Bhagavanth Kesari review: Balakrishna and Anil Ravipudi dabble with girlboss feminism

When Bhagavanth Kesari wants to intimidate some bad guys, his aide hands him a massive gun like the ones from Vikram or KGF and tells him, “This has been working for everyone lately, you should try it too.” But Bhagavanth pushes it aside, saying people expect something more “loud” from him. He sets off a bunch of industrial oxygen cylinders that go hurtling towards the villains’ cars, making them somersault.

It’s exactly like one of those Balakrishna action scenes that people love to make troll videos of. Balakrishna and director Anil Ravipudi seem to be trying to scream that they “don’t care” about ‘trolls’ who find them ‘cringeworthy’, and will continue to stay true to their style of commercial Tollywood filmmaking. But some of these sporadic unhinged moments aside, Bhagavanth Kesari (tagline: I Don’t Care) badly wants to marry this devil-may-care style with more experimental trends in mainstream action dramas that have been successful lately, and ends up in a really messy relationship.

Nandamuri Balakrishna (NBK) plays Nelakonda Bhagavanth Kesari (NBK), a self-proclaimed ‘son of the forest’ from Adilabad. He is introduced in prison as a convict with multiple spine-chilling backstories. In RRR, Balakrishna’s nephew Jr NTR is introduced with a thrilling tiger chase, to underline his formidable physical strength. But in Bhagavanth Kesari, Anil Ravipudi uses an inventive narrative technique – tell, don’t show! NBK simply has to narrate cursory flashbacks of fighting tigers on his way back from tuition class, of decapitating people, committing mass murders, etc. for people to shiver and back off.

Which is not to say there is any dearth of action sequences, and they’re fairly well choreographed too. But Bhagavanth’s might, and the outcome of each fight, seems independent of the number of people or weaponry involved, or any real-world power structures. He is vulnerable or immune at the convenience of plot progression.

Like other Tollywood stars, Balakrishna has faced increased criticism lately for choosing age-inappropriate roles and co-stars, and also for his recurring sexist remarks. Anil Ravipudi too has been slammed for sexist ‘wife jokes’ and ‘rape jokes’ in his previous films. This film fixes all of that by drilling into women’s heads that they should get over themselves and just be a tough guy girl.

NBK gets out of jail thanks to a kind jailor (R Sarath Kumar), who dies in an accident and leaves behind an orphaned child, Vijayalakshmi (Sreeleela). NBK raises her indulgently as a proxy father, but also wants to proxy-impose her father’s dream of making her join the Indian Army. Two problems here: Vijji has no interest in the Army, she just wants to marry her boyfriend. She is also traumatised by her father’s sudden death and has frequent panic attack episodes in high-stress situations. Too bad for her, the psychologists in Bhagavanth Kesari (and the film itself) have the expertise of an engineering student who has read the back-cover blurbs of a bunch of pop psych books.

NBK has his own nemesis, Rahul Sanghvi (Arjun Rampal), an evil drug smuggling business tycoon on a quest of world domination with the ruling political party in his pocket. Arjun Rampal’s performance as a suave vile man is reminiscent of his Mukesh Mehra from Om Shanti Om, but the dialogue makes him sound like an eight-year-old in a playground fight. (“Who’s the smartest? Say my name.”) In a cat and mouse game with Rahul, NBK must protect Vijji while also training her for the Army so she becomes all resilient and self defence-y.

Kathyayani (Kajal Aggarwal) is a psychologist who is into NBK. Her advice to help Vijji get over her ‘phobia’ seems as informed as hitting someone on the head a second time to undo memory loss. In the process of ‘empowering’ Vijji, she says things like “The most beautiful thing you can wear is *confidence*.” There are side characters who keep saying women should stay at home to look after their husband and kids, so that NBK can keep educating them about (girlboss) feminism.

This heady mix of pop psychology and pop feminism gives us lines like “Girls must be like lion cubs, not fawns.” Almost out of nowhere comes a tear-jerking scene where NBK explains to an auditorium full of little girls and mothers how to recognise and report child sexual abuse. While peppering the film with rape threats to goons as apparently comical, mass-y dialogues (in a Telangana dialect that rolls off his tongue like a foreign language). Why bother with ideas like agency, intersectional feminism, etc. when you can just listen to your sacrificial father figure who’ll tell you what to do.

If one tries to put themselves in the shoes of Balakrishna fans, it’s possible to comprehend some of the film’s appeal. Thaman’s music and C Ramprasad’s cinematography are passable, and the screenplay flows well. The comedy doesn’t work, but it’s a big improvement from Anil Ravipudi’s previous films if that’s not something you enjoy.

But even as a formulaic film hinging on the heroism of the male star, the formula itself is confusing. Why is the hero a ‘son of the forest’ from Adilabad? Who exactly are the bad guys in each context? Whose lives are worth saving and whose are dispensable? Why is the son of a superstar dissing nepotism while using songs from his father’s films for fan service? Why is the real-life legislator saying cops can be heroes but politicians are invariably spineless? What is heroism? Unclear. But anyway, slay queen!

Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.