Sangeetha Devi Dundoo

Oscar Wilde’s semi-comic tale Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime, published in 1891, follows an aristocrat’s absurd efforts to commit a murder before marrying his fiancée — purely because a palm reader foretells it as his destiny. Writer-director Mohanakrishna Indraganti reimagines this premise within the framework of a contemporary Telugu household, weaving in sharp social commentary, reflections on the film industry and social media culture, while also tipping his hat to the comedic sensibilities of Telugu and Tamil cinema greats like Jandhyala and ‘Crazy’ Mohan. It may sound like a lot to pack in — but Sarangapani Jathakam is a surprisingly smooth blend of social satire and screwball comedy, anchored by an excellent cast, particularly Priyadarshi Pulikonda and Vennela Kishore.

A scene in the final portions of the Telugu action drama Arjun S/O Vyjayanthi offers a moment of shock, establishing how far the protagonist would go to protect a loved one. Barring that moment, the film is an outdated relationship drama of a mother and son who find themselves at opposite ends of a flawed system. Had the makers approached the story with a new narrative style, perhaps the story’s emotional crux would have had the necessary impact. Instead, the film squanders the potential with its formulaic approach and gets tiresome with each passing action sequence. Vijayashanthi’s formidable presence and Kalyan Ram’s earnestness are in vain. The film unravels with a series of introduction sequences. Vijayashanthi’s introduction sequence doffs its hat to her iconic, tough-as-nails police officer characters in the 1990s. It establishes how she does not buckle under pressure, putting her own safety at risk. As the action sequence unravels, the film, written and directed by Pradeep Chilukuri, is aware that audience will not question how her young son reaches her in the forest even before the rescue team.

In the Telugu film Jack, written and directed by Bhaskar of Bommarillu fame, there is a recurring reference to how the protagonist, Jack, aka Pablo Neruda (played by Siddhu Jonnalagadda), was rejected by 24 coaches in his childhood for being an overenthusiastic child who lacked the discipline to train in any sport or art form. Perhaps the number 24 is a nod to the 24 crafts of cinema — we will never know. The story follows this misfit, who, with an uncanny sense of humour, positions himself as a self-appointed agent operating parallel to RAW (Research and Analysis Wing), determined to foil a terror plot. If the premise sounds unconvincing, the narrative unfolds in a way that makes it even harder to buy into. The title Jack, a metaphor for ‘jack of all trades’, leans heavily on its lead actor’s charisma and comic timing to sell an erratic character. Siddhu shoulders the film, delivering one-liners with flair and embodying both the angst and ambition of his role. But it is in vain, as the script remains flawed.

In late 2023, when director Kalyan Shankar’s campus comedy MAD introduced the audience to the three protagonists after whom the Telugu film takes its name, their antics forged an instant connect with the student community and anyone who wanted to reminisce campus fun. It worked as a Happy Days redux for a new generation, served with large doses of silly but mostly likeable humour. A worthy follow up to a runaway hit is a tough act to pull off. Sangeeth Sobhan, Narne Nithiin and Ram Nithiin return in a new set up, accompanied by Vishnu Oi and Muralidhar Goud. However, the material they are dealing with is like a patchwork of segments. Some generate ample laughs while the others fizzle, even within the framework of absurd comedy. In that sense, MAD Square is no Tillu Square, the other sequel comedy blockbuster from the same production house. The MAD trio — Manoj (Ram Nitin), Ashok (Narne Nithiin) and Damodar aka DD (Sangeeth Sobhan) — has moved on since the campus days but little else has changed. Their post-campus days unfold through a flashback narrated by Ganesh aka Laddu (Vishnu Oi), who is now in prison.

The strength of Court: State Vs a Nobody, debut director Ram Jagadeesh’s Telugu film, lies in its simple yet powerful truth —that the world would be a better place if those in power carried out their duties with sincerity. In this case, the focus is on the judiciary. Through an underdog narrative, Ram, along with co-writers Karthik and Vamsi, highlights how empathy can help deliver justice, regardless of social standing. The drama is anchored by Priyadarshi Pulikonda’s wonderfully restrained performance. The plot is straightforward. Nineteen-year-old Chandrashekhar (Harsh Roshan) falls in love with Jabili (Sridevi), 17. He is the son of a watchman, while she comes from a wealthy background. When her domineering uncle, Mangapathi (Sivaji), discovers their relationship, chaos ensues. Chandrashekhar is slapped with multiple charges, including under the POCSO Act (Protection of Children from Sexual Offences). The year is 2013, just a year after the Act was introduced.

Reviewing a film often involves stating the obvious: an interesting or amusing idea does not always translate into an engaging cinematic experience. Yet, after watching director Trinadha Rao Nakkina’s Telugu comedy Mazaka, written by Prasanna Kumar Bezawada, it feels necessary to reiterate this point. The writer-director duo take a premise with potential for outrageous humour but dilute it with predictable tropes, making the film tedious. The saving grace is the performances of Sundeep Kishan, Rao Ramesh, and Ritu Varma, though even they can only do so much to redeem the narrative. The film opens with a morning walker discovering a trail of red leading to two men washed up on Visakhapatnam beach. Alarmed, he alerts the police, only for the inspector (Ajay) to find that the men — Krishna (Sundeep Kishan) and his father Ramana (Rao Ramesh) — are not injured but simply hungover. The red stain, in fact, comes from a packet of avakaya (mango pickle) in their shirt pockets. The inspector, who is struggling with writer’s block while working on a novel, takes an interest in their story. The absurdity of the situation sets the tone for mindless fun and signals to the audience not to take anything too seriously — or ask too many questions.

The Telugu film Laila, directed by Ram Narayan and starring Vishwak Sen, outlined its premise clearly in its promotional material. The story revolves around a man forced to disguise himself as a woman to escape a group of men out for his blood — only to be ogled at by the very same pursuers. The trailer openly hinted at the double entendres and adult humour in store. However, the film’s issues extend far beyond its tasteless comedy. The narrative aggressively doubles down on crass, regressive tropes, making nearly every sequence leading up to and following the disguise an ordeal to sit through. Take, for example, a subplot where a family rejects multiple prospective brides because they are not “beautiful” enough to match the glamour of heroines from Chiranjeevi’s blockbuster films. Their eventual choice — a fair-skinned, stunning bride — shatters their illusions when her makeup wears off, revealing dark skin. The son is devastated, while the father, in apparent shock, is nearly paralysed. It is hard to believe that such tone-deaf sequences, masquerading as comedy, are still being written in 2025.

Some films focus less on plot and more on character-driven narratives. Thandel, the Telugu film directed by Chandoo Mondeti, is a prime example. Based on true incidents from a few years ago, in which fishermen from Andhra Pradesh unknowingly crossed international waters into Pakistan, the film weaves a love story that transcends all odds. The storyline, penned by Karthik Theeda, is straightforward, but Chandoo’s screenplay immerses viewers in the world of the fisherfolk, with an emotionally stirring romance — between Raju (Naga Chaitanya) and Satya (Sai Pallavi) — at its core. The poignant love story comes alive through the lead actors’ performances, complemented by Devi Sri Prasad’s evocative music, which serves as the film’s emotional anchor. But is that enough to overlook the weaker, more turbulent portions? Almost.