characters early in the film — the Chief Ministers of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, they are not entirely dissimilar. Both are wealthy partners-in-crime possessing the exact same proclivity to kill people who get in their way. The reasons why they become friends seem as natural as how they become enemies and the duo seem to be aware of this as well. At one point, the film also displays Anantapur as the capital of AP. In an entirely different tangent, these two details — the CMs and the mildly revisionist idea of a state capital— make me wish Boyapati Sreenu appeared on a Joe Rogan-style podcast to talk about his views on politics…the Telugu states bifurcation to be precise. The rest of the film, though, did not offer much to its actors, let alone the viewers watching it.
Director – Boyapati Sreenivas
Cast – Ram Pothineni, Sreeleela, Saiee Manjrekar, Sharath Lohithaswa, Ajay Purkar, Srikanth Meka, Raja Daggubati
The Boya-isms of Skanda kick right in when you see a couple elope in the first five minutes of the film in a (I'm not making this up) helicopter. Credit where it is due, the first half does have the semblance of a story. In a series of narrative misdirections and flashbacks within flashbacks popping off like Matryoshka dolls, we are introduced to Ram's character. There is a playful vibe between him and Sreeleela's character that is more annoying than adorable but before the complaint increases its pitch, we are handed a few fun dance sequences, before pushing the female lead to the background. The dancing is a welcome oasis in this desert of a film with no creative water, even with a lacklustre music score. There is another female lead (Saiee Manjrekar) who is as much a pawn as Sreeleela. We do not get an explanation as to where these characters belong in the larger scheme of things. The second half of Skanda, where the plot slowly unravels, tests the patience of the audience. The rest of the film then isn't a pay-off as much as it is a turn-off.
The reasons why Skanda isn't the unhinged masala entertainer it could have been are plenty. The pacing and the energy of the film's action sequences is the primary culprit. Early on in the film, Ram says a line about how all he requires is attention and elevation. But these twin de"vices" of vanity do prove to be the film's biggest enemy. In an attempt to showcase the actor at his most heroic, the film abuses slo-mo shots till they lose their impact. There is a flourish or two, like when Ram catches a spear aimed at his father or when he uses the arms of two baddies as a bow to launch an arrow but for the most part, the action is at its weakest. The monologues are fatigue-inducing as well. It is one thing to have the hero's father singing verses of his spawn's greatness but to have the villain do the exact same thing? This might have worked with someone like Balakrishna, who has decade's worth of star power to substantiate the build-up. Ram, for all his talent and boyish charm, should have played a character with humble beginnings who gradually grows into a hero.
Typically, in a Boyapati film, the women hold such little significance that the existence of women in Boyapati's films requires their own version of a Bechdel test, to display their importance ONLY in relation to the hero. The Boya test, if you may. However, the women of Skanda feel quite different from the ones in Boyapati's previous films. There is a woman who escapes an arranged marriage that would have shackled her. There is a female CEO. There are women who lie. Women who openly flirt. There is also an aspiring politician in this mix. Say what you will, Boyapati is taking baby steps. May Skanda be the last of the films from a formula he has been using since Simha. Despite the film and its innumerable disappointments, I still found myself smiling as I watched the post-credits scene. It is a making-of-montage all Boyapati fans are familiar with, one that a lot of us watch with more excitement than a Marvel post-credits scene. Boyapati is a man truly passionate about making his own unique, gleefully idiosyncratic brand of films. Let us hope that his next film is not yet another variation of his previous outings or relies heavily on Thaman's music again.
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