Sangeetha Devi Dundoo

The Paradise begins by paying tribute to some of the Indian cinema legends we have lost in recent times. It also remembers revolutionary Telangana poet Gummadi Vittal Rao, better known as Gaddar. It is director Srikanth Odela’s way of tipping his hat to his Telangana roots and the region’s textured history. In his debut, Dasara, also starring Nani, Srikanth explored caste hierarchies around Telangana’s coal mines during the era of prohibition, weaving a tale of friendship, loss and revenge. It wasn’t a perfect film, but it established its emotional conflicts well.

Epic – First Semester arrives with expectations, largely because of director Aditya Haasan and the reunion of Baby leads Anand Deverakonda and Vaishnavi Chaitanya. While this is Aditya’s feature directorial debut, the runaway success of his nostalgia-soaked web series 90s’: A Middle Class Biopic and his first production, Little Hearts, a breezy rom-com, has already established him as a promising new voice in Telugu cinema. With Epic, Aditya takes a leap of faith, holding back from pandering to familiar mainstream tropes. The tagline, ‘an unfinished story’, and the words ‘point of view’ following the director’s credit suggest an intent to push the boundaries of the coming-of-age story.

In the final portions of Romanchakam, written and directed by Venu Gopal Reddy, the comedy of errors is in full swing. The narrative wants us to root for the lead pair, Anvesh (Sumanth Prabhas) and Mythili (Ananthika Sanilkumar). However, what lands better is the commotion created by Anvesh’s friends as they try to salvage the situation. Despite being consistently silly and overly talkative, their bond feels more convincing than the romance at the centre of the story. For a love story to work, the female protagonist needs to be well written. Perhaps in an attempt to keep the narrative breezy and humorous, the writing holds back from establishing who Mythili is. We know little about her background, aspirations or what stands in the way of her getting what she wants. A passing scene hints at differences between her and her parents, but the idea is not explored further. There are also sporadic references to suicide, but these remain vague and are never treated with much sincerity. At one point, an incident involving a suicide attempt is even played for humour. This imbalance between comedy and emotional depth makes it difficult to fully invest in the love story.

At the first sign of abuse, a character in the Telugu film Irumudi asks his daughter not to blow it up into a big issue. She wants to raise a complaint, but he states that fear is the best safety armour for a girl child. Another character empowers his daughter to be transparent and share all the happenings at school and the village without fear. These contrasting approaches of two fathers become the film’s biggest takeaway. The other significant takeaway is how Irumudi marks the return of Shiva Nirvana and Ravi Teja to form after a few middling films.

Some stories appear simple to begin with but gradually unravel layers of emotional turmoil. What could have been settled over a conversation ends up becoming a full-blown feud. Brittle egos and the lack of communication are probably among the most common aspects of dysfunctional families. Director Uday Chauhan, who has also written the Telugu film Pallaburusu (toothbrush), set in a fictional Telangana village, explores a universal story and hopes viewers will reflect on it long after they have had a few hearty laughs or turned teary-eyed in the cinema hall.

Telugu cinema has repeatedly turned to the horror-comedy genre to deliver crowd-pleasers. Often, a handful of genuinely funny stretches have been enough to carry narratives that are otherwise uneven. As long as the laughs land, audiences have been willing to overlook the rest. Director Merlapaka Gandhi returns to this familiar template, this time throwing K-dramas and K-pop into the mix in the hope of lending the genre a fresh twist. The premise of Korean Kanakaraju is intriguing. The ashes of a Korean man somehow end up in an unassuming bar in Andhra Pradesh’s Anantapur district. Through a bizarre turn of events, Kanakaraju (Varun Tej) accidentally mixes alcohol with the ashes, drinks it and becomes possessed.

It is unfair to analyse a film as two halves. In the case of debut director Ravi Namburii’s Telugu film Chennai Love Story, however, it becomes inevitable. Sai Rajesh, who has written the story, screenplay and produced the film, introduces a twist at the mid-point that changes how the audience is likely to perceive the film. Everything from this point depends on whether one gives in to an idea that defies logic and what it entails, even if the story thankfully ends on a pragmatic note.

In the opening portions of Oh! Sukumari, a young girl hears her teacher describe happiness as a large family bound by love and togetherness. Having lost her mother, she quietly holds on to the hope of finding that kind of home someday. Elsewhere, an ageing patriarch mourns a family that seems to value him more for his wealth than his presence. Their shared longing for love and belonging forms the emotional core of the film. Director Bharath Dharshan brings these seemingly disparate lives together with humour. Oh! Sukumari belongs to the recent wave of low-stakes rural comedies that find charm in the everyday lives, dreams and struggles of ordinary people.