Sangeetha Devi Dundoo

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.

At the end of Maa Inti Bangaaram (MIB), I kept thinking about what it could have been had the team gone all out with its blend of action entertainer and family drama. Telugu cinema rarely presents a sari-clad female protagonist who can deliver punches powerful enough to send shivers down the spines of thugs. That role belongs to actor-producer Samantha Ruth Prabhu, who once again makes her action sequences convincing. The audience cheers during the high moments; that kind of stardom is earned over time. Samantha’s third outing with director Nandini Reddy, co-produced by Raj Nidimoru, has plenty going for it. Parts of the film are genuinely enjoyable, blending humour, subtle social commentary and action. It remains immensely watchable but falls well short of being a standout.

At a time when Telugu cinema seems trapped in the pursuit of pan-Indian ambitions, with big-budget productions often resting on weakly written stories, Sing Geetham is a refreshing departure. Directed by 94-year-old filmmaker Singeetham Srinivasa Rao, it serves as a timely reminder that the industry can still take leaps of faith and offer audiences something new. The story reflects on the futility of human greed while reinforcing the need to live in harmony with Nature. Its musical fantasy-drama format springs from childlike innocence and an audacity to defy stale box-office formulas. Bringing wings to Rao’s 40-year-old dream project is a talented cast and crew, with music composer Devi Sri Prasad serving as the film’s backbone.