Sangeetha Devi Dundoo

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.

Lenin, the Telugu film written and directed by Murali Kishor Abburu, opens with the assertion that no war is more violent than love — a nod to stories from Greek and Indian mythology. Marking Akhil Akkineni’s return to the screen after three years, the film aims to tell an epic love story. At its core, it is a tale of friendship, love, deceit and revenge, layered with references to the Mahabharata and Ramayana. It unfolds against the backdrop of Bharatham Mitta, a cultural festival celebrating Draupadi in a fictional village in Andhra Pradesh’s Chittoor district. The rustic world is rendered with attention to detail, and the screenplay attempts to spring surprises at several turns. But the film falters at its core: the love story never quite makes the audience root wholeheartedly for its characters. The story had immense potential to build on love and pathos, which it does not fully achieve.

The more we assume things have changed, the more they probably have not, at least not for everyone. While some urban homes and schools have moved beyond awkward ‘birds and bees’ conversations to adopt a more pragmatic approach to sex education, the subject remains taboo in many households. In a remote village, those conversations become even harder. Super Subbu, Netflix’s first Telugu original series, directed by Mallik Ram and starring Sundeep Kishan in the title role, builds an engaging drama around this premise. Some of the early scenes evoke school days when teachers would skip sex education lessons to avoid uncomfortable giggles in the classroom. They also reveal the unease many educators themselves feel around the subject.

The final stretch of Rao Bahadur is an absolute riot. The carefully constructed drama gives way to a series of delightful twists that are both entertaining and thought-provoking. It is here that director Venkatesh Maha gently pulls the rug from under the audience, forcing them to view the entire film from a fresh perspective. Telugu cinema lovers may remember a similar narrative flourish in his debut indie film, Care of Kancharapalem. While that film offered a deeply realistic portrait of a neighbourhood grappling with questions of gender sensitivity and social hierarchy, Rao Bahadur ventures into fantasy, lacing its psychological drama with touches of magical realism.