Top 10 Telugu Movies in 2023.
1. Salaar – Part1
Thrusting fully into its duology structure, the Tollywood action movie “Salaar: Part 1 – Ceasefire” has a convoluted story that frequently bewilders viewers in an attempt to set up a sequel, but its maximalist action scenes never fail to impress. Director Prashanth Neel uses the talents of ultra-charismatic superstar Prabhas (the star of S.S. Rajamouli’s “Baahubali” series) as the silent, stewing protagonist Deva in a grimy guns-and-gangsters melodrama after his previous two-parter “K.G.F.” smashed Indian box-office records for Kannada-language films.
The narrative keeps it close to the vest at first, but it abruptly and dramatically shifts into a legendary epic about ancient blood feuds and hidden societies. The film, which is 174 minutes long and features nested flashbacks brimming with information, includes extended parts that may seem tedious. All of the unnecessary scenes eventually come together to provide some of the most thrilling and cathartic on-screen violence that Indian cinema has to offer.
“Salaar: Part 1” opens with a sequence of flashbacks that quickly characterize a teenage Deva as obedient and terrifying. He uses a creative but self-destructive method to defeat an adult wrestler to defend the honor of his best buddy Vardha, who is the son of the wealthy Mannar family, though it is first unclear who they are. As a result, he has a noticeable scar on his arm and neck. Soon after, Vardha repays the favor by assisting Deva and his mother (Easwari Rao) in escaping a similarly vague threat. As they go into self-imposed exile, Vardha refers to Deva as his “salary”—a one-man army that may be called upon in an emergency—a title he believes has its roots in the times of Persian rulers.
A contemporary, gripping tale of retribution and monitoring emerges rapidly from this prologue, with characters appearing more frequently than the reader can keep track of. A young woman named Aadhya (Shruti Haasan), the daughter of a well-known manufacturer who has somehow injured a powerful Indian politician and her catatonic sister, is the target of several armed factions. A now-adult Deva and his mother, who are hiding out as a day laborer and a school teacher in the eastern province of Assam, are the only ones who can save Shruti from a worldwide manhunt.
Neel creates a lot of tension for what’s about to happen by interspersing impressionistic flashes of memories that allude to Deva’s aggression. Every time Deva considers justified killing, the screen trembles. When the first significant action sequence does eventually occur, “Salaar” indulges in a gratuitous hero worship, with slo-mo shots honoring Prabhas’ stature, build, and composure as well as his unwillingness to participate in the cinematic violent ritual. Neel and DP Bhuvan Gowda ramp up the contrast on their desaturated photos, making every environmental detail—dust, rain, even blooddrops—even more visible.
Subsequent altercations and pursuits culminate in an armed confrontation that redefines the term “automatic weaponry.” The only character whose motivation is ever fully revealed is Deva, who is motivated by her righteous, divine protection of innocents. However, the action is so captivating and intense that understanding the plot takes a backseat. Even if the solutions are wholly unexpected, this peculiar narrative withholding begins to make sense when the pieces eventually do fall into place.
“Salaar: Part 1” is best divided by a turn that occurs a little over an hour in, when it stops being a simple drama about a man on a virtuous errand and instead becomes a whole season of “Game of Thrones.” Most Indian blockbusters are structured around an intermission. Following the dramatic conclusion of the first act, the entire narrative is told in flashback by a character in the present, who at last divulges the reasons behind the peculiar secrecy surrounding the plot. It involves centuries-old tribal rivalries in addition to a hidden society akin to Wakanda on the Pakistani-Indian border.
Eventually, Vardha (Prithviraj Sukumaran), Deva’s best friend from boyhood, enters the conflict and admits that he had asked Deva for assistance a number of years prior. The movie’s original plot is largely consumed by that call and its ramifications during a political power grab that takes place across several countries, though for good reason. The screenwriter, Neel, is obsessive about crafting a cinematic lore as expansive as that of Hindu epics like “Mahabharat” or “The Lord of the Rings,” even if it means sacrificing narrative coherence for extended periods of time.
He keeps crafting Deva’s violent outbursts as hesitant rituals of violence in spite of these bewildering ambiguities, giving the spectator a strong desire to watch Prabhas unleash his fury on evil goons. He even transforms a reoccurring view of Deva’s shadow with his arms crossed into an exciting pattern, as if uncrossing them signaled the start of a slow destruction that leads to positions evocative of the malevolent characters seen in Hindu religion.
One could argue that the film’s first act serves only as a set-up for its upcoming sequel, Salaar: Part 2 – Shouryaanga Parvam, because of its peculiar, inside-out structure. Regardless of the chronological order of events, Neel ensures that each action sequence in “Part 1” builds upon the previous one. Though the film’s climax takes place five years prior to the actual kidnapping story, it nevertheless builds to a furious, cathartic crescendo full of dramatic potential and visual escalation. The action scenes in this nearly three-hour movie may seem few and far between, but they are all well worth the wait.Top 10 Telugu Movies in 2023 updated in this article.
Let’s imagine you wish to see the new action-fantasy based on Indian mythology called “Adipurush” without giving much thought to its predecessors. Despite the connections associated with the marquee-topping Prabhas, star of both of S.S. Rajamouli’s groundbreaking period action fantasies, “Baahubali,” you want to go into the theater with as little baggage as possible. Perhaps you would like to watch a fantastic adaptation of The Ramayana, or at least the most widely adapted portions of that epic poem written in Sanskrit, in which the evil multi-headed god Lankesh/Ravana (Saif Ali Khan) is thwarted by the arrow-wielding god Raghava, also known as Ram (Prabhas), saving his wife Sita, or Janaki (Kriti Sanon), who has been abducted.
Although “Adipurush” has only recently opened in America, it has already generated controversy in India, where trend pieces, interviews, and reviews have examined the implications of Lankesh’s appearance, particularly his peculiar nu-metal gel-spiked haircut that has drawn comparisons to Alauddin Khilji, a prominent Muslim figure. Sanon’s choice to play Sita has also sparked controversy and, regrettably, successful calls for censorship. (A few vocal opponents take issue with the fact that Sanon, who plays Sita in “India’s Daughter,” has danced provocatively in previous films.)
Is it possible to watch, much less enjoy, a story this classic without drawing too many distracting parallels to other films or current events in politics? Or are such connections both the biggest draw and the worst obstacle for “Adipurush,” whose name means “First Man” in Sanskrit and whose sizeable budget (Rs 500 crore, or roughly $67 million) is said to exceed all previous Indian mega-productions? In all honesty, “Adipurush” has so much terrible green-screen picture compositing that it may overshadow all other factors due to how shoddy and uninspired everything looks.
The first hour or so of “Adipurush” feels endless due to shoddy and tacky-looking special effects; nevertheless, your mileage may vary. At a packed Thursday afternoon matinee in Manhattan’s Union Square theater, the boisterous cheers of Prabhas’s admirers subsided quickly following his victorious opening scene, in which Raghava nearly kills a horde of demonic wraiths. Subdued by the usual ostentatious soundtrack, the auditorium’s quiet finally became audible after a time. Viewers have been pre-sold “Adipurush” based on what they already know: how can you go wrong with an epic adapted from popular culture that features monstrous villains, animal people from the Uncanny Valley, and superheroic Hindu gods? So, recently, have you seen any decent Marvel films?
It’s becoming easier to comprehend why an event title with strong special effects like “Adipurush” could cost so much and still look so poor, given recent comments from irate Marvel visual effects studio workers. It’s more difficult to see how the film’s creators could have been OK with crucial setting scenes, such as the one in which Janaki swoons when she and Raghava are surrounded romantically by a flock of shoddily drawn pink flamingos.
A lot of the character movements in some musical numbers, particularly those starring Janaki and Lankesh, mainly serve to highlight computer graphics that give the theatrical version of “Justice League” an air of gloss. This leads to a lack of narrative coherence. There’s the explanatory conversation and the ersatz, seemingly literally translated poetry of the song lyrics. And then there are the utterly fake visual effects that turn everything into a video game cut scene, particularly the expressionless faces of an otherwise ample ensemble cast. Put another way, “Adipurush” contains layers of issues, even though it’s unlikely that most audiences will be able to look past the film’s careless surface issues.
In the end, there is some hope, but only if you are willing to regard “Adipurush” as one of a select few trend-chasers. “Game of Thrones” on HBO, Peter Jackson’s original “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, and yes, Rajamouli’s “Baahubali” two-parter are among the many generic elements that reference everything. Scenes with Devdatta Nage’s pure-hearted simian god Bajrang/Hanuman (Hanuman) also blatantly parody the latest Andy Serkis-directed motion-capture-heavy “Planet of the Apes” films. The fact that these frequently criticized themes are derivative doesn’t matter nearly as much as the film’s clumsy presentation, which only sometimes picks up during the pivotal confrontation between Raghava, Lankesh, and their respective armies.
3. Walter Veerayya
Bobby’s Waltair Veerayya, starring Chiranjeevi, Shruti Haasan, Ravi Teja, Catherine Tresa, Bobby Simha, and Prakash Raj, felt like a better movie from the start than the mediocre Venky Mama. Despite its flaws, the movie mostly succeeds in holding your attention.
Veerayya (Chiranjeevi) is a fisherman from Jalarpet, Vizag, who also smuggles whiskey and luxury goods. Even though he has a criminal history, he is well-respected enough that the Coast Guard contacts him in an emergency. He is referred to in a scene as “samundar ka sarkaar.” Rajendra Prasad, a police officer, can never forget what he saw in Maredumalli because it was so horrific. He goes to Veerayya with the idea that he can accomplish something that the law is unable to. He nods, clearly in need of cash. Is there a deeper reason Veerayya consented to this, even if the target is Solomon Caesar (Bobby Simha), the brother of the infamous drug lord Michael (Prakash Raj)?
Waltair Neither Veerayya nor we take ourselves too seriously. Characters that don’t appear to be who they are on the surface abound in the movie. With each passing scene, fight, song, and so on in the masala formula, Bobby gradually reveals the truths these individuals are hiding. They are all not who they initially appear to be. Most of the movie’s first half is lighthearted and enjoyable. Nobody appears to be able to concentrate long enough as Veerayya and the gang set out on their journey to reach Malaysia. While the stakes do rise, they never do so to a sufficient degree. However, things alter just prior to the break.In the second part of the movie, there are jokes and some laughing as well, but the tone changes. After the introduction of ACP Vikram Sagar (Ravi Teja), the film becomes a little more serious. This is where the problem with the movie is. Even if the movie needs to get serious at certain points, it doesn’t work well with the humorous scenes. Nevertheless, the movie veers between the two until an absurd, extravagant ending ends it. The fact that sequences are abruptly cut to needless duets with Atidhi (Shruti Haasan), who appears to have a purpose in the narrative until she is marginalized, doesn’t help either. The movie has enough exciting moments to keep you interested, but there is nothing new in the narrative.
Veerayya appears to be enjoyable for Chiranjeevi. Although his coastal dialect verges on caricature rather than authenticity, his body language and comedic timing are excellent for the part, particularly when he makes references to Jaru Mitaya. We also think he’s having a great time shaking a leg to Boss Party and Poonakalu Loading. Ravi Teja is given a substantial role, which he performs flawlessly in. His seamless integration into the masala storyline is impressive. The remaining members of the cast, Bobby, Prakash Raj, Catherine, and Shruti, make the most of what they have. Bobby’s direction is enhanced by the background score by DSP and the camera work by Arthur A Wilson.
4. Veera simha reddy
Veera Simha Reddy by Gopichand Malineni is just intended for Balakrishna’s devotees. There isn’t a way around it. Otherwise, you can only take so much of the flying bodies, loud punch speech designed to make you cheer, and scene after scene that exists just to present the main character as nothing less than a god.
Growing up in Istanbul, Jai (Balakrishna) had no companions other than his mother Meenakshi (Honey Rose). He is unaware of the suffering she left behind, even though his mother, in an attempt to be faithful to her heritage, owns a restaurant with a Rayalaseema theme. He learns more about his father Veera Simha Reddy (Balakrishna) after he falls in love with tone-deaf wannabe singer Isha (Shruti Haasan) and eventually wants to marry her. Additionally, he learns that Bhanumathi (Varalaxmi Sarathkumar) and Pratap Reddy (Duniya Vijay) want his father killed. It’s easy to foresee what will happen next if you’ve watched any of the actor’s films with lots of faction.
Because of the way the title character is written, you can predict how everything will turn out. He will defy gravity in all of his bouts, cause a small earthquake whenever he walks into a room, and—above all—exude confidence even when clad in a basic shirt and lungi and smoking a rolled cigar. And since the entire movie revolves around Balakrishna portraying him, you really don’t care that everything that is happening on screen is a rehash of a million previous scenes. Veera has a powerful hold on you.
The picture falters when it starts to focus on Jai, Isha, or even Meenakshi instead of him. You merely have to wait for the movie to go on while a duet or special performance is performing on screen. The songs are seamlessly woven into the story without following any particular rhyme or rhythm. As the movie goes on, the conversation becomes monotonous, reiterating material you already know and trying your patience. That still functions, though, if Pratap or Bhanumathi are once again the center of attention. While one would not anticipate logic (or physics) from a masala-starrer of this caliber, Veera’s attitude to factionism is puzzling. Although he doesn’t want the future generation to follow in his footsteps, it’s best to keep his words to himself.
Even with its nostalgic touches, Veera Simha Reddy strangely breaks conventions when it comes to several subjects. In a traditional household, having an unmarried child and a lady choose her own partner are not viewed as catastrophic events. In this movie, families don’t seem like typical ones at all. These times, though, are few and far between. As much as Gopichand does to keep you interested, the film is enhanced by the photography of Rishi Punjabi and the music composed by Thaman S. But you start to grow tired of seeing Balakrishna use swag to fend off villains after seeing it happen at least thrice in an hour. Another big spoiler is how long the movie is.
Balakrishna’s flick Veera Simha Reddy is his film in its entirety. But although he succeeds as Veera, he falls short as Jai. You feel like paying attention whenever the man wears all black; his cloying makeup and lackluster performance as the other character detract from that. Varalaxmi truly comes in second, able to hold her own against him and demonstrating that she is a skillful actor as well as a strong opponent. Honey and Duniya both do a good job in their roles. One can’t help but feel that Gopichand mistreated Shruti after Krack. She plays a role who is simply there to shake a leg, and she looks amazing doing it.
5. Bhagavanth kesari
Anil Ravipudi, the director of the much awaited film Bhagavanth Kesari, brought an impressive ensemble cast to the screen, featuring Nandamuri Balakrishna, Sree Leela, Kajal Aggarwal, and Arjun Rampal. Fundamentally, the movie emphasizes the empowerment of young females by deftly fusing action, passion, and thought-provoking discourse.
The portrayal of Bhagavanth Kesari by Balakrishna is simply captivating. He moves between his recognizable, larger-than-life figure and the subtle emotional depth needed for his character’s connection with Vijji with ease. The audience is moved by the on-screen chemistry between Balakrishna and Sree Leela, who play Vijji and Chicha, respectively.
The way Sree Leela portrayed Vijji is praiseworthy. Her transformation from a timid young girl struggling with anxiety to a self-assured and independent young lady is expertly depicted. She leaves a lasting impression by not only embracing her role but also soaring through her action scenes. While portraying Kaachi, Kajal Aggarwal exudes charm on film, yet some of her exchanges with Kesari could have been more natural. Arjun Rampal is a sophisticated and stylish antagonist who might use some more creative writing in his character journey. Supporting parts were portrayed by R Sarathkumar, Muralidhar Goud, Brahmaji, Subhalekha Sudhakar, Raghu Babu, and other actors.
S Thaman’s musical score for the movie enhances the experience, particularly in the second part. Bhagavanth Kesari is a fun film to watch because of its excellent production values and cinematography, which further improve the film’s overall visual appeal. Considering the popularity of Balakrishna and the skill of Sree Leela’s dance, the songs were passable but lacked a little something special.
Although there was potential for a more compelling story in the first half, the film really hits its stride in the second half, which offers a gratifying balance of action and emotion. Bhagavanth Kesari is a living example of the perseverance and strength of women’s empowerment. But see the film for what it is: a commercial entertainment.
When talking to a friend about relationship problems, the movie’s male lead, Ashwin, an architect who returned to the US (Vivek Gomber), says he can’t be the kind of guy who texts or phones women at random if that’s what they expect. A few minutes later, he picks up the phone to speak with his live-in Maharashtrian maid, Ratna (Tillotama Shome), who is away for three days attending her sister’s village wedding. After a little hesitation, he answers, “Nahi, Aise hi phone kiya,” to her question, “Sir, Kuch kaam tha kya?” feeling a little confused without her in his own home. Even if they don’t communicate much, both of them can understand the meaning of the phone call. You do things you tell yourself you won’t do because of love.
Rohena, the director Gera’s SIR is full of beautiful moments like these. They assist you in deciphering the feelings that are unsaid when two people meet their soul match in the most improbable of circumstances. Despite the stark differences in class, Gera skillfully juxtaposes the main characters and uses the language of silence to highlight their similarities. Emotional distress and loneliness do not distinguish between the wealthy and the impoverished.
The romantic drama deviates from the typical tales in this genre, which portray the woman as a helpless victim or sacrifice and the man as the savior. Instead, it follows a different pattern: the rich boy-poor girl. Ratna may not have formal education or be a well-spoken speaker, but she is a strong warrior who challenges social standards. She is a young widow with more life and survival experience than a New Yorker trying to mend a broken romance in Mumbai. He finds it difficult to understand how she completes him. Despite her meager means, she attempts to pursue her own aspirations and gives him the strength to do the same. This isn’t your usual narrative of a wealthy man helping a poor woman get better. Here, the prince can appear without the help of his Cinderella wore a stunning dress, great makeup, and high-heeled glass shoes. She knows him better than anybody else, so even as she continues to do her daily housework, he falls in love with her.
When Ashwin “sir” asks Ratna if she wants to become a tailor, she responds emphatically that she wants to be a fashion designer. Dreams don’t come with a diploma in her world. And in his, labels from society take center stage above emotions. When the maid tries to browse a posh Mumbai fashion boutique, she is humiliated and shown the door in a scene reminiscent of Julia Roberts from Pretty Woman. Nothing, however, stops her from assuring herself that a servant has the same right to self-actualization as everyone else. While the treatment remains realistic and complex, the writing doesn’t exude bias or hate—rather, it exudes optimism and hope. “How can you possibly date your maid? “is a query Ashwin’s friend asks him. While not patronizing, the statement raises questions for a third party who isn’t delusional about love.
With a duration of less than two hours, the movie exudes a seductive, smoldering atmosphere. The most striking thing is how the slow-burning emotional connection develops. The characters are visibly close to one another even though they hardly ever interact or converse. It’s difficult to find this in modern love stories. Women write great love stories because their minds notice things that men miss. If this seems biased, so be it.
The expansive home in a luxurious high-rise, Mumbai, the sea, and other locations are all deftly used as major characters in the somber cinematography. The city is an equalizer because it is a land of opportunity. Living in the same house in adjacent rooms are two persons who are attracted to each other but don’t say anything about it. Additionally symbolic, the walls between them allude to Ratna and Ashwin’s situation of being both very close and very far away.
Vivek Gomber and Tillotama Shome are excellent as two individuals who have to express and hide their emotions. Ashwin and Ratna are difficult characters to depict because they require a delicate balance between bravery and innocence, expression and restraint. The story is given a sense of natural kindness and compassion by the actors, along with simplicity and honesty. Without these two, it would be hard to understand “SIR.” Among them, Tillotama gives one of her best performances. She arouses empathy and holds your attention throughout the narrative without allowing her character wallow in self-pity. In her crucial supportive role as Ratna’s confidante Laxmi, Geetanjali Kulkarni, who is both vulnerable and combative, provides an alternative viewpoint to the typical class gap. The emotional chats and scooter rides with Ratna and Laxmi are freeing.Dhanush is the standout of Sir; his flawless performance and dominating .
There’s no denying that Srikanth Odela’s Dasara, his debut film, is a mixed bag. The film is visually captivating, the characters look like they have more to give, and the atmosphere gives the impression that everything could fall apart at any moment. However, Srikanth either establishes themes that he never completely investigates or, worse, draws hurried conclusions from them. Because of this, the sucker punches land hard on you while the others barely miss.
Veerlapally is the location. It is customary to drink at the Silk Bar, which is named after the proprietor’s fondness for Silk Smitha; it is not an addiction. Even though everyone is putting money into the bar, casteism is still very much alive and well, therefore not everyone is allowed inside. To the dismay of the village’s ladies, the men don’t appear to mind. Because of the coal mining in the area, everyone always seems to be covered in a layer of soot. In their power struggle, Rajanna (Sai Kumar), Shivanna (Samuthirakani), and the latter’s son Chinna Nambi (Shine Tom Chacko) usually prevail since they control the booze.
Dharani (Nani) has had a lot of worries since she was a young child. When he was younger, if he heard a cat scream nearby, he would lose control of his bladder and would prefer not to speak up in awkward situations. No one is surprised when Dharani is often seen with bottles hanging around his waist; one day, his grandmother informs him that she drinks to keep anxiety at away. His greatest buddy is Suri (Deekshith Shetty), and Dharani will stop at nothing to support him. Even if it means ‘giving up’ his feelings for Keerthy Suresh’s character Vennela, who also has feelings for Suri alone.Even though Dharani and his group of misfits would want to be left alone to engage in their shenanigans, steal coal off of trains, and drink themselves to death, they end up getting sucked into something far bigger. A problem escalates, covert plans are exposed, and the body count rises until Dharani is forced to confront his anxieties on his own, without the support of Suri and alcohol, his reliable allies.
The majority of the opening part of the movie features Srikanth establishing the Veerlapally universe and its inhabitants. He gives the little things plenty of attention. As everyone’s life are turned upside down by something significant, you anticipate Srikanth to give it his all in the second half. Rather, he allows his characters to be in their feelings. This does not always translate into scenarios that hold your attention. Some songs are too heavy, some don’t keep your interest, and the highly anticipated song Chamkeela Angeelesi suddenly appears out of nowhere. Additionally, he skimps on the detail on several of the subjects he covers.
On the other hand, Srikanth provides with complete assurance. Not many moments from Dasara linger in your memory long after the movie ends. It’s not your typical “interval bang,” and the pre-interval is awesome. You never know where it will go from here. The director goes all out and doesn’t hold back in the violent and cathartic climax. Most of the emotionally charged scenes are effective, as are the hefty, elevated ones. In this reality, women suffer as a result of the decisions made by men, but they also occasionally have a voice.
Playing Dharani is Nani’s blood, sweat, and tears. This is arguably his most weighty film to date, second only to Jersey, and he bears it well. In certain scenes, Keerthy Suresh shines, but not in others. When she’s dancing at a baraat, she’s a pleasure to behold, but when she plays ham in a crucial part, you get annoyed. Shine Tom Chacko feels wasted in the other scenes, but he gets a chance to go crazy in one. This also applies to Samuthirakani and Sai Kumar. Deekshith and Poorna both do a good job in their roles. The film benefits greatly from Sathyan Sooryan’s photography and Santhosh Narayanan’s soundtrack.
In the film BRO, Samuthirakani takes on the role of director, adapting his Tamil film Vinodhaya Sitham. Regarding the main concept of the movie, he has the correct heart. But the execution seems rushed, with too many allusions to Pawan Kalyan’s political views and popular songs, and not enough focus on the central emotional theme of the whole thing.
Despite his youth, Markandeya, also known as Mark (Sai Tej), is the head of his family. Whenever he chastises them, he sees them more as a father figure than a brother, and everything he says is fair. When everything in his life seems to be going smoothly, everything suddenly changes drastically. After an accident, Titan (Pawan Kalyan) provides him another chance to make use of the one thing he never seemed to have enough of: time. Mark chooses to make sure his family is well taken care of before he dies, with just 90 days remaining. But was that really something his family needed him to do?
On paper, BRO’s narrative had the kind of feel-good, inspirational quality. That raises the question of how much actual control you have over your life. And no matter how little you do, how can you make sure that it’s lived in a way that prevents harm to others? Nevertheless, Samuthirakani decides to pad the movie with duets, special numbers, unexpected allusions to Pawan Kalyan’s career, and other things that don’t always work or, worse, dilute the emotions in an attempt to commercialize these very important themes.
Even though the movie’s fundamental concept has a lot of potential, BRO mainly depends on people going to the movies specifically to see Pawan Kalyan and Sai Tej. Their chemistry is easygoing, perhaps a bit too easygoing for the demands of the plot. For the most part, the first half of the movie keeps you interested. You smile when Pawan walks up to Emi Sodara or Vayyari Bhama and shows off his easygoing swagger while holding a tea glass. You’re craving more by the time he’s walking to La La Bheemla in slow motion in the second half.
On the other side, Sai Tej struggles with feelings. In the action or humorous scenes, he appears to be considerably more at ease. Ketika Sharma portrays his sweetheart, Priya Varrier one of his sisters, and Rohini his mother. Even while the female characters in this movie occasionally manage to hold their own, they are also limited to crying on screen. One wishes Brahmanandam’s cameo had been more skillfully woven in. Although Thaman doesn’t write very good songs, he does a fantastic job with the background score in a few important scenes in the movie. It’s just ok, Sujith Vaassudev’s cinematography. The movie was let down by the VFX and wardrobe department.
With Virupaksha, Karthik Varma Dandu (screenplay by Sukumar) crafts a successful horror movie. He states up front that there is a lot of gore in this story, so it will be difficult to read if you’re a squeamish person. There are scenes in the movie that you wish were cut shorter, but the filmmaker definitely does his job.
The decade is the 1990s. However, some individuals continue to base their morality on antiquated texts, which might result in deadly superstitions. Returning to his mother’s village of Rudravanam, Surya (Sai Dharam Tej) is preparing for a Modamamba Thalli jatara. The entire community, including Sarpanch Harischandra Prasad (Rajeev Kanakala), is occupied with getting ready for it. Surya falls deeply in love with Samyuktha’s Nandini, the sarpanch’s daughter. The past seems to be calling even as these two and another couple in the town appear to be deeply in love. Many deaths result from a series of incidents, and Surya looks for the main reason why.
Virupaksha had a good beginning. We see how fear and superstition drove some of the horrific decisions made in the 1970s. However, everything appears to be OK in the 1990s. Spending quality time with his cousin Samala and other villagers is something Surya and his mother do. Aside from a brief diversion from death to concentrate on the romance, the first half of the movie is highly sensual. It sounds more emotional than it is because of the dialogue. It has a payoff, but it makes you impatient.
The movie changes course in the second part. Even while the movie excels when it concentrates on the main plot, there are a few parts that may feel tedious. However, if you watch closely, you’ll see that the movie has been dropping hints for you to connect the dots. Would there have been a better climax? Yes. But all of a sudden, everything makes sense without forcing explanations down your neck.
Virupaksha is a masterfully made movie; the kind where the oppressive atmosphere pulls you in and lets you see the characters behind the performers. The kind that makes you wince but also makes you want to keep staring. And the crew deserves appreciation for that. Ajaneesh Loknath’s background score and sound design are excellent; they really capture the atmosphere of the majority of the situations. Kartik’s direction and Shamdat’s cinematography are both excellent. The finest thing is that, even though the movie contains jump scares, it doesn’t rely only on them to keep you interested.
Even when he’s thrust right into the thick of things, Sai Dharam Tej manages to carry off a role that largely calls for him to be laid back. Samyuktha is given a role that allows her to act, and she does it brilliantly. While actors such as Sai Chand, Brahmaji, Ajay, Rajeev Kanakala, and Syamala do a great job in their roles, Sunil’s character comes off as erratic and superfluous overall.Promoting superstition can cross a fine line when it comes to telling tales of those who are engulfed in it. In Virupaksha, there may be scenes that leave you wondering if the filmmakers are staying inside that bound. But you’re invested enough in the story for the most of the movie to accept the vision, which is a success.
In Baby, Telugu filmmaker Sai Rajesh presents a love story that hasn’t been seen in Telugu cinema for a long. The film is a jumble of concepts, some of which are troublesome, some of which are good, some of which are not fully realized, and some of which are conveyed so delicately that you have to question whether you’ve understood them all.
A lively little girl named Vaishnavi (Vaishnavi Chaitanya) has nothing but eyes for Anand (Anand Deverakonda). When her eyes shine at the mere sight of him, it doesn’t matter why she loves him. Anand quickly feels the same way and even gets her permission to do so. Anand starts driving an auto to make ends meet, while Vaishnavi finishes school and moves away from their modest life in the basti to attend an exclusive institution. Now in Vaishnavi’s life, a new life, friends, and a lad named Viraj (Viraj Ashwin) are waiting for her. What transpires, though, that might split these lovers apart?
On the one hand, Baby seems to be a story that any insecure man with a savior complex, a dislike of change, and a need to be validated may cling to. However, it also seems to be a story that casts a harsh light on a culture that is all too ready to condemn women for making sincere, sometimes desperate attempts to find happiness whenever and wherever they can. The film’s scenes alternate between these two, leaving one to wonder if Sai Rajesh overreached in his attempts to be impartial and appeal to as many types of viewers as possible. However, the drama full of tragedy is really good when he does focus.
Consider the main characters as an example. It is implied that Vaishnavi is the kind of lady who would make fun of someone who is inconsiderate of her. However, she also comes out as too innocent to be real, and some of the decisions she ultimately makes don’t seem very solid. Anand is the kind of man who’s adept at reading his girlfriend’s vocal and non-verbal clues, ensuring he doesn’t violate limits. But in a flash of wrath, he also easily exceeds the line. Viraj is the wealthy boy whose goals aren’t always obvious and who needs to be given more depth. All of this gives the characters a beautifully gray quality, but the movie also suffers from succumbing to problematic gender-neutral clichés. Furthermore, Tollywood must eventually abandon its poisonous notions about how to handle heartbreak.
Vijay Bulganin’s compositions and performances make the movie work. Vijay is on cue with the actors on screen to assist you feel the emotions that the primary performers experience, whether they are sadness, swooning, or an unfathomable feeling. The music also doesn’t seem to be a hindrance. Both Viraj Ashwin and Anand Deverakonda give their all to the parts. In particular, Anand’s performance really grabs you in a few of his sequences. However, without Vaishnavi, who makes a fantastic silver screen debut, this movie wouldn’t be the same. And in spite of these shortcomings, Sai Rajesh writes really captivating passages. For the most part, he even succeeds in keeping things surprising.