The Pen in Hand Guide to the Movies: Review of "RRR" by Geoff Carter« The Pen in Hand Blog

Dani Charles Silverscreen Media Inc. (https://silverscreen.in), CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Epic Fun: Film Review of RRR by Geoff Carter

From nearly the first frame of the epic film RRR, the viewer is whisked up and taken on an incredible whirlwind of frenetic action, reimagined history, fantastically exotic settings, espionage, revolution, brotherhood, and—really?—a phenomenally exuberant dance sequence. In fact, so much is packed into this film, it deserves at least one repeat viewing to take in everything fully.

Based partly—and very loosely—on the real-life Indian revolutionaries Alluri Sitarama Raju (Ram Charan) and Khomaram Bheem (Rama Rao), the film reimagines what might have happened had the two men actually met, even though in actuality their paths never crossed. Writer and director S.S. Rajamouli has stated in interviews that he was influenced in this revisionist speculation by Quentin Tarantino’s reimagining of the fate of the Nazis in World War II.

The film begins with the abduction of a young girl Mali (Twinkle Sharma) from her forest tribe by Katherine Buxton (Alison Doody), the wife of English Governor Scott Buxton (Ray Stevenson). Furious, Bheem, in his role as the tribe’s protector, goes to Delhi to retrieve the young girl. Alerted to Bheem’s presence, the governor’s wife enlists ambitious officer Raju to neutralize the threat. Raju goes undercover, attending pro-independence rallies in an attempt to track down his quarry. After months of fruitless searching by both men, Raju fools Lachhu (Rahul Ramakrishna), Bheem’s friend, and nearly infiltrates the revolutionary’s inner circle.

A short while later, both men—unaware of each other’s identities—are present during a train wreck and join forces (in an over-the-top jaw-dropping action sequence) to save the boy. They subsequently become friends and the more worldly Raju helps Bheem court the governor’s niece Jenny (Olivia Morris) who invites Bheem to the governor’s palace where he discovers Mali.

Raju discovers and mercilessly interrogates Lachhu, who goads a lethal snake into attacking his tormentor. Seeing his friend near death, Bheem saves him by using a tribal remedy; in the process, Raju realizes Bheem’s true identity. When his friend attacks the governor’s palace in an attempt to free Mali, he is captured. Raju is promoted for capturing Bheem, who is subsequently flogged for his actions. Refusing to capitulate, Bheem sings in protest, inciting the crowd at the flogging to riot.

Raju’s true identity as a pro-nationalist posing as a police officer in order to gain access to arm is revealed through a flashback of his boyhood. Fraught with guilt over betraying his friend—even as collateral damage for his cause—Raju devises a plan to free Bheem and Mali. They escape, but Raju’s true identity is discovered by the governor.

Discovering Raju’s true identity, Bheem goes to the prison where he is being held and with superhuman effort, frees his friend. Together, after a fierce, protracted, and almost supernatural battle, they go to the governor’s palace to exact their final revenge.

In creating this epic sprawling brawl of a film, Rajamouli not only draws upon histories of Indian revolutionaries and uprisings but also channels elements of Hindu mythology, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Sitarama and Bheem, whose personalities are reflective of these mythic heroes, even borrow their names from Raman and Bima, the heroes of these epics.

The friendship between these two men is not only symbolic of the solidarity in the fight against British colonialism, but also addresses unity in Rajamouli’s home state of Andra Pradesh, which was bifurcated in 2014. These epic heroes (like most superheroes) are also united in their mission to do good in the world.

While channeling—and revising—Indian revolutionary history, mythological heroic epics, extraordinarily choreographed action sequences, and an attack sequence featuring dozens of animals (reminiscent of Avatar), RRR attains sort of an alternative hyper-reality. Viewers of film are used to glossing over reality, of utilizing that “suspension of disbelief” which allows them to accept the reality that characters in movie musicals will snap into a song or a dance routine and then fall right back into the narrative as if nothing has happened. The beautifully choreographed dance sequence Naatu Naatu (extremely unrealistic on a number of planes) is glorious in its inception while—once again—metaphorically representing the cultural wars between East and West.

In RRR, the sequence in which two complete strangers combine forces in an intricately executed plan to rescue a boy from a flaming train wreck pulls the narrative so far out of an empirically based reality, it not only becomes mythic but also surreal—almost dreamlike. The very fact that it cannot—in only known laws of the universe—be real invests it not with credibility or veracity, but with the naked power of faith. This film, like Inglorious Basterds, is not so much history as it is wish fulfillment. It is also a confirmation of the mythological heroic narrative and the national identity of the great country of India. It’s what should have happened.

In the last great fight sequence, the friends find a shrine to Rama with a longbow. They take it and use it to dispatch the British soldiers sent to kill them. In a glorious showcase of martial art film tropes blended with cultural artifacts from their mythological heritage, the final fight sequence is a perfect metaphor for the combination of belief, hope, aspiration, and dreams. It is a blended—and action-packed—surreality.

The exuberance, brilliance, and audacity of RRR—as well as the utter confidence with which it switches intra-genre gears—is reminiscent of last year’s sci-fi/family values/martial arts epic Everything Everywhere All at Once. Here again is a film that stretches expectations and conventions to bridge access to meaning on constantly shifting planes of realities. The viewer’s disbelief is more than willingly suspended as they are drawn into a kaleidoscopic vortex of imagination, action, and even philosophical exploration.

This willingness to expand the lexicon of film, and with it our understanding of inner realities represented in the cinema, is as refreshing as a gin and tonic on a summer day. While recent films like Tar, Triangle of Sadness, and The Banshees of Inisherin push the envelope of how film can tackle themes of class equity, power, friendship, and art in fresh and evocative ways, they are not stretching the medium itself.

American film is first and foremost a commodity. While smaller films like Tar, The Whale, and Women Talkinggarner critical success and offer important thematic content, most are modest investments. Yet they are still getting made. The big films (usually with superheroes) like Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, Top Gun: Maverick, or Avatar: The Way of Water—movies united by the common threads of predictability, marketability, and popularity—are not usually pioneers in cinematic innovation (minus the technological wonders created by special effects), but they make one hell of a lot of money.

And they make money precisely because of their predictability; the people know what they want. But with the advent of screen-stretchers like RRR and Everything, pop culture might be undergoing a renaissance of form and content; these films stretch and connect inner, outer, and social realities in increasingly seamless ways.

These are exciting times for the movies. This is going to be epic.