Rangasthalam is like a novel. In its first few pages, this fictitious dusty village of the 80s reveals itself gradually. The dialect is rooted, not a generic one that mainstream films present in a broad brushstroke for instant appeal. The story is not entirely new. A President (Jagapathi Babu), whose real name the villagers have forgotten since they’ve addressed him only by his position of power for three decades, covertly usurps land. Forged loan accounts drive gullible, uneducated farmers to despair. A slow uprising happens, bolstered by an educated man who’s returning home.
- Cast : Ram Charan, Aadhi Pinisetty and Samantha Akkineni
- Direction : Sukumar
- Music : Devi Sri Prasad
Sukumar infuses life into this story with his astute writing, and is helped by his committed technical team and actors.
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Rathnavelu (cinematographer) bathes the village in earthy tones of brown, and the art department fills the frames with details. The wide canvas is busy. The arid landscape and the barely-there water channels tell a story. Whether it’s an adda under a tree or a marketplace where people jostle for space, there’s always something to notice in the background. The space looks lived in rather than a film set, and the knick-knacks used by people look real and worn with use, the way they should be.
The character introductions happen mirthfully, complemented by Devi Sri Prasad’s upbeat music. The sound of Rangasthalam is worth a larger discussion too. Chitti Babu ‘sees’ the drums than ‘hearing’ them. He pulls out the hearing aid which his brother Kumara Babu (Aadhi Pinisetty) buys for him because he doesn’t want the village hottie Ramalakshmi (Samantha) to know that he’s hard on hearing. Chitti’s impediment leads to fun sequences. Alongside, you know that he’ll eventually regret not using the hearing device.
As story arcs go, certain things can be sensed a mile away. You sense the impending danger when the President is antagonised and nomination papers are filed opposing him. The danger and the fear are for real. Sukumar builds on this, toys with our anticipation before the inevitable happens. The torchlight sequence in the fields at night is superbly shot.
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The celebration of rustic carnivals are contrasted later by the prolonged presentation of a death. This was a trope in the late 80s and early 90s when some Tamil and Telugu films lingered on a death sequence more than necessary. This film too walks that path but you give in to the emotional manipulation because the build-up to that situation is absorbing. Despite knowing what’s round the corner, your eyes well up.
A Lagaan -like situation has brothers Kumara Babu and Chitti Babu gathering support from villagers, to stand as ward members. Just as Ashutosh Gowariker’s villagers feel Bhuvan is foolhardy to challenge British might, here too people feel it’s a dead-end route. In this film too, a rough guy who hitherto seems unapproachable turns a friend and adds muscle to the uprising. The actors who appear in different small parts are all in sync with the story. The actor who plays Chitti Babu’s aide, Naresh and Rohini, the farmers are all believable. Samantha in her not-too-glamorous and yet arresting role is a revelation. Aadhi Pinisetty shines, once again, with a measured performance. Prakash Raj makes an impact as senior politician Dakshinamurthy.
While certain characters progress as expected, there are a few surprises. Rangamma attha (Anasuya), for instance. Gradually, you realise there will be a backstory to her. Anasuya does it well, from the glamorous introduction to the transformation.
The twist in the final act is a welcome one. After all, no one wants to watch a three-hour long film that’s utterly predictable.
Pooja Hegde’s item number looks out of place in an otherwise absorbing film.
Rangasthalam is descriptive like a novel. Stay with the languid pace, for there are several aspects to savour.