Sangeetha Devi Dundoo

Hari Hara Veera Mallu – Part 1: Sword Vs Spirit, with the tagline ‘battle for dharma’, was in the making for over five years. The delay was partly due to the pandemic, and later, the lead actor Pawan Kalyan taking on his role as Deputy Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh. The film, originally directed by Krish Jagarlamudi, changed hands midway, with A M Jyothi Krishna stepping in to see it through. The shift is visible on screen. This period drama, blending fact and fiction, often loses its way and feels stretched. Pawan Kalyan plays Veera Mallu, a rebel who steals from the rich and helps the poor. The film takes creative liberties to build a fictional story, leaning into the actor’s public image and his alignment with sanatana dharma.

It is a scenario straight out of the wildest dreams, or nightmares. An entire village, dressed in festive finery, gathers around a specially constructed stage. There is anticipation in the air, a celebratory mood. But the master of ceremonies (Vishnu Oi), a man summoned from a neighbouring town, is left stunned when he learns the purpose of the event: a lucky draw to determine who will win slots in the village burial ground, now perilously close to running out of space. Director Ani IV Sasi, who previously helmed the offbeat Telugu romance Ninnila Ninnila, returns with Uppu Kapurambu — a madcap satire that takes on the politics of death, land, and legacy. Screenwriter Vasanth Maringanti weaves in layered subtexts touching upon gender, caste, money, and power, exposing the absurdity of fighting over land meant for one’s final rest.

There is a fine line between inventive and outright bizarre. On paper, Thammudu might have seemed like a gripping watch —blending complex family dynamics, childhood friendship, and a good-versus-evil survival thriller. But in execution, it is more of an endurance test than an immersive film. Written and directed by Venu Sriram, starring Nithiin, Varsha Bollamma, Sapthami Gowda and Laya, the film tries to juggle too much, and drops most of it. Nithiin plays Jai, an archer chasing gold at the world championship. His struggle, we are told, is not about fitness or skill, it is emotional baggage. He confides in childhood friend Chitra (Varsha) about his broken bond with his sister (Laya) and the regret that has been weighing him down. Chitra, meanwhile, is apparently a successful entrepreneur who wins ‘Start-up of the Year’. What does her company do? The film does not tell us. On stage, she announces her love for Jai, tearfully calling him “more than just a boyfriend.” Logic takes a backseat, and so does character depth.

At one point, well into the second hour of the Telugu film Kannappa, Prabhas appears on screen as the deity Rudra. His extended cameo includes lines that cheekily nod to his larger-than-life image — one even references the endless speculation around his bachelorhood. These ‘meta’ touches serve as deliberate fan service, injecting energy into an otherwise uneven narrative. It is a shame, because Kannappa, led by Vishnu Manchu, sets out with the earnest ambition of reintroducing the devotional legend to a contemporary audience. Rooted in folklore, the story follows Thinna, an atheist hunter believed to be a reincarnation of Arjuna, who transforms into a devout follower of Lord Shiva. In a final act of faith, he offers his own eyes to the deity, earning the name Kannappa.

The film begins by acknowledging its writer-director’s 25-year career, and the title card — Sekhar Kammula’s Kuberaa —says it all. Kuberaa is driven by its director and his ambitious tale that does not pander to the starry aura of Dhanush, Nagarjuna Akkineni, and Rashmika Mandanna. Sekhar makes them play characters — men and women inhabiting a complex world driven by money, power and greed. The narrative is not perfect. Yet, it is a brave one in the realm of mainstream Telugu cinema, giving viewers plenty to chew on. In broad terms, Kuberaa is the story of a capitalist exploiting those who are below the poverty line. How these two worlds collide makes all the difference. A multi-billionaire (Jim Sarbh as Neeraj Mitra) believes ‘fame is power’. He lives in a Mumbai high-rise that has an infinity pool. At the other end of the spectrum are those who beg for alms, whom this film describes as the ‘invisible’, brushed aside at traffic signals and at places of worship as an inconvenience.

When things take a dark turn in Rana Naidu season two, Rana (Rana Daggubati) tries to reassure his daughter Nitya (Afrah Sayed) that everything will be fine. She retorts that nothing will ever be the same. This exchange encapsulates the story’s core, which follows the consequences of Rana’s actions as a fixer in Mumbai, tasked with managing the scandals of celebrities. Written by Karan Anshuman and Ryan Soares, with dialogues by Vaibhav Vishal, the series is directed by Suparn S Varma, Karan Anshuman and Abhay Chopra. It traces Rana’s attempts to protect his family while continuing his long-standing conflict with his father, Naga Naidu (Venkatesh Daggubati). Loosely adapted from the American series Ray Donovan, the first season drew criticism for making Venkatesh, a long-time favourite in Telugu family films, deliver frequent expletives for shock effect. The new season offers a more restrained portrayal. Venkatesh avoids most of the profanity, though others around him do not. Unlike the first season, which opened provocatively, this one begins with Venkatesh practising pranayama — the calm before the storm.

It is tough to look at 23 (Iravai Moodu) solely as a film. The indie-spirited Telugu venture based on real incidents, written and directed by Raj R, is part social commentary, presented in a docu-drama style. Armed with a cast that includes 25 newcomers and a few established names, Raj questions if the justice system is equal to everyone. George Orwell’s statement from Animal Farm, ‘All are equal, but some are more equal than others’, sets the tone of the film that wants its audience to look at crime and its perpetrators through different perspectives. The film’s premise is shaped by three incidents that shook undivided Andhra Pradesh in the 1990s. In 1991, the Tsunduru massacre witnessed brutal caste violence against Dalits. In 1993, 23 passengers lost their lives after two Dalit men set a bus on fire in Chilakaluripet. In 1997, a car bomb explosion in Film Nagar, Hyderabad, reportedly killed 26 and injured several others.

Last year, the Telugu film 35: Chinna Katha Kaaduasked viewers to consider why zero — seemingly without value — becomes greater than nine when placed after a one. The message was a subtle but effective way of empowering students struggling with mathematical concepts. This year, director Sunny Sanjay returns with Anaganaga, streaming on ETV Win, which presents science lessons — ranging from eclipses to the role of red and white blood cells — through short, story-driven episodes. At the heart of the film is Vyas Kumar, a storyteller-teacher played with quiet sincerity by Sumanth, in one of his most nuanced roles. He brings learning to life for children who find traditional methods difficult to absorb. Loosely adapted from the Marathi film Eka Kay Zaala, Anaganaga opts for simplicity, using its narrative as a gentle teaching tool. Like Taare Zameen Parand 35, it follows a familiar underdog arc, delivering its message with warmth and clarity without talking down to its audience.