Konda Polam movie review: A promising feature that suffers at execution

Language: Telugu There is a wonderful quote from a poem by Andrea Gibson: “I said to Sun ‘Tell me about the big bang.’ The Sun said, ‘it hurts to become.’” This is how Konda Polam begins, as a form of inquiry. A UPSC interviewer finds Ravi’s (Vaishnav Tej) choice to exercise his right of having the interview be conducted in his mother tongue interesting. So, he indulges him and asks him to tell his story. Ravi then begins, not with his childhood, but from a few moments before his father’s and fellow shepherds annual journey into the Nallamala forest, dangerous yet unavoidable. They live in a drought-riddled region in Kadapa, and til it starts to rain again they have to live on meagre amounts of water. While Amit Masurkar’s Sherni thoughtfully alludes to a similar plight, where people are forced to put their lives in danger for the sake of livelihood, it was still an outsider looking in. Here, we get a more intimate and meaningful look into the lives of people who nonchalantly walk into a dense forest because they know that despite the risk, she (the film sees it as a female personification) is the only one who can help them and their herd survive. The thing with a filmmaker like Krish is that you rarely leave the theatre empty-handed, or rather empty-hearted. Even if the love story is between an educated man and an uneducated woman, the conflict doesn’t come from a familiar place. Neither do you expect to be moved by a character played by Ravi Prakash; not that he isn’t talented, no one ever thought of using him this way. The scene with him on the phone with his wife, talking about a goat on labour tells you all you need to know about these people. They don’t look at these animals as just animals, which is why it’s natural for one of them to stay thirsty to keep the herd company. When Obulamma teaches Ravi how to hit someone with a stone, you see the exact moment he falls for her—he misses the target, but she doesn’t.

Vaishnav Tej has a great advantage; he is helped thoroughly by his wonder-prone eyes. I mean it probably takes work, but everything comes easy. He is scared a moment and he isn’t the next. He will be believable in both moments. It’s a gift and I hope he uses it wisely.

Songs do help a lot in a film like this where everything cannot be told. With ‘Daarulu Daarulu’ and ‘Tala Etthusong’), Sirivennela wonderfully imbues this journey with meaning and drama. In ‘Dham Dham Dham’, Chandrabose manages to weave a poetic relationship between these people and the forest. Even ‘Obulamma’ is a beautiful melody arranged and written by M M Keeravani that really manages to bring some life into the central romance. Having said that, every other week, I find myself bemoaning Telugu cinema’s kryptonite–an ill-fitted song. They are easy to forgive in a film with different intentions. But for a film like this that goes to commendable lengths to immerse the viewer into the environment, cutting to a song in a flamboyant set is counterproductive. It disorients and conveys nothing that ‘Obulamma’ already hasn’t. Speaking of which, if Rakul’s performance suffers, it suffers the same way any performance does when it can’t escape the facade of it all. Even if it begins at a place of mistrust, but once you manage to overcome the resistance, it turns into a delightful performance. This probably has something to do with the way the writing as well. The film’s intention to imbue as much personality as possible into this woman from the get-go turns her a bit overbearing. But after those few scenes of character establishment, you will find yourself looking forward to Obulamma. Even if she playfully/flirtatiously suggests to Ravi that he should mutter her name, ‘Obu Obu’, whenever he is scared, her lively presence contrasts the bleakness to the film’s advantage. Gnanashekar VS’s cinematography needs to be applauded for the balance it manages to strike between the meaningful and vain. The film takes place in a forest, so you get sprawling aerials to imply vastness, and abundance. But the camera also allows you to feel a man’s relief when it finally rains and, almost in a trance, he rubs the wet soil on his face. In any other film, this scene would reek of over-dramatisation, but Sai Chand sells it marvellously. The BGM, even if a bit intrusive in other places, perfectly complements such display of sentimentality. ‘An epic tale of becoming’ is a leading tag for a film to have. While it definitely is a story of a man coming of age and realising his priorities, it lacks the ‘epicness’ it foretells. Why raise audience expectations, when the odds of meeting them is practically nonexistent? Look, the story underneath it all is great. This idea of a man learning about himself while trying to help the weaker beings in his care is a great way to tell a coming-of-age story. It’s the execution that leaves a lot to be desired. Same dialogues or concepts are repeated by different characters, as if they ran out of ideas. Many plot devices are introduced and abandoned in the middle, which in turn makes the threat seem repetitive and lethargic, after a point. I understand that it is unavoidable when the conflict is as simple as man vs wild or survival vs wilderness, but I also believe that that could’ve been taken care of. Rating: 3.5/5 Watch the trailer here

Sankeertana Varma is an engineer who took a few years to realize that bringing two lovely things, movies and writing, together is as great as it sounds. Mainly writes about Telugu cinema.