"Legend" (Telugu) Film Review

"Legend" is a mighty entertainer that is more intense than a T20 match and a perfect film for Balayya's aging persona which suits his films one way - the highway of high-octane action, violence, anti-gravity stunts and rabble-rousing and of course, sentiment. The film generated unprecedented buzz after its satellite rights were bought by Gemini for Rs.9 crores - that's the highest for any Telugu film. 

"Legend" is all about a 160 minute duel between the family of Balakrishna and Jagapathi Babu, a factionist who thrives on terrorising people and building capital. Jagapathi Babu sets foot on Vizag for a marriage alliance and runs into rough weather with Suman, father of Elder Balayya over a road accident. Jagapathi Babu is chastised by the folks and hauled up. Unrepentent Jagapathi Babu decides to make Vizag his new "adda" and systematically eliminates Balayya's mother and father Suman. Enraged, the young Balayya annihilates the brotherly gang of Jagapathi Babu. The never-ending saga of violence forces young Balayya's grandmother to isolate him into oblivion and pack off the younger one, again Balayya to Dubai. Destiny pulls both into finding their mojo in  aggrandizing weapons when confronted by Jagapathi & Co. On the whole, a regular fare but when you infuse this story with many layers of masala fare, glam dolls Sonal Chauhan and Radhika Apte to serenede the two Balayyas, an item song, bazooka violence, and  the tested  "Basha" flashback trick to elevate the character of the elder Balayya, the fans have got the feast of a lifetime from director Boyapati Seenu.

Performance-wise Balakrishna sizzles as the elder Balayya. He has the best dialogues in the film and delivered them with all the weighty modulations they deserve. His body language has shifted over the years with non-invasive hand-movements (unlike the late NTR) and that is working wonders for Balayya and getting scripts that dovetail.  The absence of other big stars in that space of godfatherly roles has increased the charishma of Balayya whenever he dons such roles. Boyapati Seenu's  strength in exploiting Balayya's strengths on screen once again creates a magical chord as the crowds erupt in joy and clap louder than the sounds spewed out of multiplex speakers. Dialogues by M Ratnam are some of the sharpest as the lines insinuate all glory of the Nandamuri lineage and take potshots at the new princes, submerged leaders and politics defining our age. 

The surprise packet in the film is Jagapathi Babu who reinvents himself as the salt-and-peppered hair villain with a million-buck beard and a baritone that haunts. It is not easy to flaunt an overnight body language for a villain when the opponent is a legend like Balayya. But with minimal dialogues and maximum eye-ball movement and subtle body language, Jagapathi hit a home run that will surely get him meaty roles. He has less than half page dialogue but registers his screen presence strongly against a verbose but imposing Balayya. 

There are weaknesses in the film, though. Story is the biggest letdown. Boyapati has picked two mighty stars in hero-antihero roles but hasn't concentrated on giving their confrontations the mileage it deserves. There is no variety, creativity or chutzpah to underscore the duel between the two. By choosing a story that just shows Jagapathi spitting venom all the time against Balayya's family and about four not-so-strong scenes of confrontation, director lost a golden opportunity. Even in Mahabharata, the story between two families had unprecedented twists but this one is just a tailfish story with grotesque violence upon grotesque violence. Boyapati concentrated on showing Jagapathi in one way throughout the film but it must be said that that may work wonders for his career because Jagapathi can save his new tricks for a pronounced career as a villain.

Incredulity is another weakness. So much anarchy happens in mainstream Vizag and the police is shown hand-in-gloves with wilful criminals vandalizing people and properties. Violence also grates. More people are routinely killed, shot dead or butchered in this film than all the people who died for the cause of Telangana. By showing a juvenile Balakrishna (son of Balakrishna?) who kills thirty people in 12 seconds, Boyapati Seenu had shown children can get glorified in their violence - a shameful feat that will remain unparalleled. No wonder, the film got A certificate. Films like this may even become blockbuster films but the atavaism they promote will come back to haunt our society more.

Music wise DSP gives a different twist to the tunes- they are catchy and peppy and a few songs stand out in melody and rhythms. Radhika Apte, the girl who acted in "Rakta Charitra" sizzles in the film better than Sonal Chauhan. Brahmanandam is actually a bore in the film, don't take him seriously. The one who steals her share of limelight is the lady who plays Balayya's grandmother - watch out for her as the new maternal mom, last seen in "English Vinglish". The scene where a set of MLAs discuss what the voter wants in today's democracy is the most telling commentary on the state of affairs - that is itself a paisa vasool sequence.  On the whole, a comprehensive masala film with an overdose of violence. It deserves 3 out of 5. But don't go near it if you hate violence.

Khushwant Singh - the man with the pen which didn't have a condom!

At 99, Khushwant Singh would have been the oldest Indian writer of pre-Independence era to vote in the ensuing elections but death bowled him out before he could turn 100. For millions of Indians, Khushwant Singh has democratised writing in ways that even his peers and legends who followed him, couldn't. His writing unlike some of his Nobel Prize co...ntemporaries had a magical mixture of elegance, simplicity, information, amusement and food for thought.

It will take many biographers, maybe the likes of Humra Quereshi and Shobhaa De to cover his majestic sweep of works in prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction, travelogues, histories and biographies, edited anthologies, letters, reviews, essays, obits, profiles and of course, those jokes on everything the Indians love and abhor. You can take "Train to Pakistan" as a moving novel that's semi-autobiographical. Or, you can discuss his stamp of authority in volumes on "The History of Sikhs" (which can be compared in affections and passion for one's homeland with Winston Churchill's body of work in "The History of the English-speaking people"). The man has written about thirty two books and nearly a dozen short stories. He has edited such diverse newspapers and periodicals like "Yojana" (a neat journal on economic issues) and "Hindustan Times" and "National Herald". And he has edited a periodical which fired a generation of readers, including my father, who were trying to unshackle the colonial pangs. Known as the "Illustrated Weekly of India", Khushwant Singh made it a national rage covering topics from economics, politics, art and religion to buxom beauties and saffron swamijis. That it sold over four lakh copies at its peak should tell you how reader-centric Khushwant Singh was. He wrote on sex and sublime matters with ease and always cared for the reader who read his writings with respect, humility and time-sense. You could measure each piece of his for the insights per page; if there was no insight it humored you well with low-downs on people that entertained you.

I got introduced to Khushwant Singh's writings by my father - that propelled me to take up atleast part-time writing, it spruced up my life in ways I cannot imagine. My father used to read out loud his column "With Malice towards One and All", make me underline crafty expressions and turns of phrase and fetch their meanings. Just his range of writing is enough to inspire many writers into the profession of reporting and writing. It is inconceivable he had an opinion on so many aspects of our culture, literature, polity and socio-economic situations.

I still bump into many strangers and acquaintances who bond me with in their love for Khushwant's writing style. While I have followed most of his writings and books, it is the step-up in the pace of his writing during the last ten years that amazes me. In this period, he penned his autobiography "Truth, Love and a little malice" which summed his life in the most honest manner including his foibles and false loyalties with fallen angels like Indira Gandhi and her son Sanjay Gandhi. He wrote a few more pieces of fiction: "The Sunset Club", "Burial At Sea" and "The portrait of a lady". He encouraged more compilations of his pieces including those that hijacked his tranquility (as he was forced to respond more cheekily and non-chalantly): titles like "The End of India', "Inside the Great Indian Circus", "Book of Unforgettable Women", "Why I supported the Emergency", "Death at my doorstep." and more books on malice, jokes and gossip.

Three books stand out for those who love to read more of the humanist and the freethinker he was till the very end. One is "The Khushwant Singh treasury" which includes his favorite prayers, poems, proverbs and profanities for each of day of the year. An entry for 18 November reads thus: "Work is worship, worship is not work". For 19 March: "The one commodity we Indians are never short of - natural gas".

Two, a book of profiles compiled with Humra Quraishi "The Good, The Bad and the Ridiculous" which gives a peep into his lust for painting even the drabbest personality with colors an spice. You could read just two profiles on Dhirendra Brahmachari and Giani Zail Singh to get the money's worth but there's more to it than the two much-maligned people.


Three, the last of his books published by Penguin India in 2013 called "Khushwantnama: The Lessons of my life" - an abridged autobiography for those who dont' have patience for reading all his life's labor, it contains the right chapters about the man's life along with his views that will bone you up with stuff to get inspired. The chapters have so much of wisdom that it can be an epiphany for those who share his interests in the state of the nation, the state of writing in India, what it takes to be a writer, the twelve rules to live long and happy, use of humor as a lethal weapon, state of journalism in India, dealing with death and the importance of Gandhi.


While I regret I haven't been been able to meet or exchange a word with him, I feel connected with him through his writing like millions of readers. Reading his concise writing pulls you into a fellowship of articulateness that speaks much about the man and his values- on how to be a good Indian, a tolerant Indian, an Indian who loves the roots but is truly secular, doesn't put religion before humanism, loves life, celebrates controversy and good sex in utmost loyalty, get disciplined about lifestyle, laughs at self more often and develop good humor and helping nature at all times. Khushwant Singh has achieved every award in India - from Sahitya Akademi Award to Rockfeller Grant and the coveted Padma Bhushan and Padma Vibhushan in time unlike writers like Anita Desai and Ruskin Bond who only got Padma Shri late. He lived a life rich with action throughout -whether as a diplomat, lawyer, teacher, editor or a writer. He was not the craftiest writer who wins Pulitzers and Nobels but he carried himself well right through his innings.

Someone asked Khushwant Singh his comment about being a prolific writer. His response: "No one has yet invented a condom for the pen." Long live the pen in its modern format. Long live Khushwant Singh - the man who erased his original date of birth, 2nd February and celebrates his birthday on the 15th of August. R.I.P.KS.

And the Oscar doesn't go to...

And the Oscar doesn't go to...

So even the Oscars couldn't defy "Gravity" its anti-gravity moment. The mexican director would have lived out his space in  trance as his film bagged seven oscars out of ten. Predictable? Not so much. Or maybe. Because over the years, the awards have a degree of giving out max to those films which generate the maximum adulation from the global audience. This could be because the Hollywood Studios and their gargantuan think-tanks are hitting  a dry run when it comes to big markets like China, HongKong, India, and the MiddleEast where cultural dissimilarities are making their films come a cropper. "Gravity" collected Rs.62 crores in Indian theatres despite the hoopla. "Dookudu" and "Gabbar Singh" generated a higher RoI than that film.

On that count, you can see why films like "Slumdog Millionaire" and "Gravity" sweep the awards even if with  diluted standards and dumbing down of English for the global audience. It is like a Miss World contest or Miss Universe contest - Hollywood which represents the apogee of American Culture wants  and crowns film-makers who strike gold with more eyeballs rather than film-makers who are altruistic (Oliver Stone), brazenly American (Martin Sorcerese), uncompromising (Steven Spielberg) or self-obsessed and controversial (Woody Allen).

 If the trend continues, 20 years down the lane, I think there will be more foreign language films competing for the Oscars or film-makers with the American sensibilities but a global pulse like Eduardo. That leaves the Indians with a terrific opportunity - don't make films for the Oscars, try to beat them in sensibilities and cultural opulence and larger-than-life sliceness. One day, with SFX a "Bahubali" or a "Hanuman" or a "Mahabharat" will gross as much as a Spidey or a Batman. Americans have killed more film industries since the 1920s by their clinical imperialism of the culture of Americana which has a distinct closeness with most Western cultures except the Koreans, the Chinese and the Indians. Watching the Oscars this time became more boring than a Pogo channel where the anchor hustles with a masked face. No wonder, the Oscars are now looked down by those who covet the BAFTAs, the Golden Globes, the Cannes or now the Sundance where unconventional yardsticks of measuring success are bringing out such exciting films like "Boyhood" and "Wajdah" (2012). 

On the contrary, Oscars are still stuck on  criteria that the critics and the audiences don't seem to agree often but are determined by quixotic whims and messages from the masters who call the shots at the industry. Any idea why Sandra Bullock didn't get the best actress award? Any thoughts why Leonardo Dicaprio continues to be at the non-receiving end of the awards? Despite a uni-dimensional way of judging the films, the Oscars get the maximum mileage but still lesser than what the Superbowl or FIFA World Cup command. 

Today, close to seven billion people are watching films and a fraction of them are wanting to make films in as many unique way as their sensibilities and paradigms motivate them to. The Oscars can go to anybody who is trained to give a well-rehearsed elevator speech. But lets not think that their success is a benchmark - don't be misled by the UNESCO heritage-type statements going out when the Oscar goes to a film that talks about slavery in Africa, a war waged in Afghanistan or Iraq or a legend in South Africa. There are more ways to watch a film, make a film and even review a film. Remember tonite that Oscars may be more anti-diluvian in ways you haven't  yet realised.