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A fool’s journey: Notes from a clowning workshop

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A fool’s journey: Notes from a clowning workshop

We all have an inner clown, a wild self whose yearning for delight is greater than the fear of failure. A little one who wants to play during nap time, convenience to others be damned. Underneath layers and layers of socialization, we each have a clown willing to risk heartbreak for joy. Or at least that’s the idea.

Clowning, an ancient art form that includes but is not limited to the red wigs and big shoes of the circus, is difficult to define. Filed under “physical comedy,” a clown communicates primarily through their body rather than words.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

Yulissa wears Balenciaga jacket and skirt, talent’s own shoes.

All I’m sure of is that without an audience — to play with, to laugh or not laugh, and hopefully cry and transform — there is no clown. I’ll admit: When I started, I wanted the benefits of clowning, namely feeling comfortable and even coming to enjoy reading my work in public, without any of the scary bits (and clowns in America have quite a scary reputation). I had asked my first clown teacher for private (read: audience-free) lessons. She chuckled over the phone: “It doesn’t work that way.” Thus began my fool’s journey, if you will, from scared and lost to scared and lost with a dash more openness to being vulnerable.

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I was glad I was wearing sneakers because I ended up running from the subway station to the midtown Manhattan building. I arrived at Room 315 on time and out of breath. It was a Saturday, and I was there for a two-day workshop, from noon to 5 p.m., with an hour break for lunch, with Christopher Bayes. His credentials, in a field where it feels funny to have them, include studying under clown masters Philippe Gaulier and Jacques Lecoq and working as the head of physical acting at Yale’s David Geffen School of Drama. While this all sounds technique-heavy, Bayes is known for valuing a heart-forward approach over an intellectual one. This was an honor for which I somehow justified paying $300.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.
Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

We began with introductions — names, pronouns, why we were there. “I’m a writer,” I said, picking one job, out of the three I had, most suited to the moment. “And I’m writing a piece on clowning.” I scanned the room and my eyes landed on A, whom I recognized from another workshop. Our faces lighted up. We smiled — and clowns must smile only when they’re actually happy since, as I learned in workshop, a smile is a mask — and waved to each other. When it was A’s turn, they explained that whatever they were seeking from psychoanalysis, they were finding in clowning.

In this group of about 25 people, there was also a theater director who flew all the way to New York from San Francisco to take this workshop. There were a lot of people who loved theater and hoped a more honest connection with audiences would bring them back.

Next were the warm-up exercises. We started shaking our bodies, and I made another mental note: Actors and musicians all did warm-up exercises. What was the equivalent for writers? My thought was interrupted when Bayes instructed us to laugh very hard. It had been a confusing week, a mix of macro tragedy and micro wins. I cracked up, and it felt like sobbing. The group entered a frenzied state. I acclimated to the cacophony of primal sounds. We sounded like the animals we tend to forget we are.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times. Photography & Talent Yulissa Mendoza Styling Erik Ziemba Art Direction Jessica de Jesus Hair & Makeup Jaime Diaz Production Alexis de la Rocha Photography assistant Lily Soleil Lewites Styling assistant Nathan Alford Content assistant Perry Picasshoe Special thanks Ricardo Mendoza
Yulissa wears Rio shirt and vest, Elena Velez pants, Pskaufman… shoes.

Yulissa wears Rio shirt and vest, Elena Velez pants, Pskaufman… shoes.

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“Now cry!” Bayes shouted. I wailed and made my ugliest face. I was screaming so loud my voice cracked and I had to cough to clear it. I said, “Why, oh why?” I slapped my hands down on my quads. I headed toward the floor. I curled into a ball and cried with my face hovering an inch above the wooden floor. I heard a voice from above: “Don’t hide your sadness.” I stood up awkwardly having just been reprimanded for crying the polite way. I needed to cry the clown way, that is, take up space. I balled my hands into fists and stretched my arms out and up. I turned my face toward the ceiling and blamed it for all that was wrong with the world. Sobbing from the belly and feeling like some sort of tragic figure, I doubled over in laughter and now I couldn’t tell the difference between the two.

Afterward, we separated into groups of four. We were given 10 minutes to devise a song, along with a dance. My group chose the chorus “I love it.” We all had solos when we sang about something we genuinely loved. I sang about my apartment, how I loved it. I got the instructions mixed up and tried to rhyme but learned I wasn’t supposed to, so I sang, “Ohhhhhh, that’s easieeeeerrrr.” My solo came to a dark end: I loved my apartment, but I couldn’t afford it on my own, without roommates, and even if I could, it would be selfish to live there alone because of the city’s housing crisis. I sang about how the rental vacancy rate was 1.4% and that 5% was considered an emergency. There was nowhere else to go, so I sang to the audience to think about that. Some of the faces in the audience looked scared. My group sang, all together, “I love it, I love this love, I love love love love, yeah I like it!” We broke for lunch, and someone added me to the “Clown NYC” WhatsApp group. It has 712 members, and there are multiple threads, including “Shows & Mics,” “Meetup & Hangouts,” “Prop/Costume Exchange” — and “Housing.”

a red circle graphic with a cutout star in the center

When I saw my first clown show, Julia Masli’s “Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha,” my first words might have been, “What the f—?” Masli emerged on a blueish dark stage amid the haze of fog. I recall a Medusa-like nest of wires around her head with a light illuminating her face. A gold mannequin’s leg with an attached microphone substituted as Masli’s left arm. She was bundled in a witchy outfit resembling a duvet cover. Masli looked extraterrestrial, complete with the wide, innocent stare of a being looking upon our society and its problems from a fresh perspective.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

As a clown, it’s ideal if you wear something so stupid, people laugh just glancing at you. A performer’s costume signals to the audience that they’re in a space operating outside of societal norms, a place of amplification. While a clown’s “look” can be idiosyncratic and interesting, what starts off as funny and absurd gives way to the profound. In this way, clowning appears light and gets deep. With the support of aesthetics, a clown communicates, “Isn’t being human with all of its striving for status and repression in order to fit in kind of ridiculous?”

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In “Nothing Doing,” a work-in-progress, clown Alex Tatarsky announced at the top that they didn’t believe in work or progress. They entered the stage in a top hat, white sequined leotard, rhinestone heels, sporting a long, thick braid attached to their hair. When they turned around for the first time, I was treated to a grotesque mask at the back of Tatarsky’s head and prosthetic cleavage that might have also been the plastic molding of butt cheeks. By the close of their show, after having mimed chasing after the performance’s nonexistent plot, Tatarsky sat at the head of a table, facing the audience, eating Life cereal with milk, with their hands, out of an empty skull, and at one point chewed and swallowed a cigarette. They said something like, “Darling, I just want you to love me, but it’s repulsive when I’m this desperate.” This desperation, rather than repelling me, became a source of connection. I found myself falling in love with this clown and, in turn, with the parts of myself I tend to reject.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

Yulissa wears Willy Chavarria shirt, Rio skirt, Pskaufman… shoes.

In the environment of a clown workshop, practicing loss of control (a clown can’t plan for an audience’s response) and being present with what is (a clown works with whatever they’ve got) can feel good. One eases off expecting specific results and being disappointed when things don’t turn out according to a rigid vision of success and delights in surprises no one could have imagined. If clowning is on the rise, and it certainly feels that way, it might be because it provides relief from having to keep it together.

a red circle graphic with a cutout star in the center

On the second day of the workshop, we tried a different exercise. Two conventionally attractive men were onstage, and I was prepared to hate them both. Why? Because conventionally attractive men send me hurtling back in time to when I was an awkward preteen, and I’ve since developed an aversion. Bayes instructed them to get to know each other. They looked uncomfortable. One extended a handshake to the other. The crowd booed at the predictably masculine, business-like gesture. Then, Bayes told them to turn away from each other and walk to opposite ends of the room. One faced stage left, the other stage right.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

They had to jump around to face each other and land at the exact same time. They kept failing. “Oh, come on,” I jeered. Ten minutes passed. The audience was exasperated. An eternity passed. One would turn around while the other didn’t move. Was I cursing them somehow? One wore a crisp white T-shirt that looked expensive with black wide-leg trousers. He had shoulder-length hair parted down the middle, like a model. The other, a white T-shirt that looked worn-in, black joggers and a delicate hoop earring. Both were barefoot. They kept missing even though they could technically cheat and set a pattern for the other to follow. It was agony. Bayes, who was sitting next to me, drew my attention to the man on the right. He was twitching. His eyebrows, his legs. The impulses were all confused. I laughed. I thanked the heavens that my performance of the same exercise didn’t go this badly.

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Bayes told them, “You’re not getting it because you haven’t tucked in your shirts and raised your pants all the way up.” The two clowns followed the instructions. Now, they looked more ridiculous and endearing. We waited. We breathed. Finally. They jumped. They landed at the exact same time. People erupted in applause. A great tension was released. I rose from my seat along with others for a standing ovation. No matter how hopeless it seems, a clown can always win back the audience.

Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

Yulissa wears Elena Velez shirt, pants, and hat, Pskaufman… shoes.

Now, the two men were facing each other. There were more boos. They lost us because they were “trying” again. I joined in, feeling like I was at a wrestling match where I wanted neither party to win. Now they were holding hands and squatting up and down vigorously. “Say, ‘Oh, yeah,’ ” shouted Bayes. They complied in unison. “Now say, ‘Oh, daddy,’ ” Bayes shouted. Again, the two complied, but they missed a beat and now they were saying “Daddy, O” in a guttural way as they continued holding hands and squatting up and down. I was laughing hard and clapping my hands. I was full of glee. In less than 30 minutes, I’d seen myself mirrored and altered. I could be someone who was afraid of being in front of others. Cocooned in the safety of a crowd, I could be cruel. I could be extravagantly generous. The clown wanted my love regardless. The clown was there to hold it all. I learned things that words fail to capture.

a red circle graphic with a cutout star in the center

You had to be there. And that’s what I love most about clowning — it brings you into the now. Everything else fades away. It’s no longer about the shape something takes but about the attempt. No one is ever done as a clown.

Later that week, I found myself singing a stupid-sweet song from the workshop called “Open Like a Little Flower.” The next line was “Open like a different type of flower.” I remembered Bayes saying that when you go looking for beauty, you find it. I remembered too my pounding heart. Breathing hard from physical exertion. Buzzing with the high of a collective response, with the feeling of wholeness.

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Image March 2025 on clowning. Photography by Yulissa Mendoza For The Times.

Priscilla Posada is a writer living in New York City. Her work can be found in the Los Angeles Review of Books, BOMB and the Brooklyn Rail, among other places.

Photography & Talent Yulissa Mendoza
Styling Erik Ziemba
Hair & Makeup Jaime Diaz
Art Direction Jessica de Jesus
Production Alexis de la Rocha
Photography assistant Lily Soleil Lewites
Styling assistant Nathan Alford
Content assistant Perry Picasshoe
Special thanks Ricardo Mendoza

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Movie Reviews

Movie Review: ‘Goat’ – Catholic Review

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Movie Review: ‘Goat’ – Catholic Review

NEW YORK (OSV News) – “Goat” (Sony) is an animated underdog sports comedy populated by anthropomorphized animals. While mostly inoffensive, and thus suitable for a wide audience — including teens and older kids — the film is also easily forgotten.

The amiable proceedings center on teen goat Will Harris (voice of Caleb McLaughlin). As opening scenes show, it has been Will’s dream since childhood to play for his hometown team, the Vineland Thorns.

The inhabitants of Vineland and the other areas of the movie’s world, however, are divided into so-called bigs and smalls, with professional competition dominated, unsurprisingly, by the former. Though Will stoutly maintains that he’s a medium, those around him regard him as too slight and diminutive to go up against the towering bigs.

Despite this prejudice, a video showing Will more or less holding his own against a famous and arrogant big, Andalusian horse Mane Attraction (voice of Aaron Pierre), goes viral and inspires the Thorns’ devious owner, warthog Flo Everson (voiced by Jenifer Lewis), to give the lad a shot. Though Will is understandably thrilled, his path forward proves challenging.

Will has idolized the Thorns’ sole outstanding player, black panther Jett Fillmore (voice of Gabrielle Union), since he was a youngster. But Jett, it turns out, is not only frustrated by her situation as a star among misfits but scornful of Will’s ambitions and resolute in helping to deprive her new teammate of playing time.

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Given such divisions, the Thorns’ fortunes seem destined to continue their long decline.

“Roarball,” the invented game featured in director Tyree Dillihay’s film, is essentially co-ed basketball by another name. As produced by, among others, NBA champion Stephen Curry, the movie — adapted from an idea in Chris Tougas’ book “Funky Dunks” — is an unabashed celebration of hoop culture both on and off the court.

Viewers’ enthusiasm may vary, accordingly, depending on the degree to which they’re invested in the real-life sport.

Moviegoers of every stripe will appreciate the fact that the script, penned by Aaron Buchsbaum and Teddy Riley, shows the negative effects of self-centeredness as well as the value of teamwork and fan support. Plot developments also showcase forgiveness and reconciliation.

Will’s story is, nonetheless, thoroughly formulaic and most of the screenplay’s jokes feel strained and laborious. Still, while hardly qualifying as the Greatest of All Time, “Goat” does provide passable entertainment with little besides a few potty gags to concern parents.

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The film contains brief scatological humor and at least one vaguely crass term. The OSV News classification is A-II — adults and adolescents. The Motion Picture Association rating is PG — parental guidance suggested. Some material may not be suitable for children.

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Copyright © 2026 OSV News

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Philip Glass canceled a Kennedy Center show, but this conductor brings his work center stage at L.A. Opera

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Philip Glass canceled a Kennedy Center show, but this conductor brings his work center stage at L.A. Opera

When Dalia Stasevska heard opera music for the first time, it was a moment of profound self-revelation. She was 13, growing up in the factory town of Tampere in the south of Finland, and her school librarian gave her a CD of Puccini’s “Madama Butterfly” along with a translation of its Italian libretto.

“As a teenage girl, this dramatic story touched my soul,” Stasevska says, adding that she still remembers the experience and thinking, “ ‘This music understands me, this is exactly how I feel.’ And that was…when I knew that I wanted to become a musician.”

Stasevska is now chief conductor of Finland’s Lahti Symphony Orchestra and a prodigious conductor of orchestral music in all forms. A busy guest baton with companies around the globe, she will make her L.A. Opera debut this Saturday with a production of “Akhnaten” by Philip Glass, running through late March.

John Holiday in the title role of L.A. Opera’s 2026 production of “Akhnaten.”

(Cory Weaver)

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The seminal work by Glass lands at L.A. Opera just a month after the world-famous composer abruptly canceled June’s world premiere of Symphony No. 15 “Lincoln” at the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. “While Philip Glass has pulled out of Kennedy Center, his music will be front and center at our production,” a rep for L.A. Opera wrote in an email.

Stasevska, with her razor-sharp appreciation of the power of Glass’ work, is the ideal conductor to bring it there.

Stasevska, 41, walks from the ornate foyer of the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, with its emerald green carpets and gleaming chandeliers, to the more ordinary hallways and cubicles of L.A. Opera’s offices. She’s been in town rehearsing for a few weeks and jokes with some of the show’s jugglers in a kitchenette, where she makes herself a machine pod coffee.

The conductor is petite with large, expressive eyes and a Cheshire cat’s smile. Her mouth often pulls to the right when she speaks, her admirable non-native English tugged easterly in a Finnish accent.

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Opera remains her great love, and it seems a perfect twist of fate that Stasevska was tapped to conduct “Akhnaten.” She saw it for the first time in 2019 at a Helsinki cinema, in a global broadcast of a production by the Met. She couldn’t believe her friend dozed off.

“I was like, ‘How could you fall asleep? This was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I would do anything to conduct this opera,’ ” she recalls saying.

Stasevska was born in 1984, the same year that Glass’ hypnotic, ritualistic opera, about an Egyptian pharaoh who dared to push monotheism onto his polytheistic culture, debuted in Stuttgart, Germany. Eight months later, Stasevska entered the world in the Soviet-controlled city of Kyiv, the child of a Ukrainian father and Finnish mother.

A woman leans against a wall.

Conductor Dalia Stasevska, who is making her L.A. Opera debut with Philip Glass’ “Akhnaten,” says that opera is her first great love.

(David Butow / For the Times)

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It was a fluke that she was born in Ukraine. Her parents, both painters, were living in the Estonian capital of Tallinn, also under Soviet rule, but found themselves in a Kyiv hospital close to family when Stasevska arrived. She’s never lived in Ukraine — she spent her first few years in Tallinn before moving to Finland at age 5— but her life has been infused with its heritage.

Her father, who as a teenager in Tallinn began to rebel against Sovietization, insisted on teaching Stasevska and her two younger brothers to speak Ukrainian at home. Her grandmother, Iryna, lived with the family and was an important caretaker for much of her childhood. Stasevska grew up hearing fantastic stories filled with dreamlike imagery of the homeland.

“She was such a civilized, cultural person,” Stasevska says of her grandmother, adding that she taught her grandkids everything she knew about her home country. That’s why, even though Stasevska was raised in Finland, she grew up eating Ukrainian food and hearing Ukrainian folk tunes. “I know the language and understand the culture,” she says.

Stasevska grew up poor, but music education was mandatory for her and her brothers: “My father said, ‘This is going to be your profession.’ It was no question that this is not a hobby. So we started practicing immediately, very determined. There was maybe some forcing involved,” she says, laughing.

She played the violin from age 8, but it was only after she heard Puccini at 13 that she fell in love with classical music. She became obsessed with the opera and orchestral repertoires and was immediately determined to play in an orchestra. She approached the headmaster at her conservatory who placed her in a string ensemble before advancing her to the symphony orchestra as a violinist.

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At 18, Stasevska entered the Sibelius Academy in Helsinki, which is named after Finland’s most famous composer, Jean Sibelius. She couldn’t stop herself from stealing a peek at the school conductor’s score, copying bowings and poring over the details, but she didn’t indulge any dreams of taking the podium herself. “I was going every week to the concerts,” she says, “but it took me so long to see somebody that looked like me.”

She was 20 when she saw a female conductor for the first time, calling it “the second big moment in my life.” When Stasevska expressed interest in trying it herself, she was referred to Jorma Panula, a legendary conductor and teacher in Finland. Panula invited her to attend one of his masterclasses, and on the first downbeat of her first experience conducting, “I knew immediately that this was beyond anything I’ve experienced in my life,” she says. “It became this kind of madness moment.”

She loved the sheer physicality of it, she says, but also “that I can affect the music, and that I can affect the interpretation, because I had so much in my heart that I felt about the music.”

After completing her conducting studies in 2012, Stasevska assisted Panula — who emphasized discovering unique “gestures in such a way that the orchestral musicians know what you mean,” she says. She also worked with her fellow Finn, Esa-Pekka Salonen. Stasevska became principal guest conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 2019 and chief of the Lahti Symphony in 2020.

When she’s not globetrotting, Stasevska lives in Helsinki with her young daughter and her husband, Lauri Porra — a heavy metal bassist who is also the great-grandson of Sibelius.

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She likes to champion new music — her 2024 album, “Dalia’s Mixtape,” featured works by Anna Meredith, Caroline Shaw and other contemporary composers. She is also a vocal supporter of the land where she was born and has spoken out against Russia’s war in Ukraine.

Actors onstage in an opera.

John Holiday as Akhnaten, with So Young Park, at right, as Queen Tye, in L.A. Opera’s 2026 production of “Akhnaten.”

(Cory Weaver)

Stasevska’s L.A. Opera debut arrives on the same week as the fourth anniversary of Russia’s invasion. Both of her brothers — one a film director, the other a journalist — moved to Ukraine and have borne witness to the war, which has given her “another level of experiencing this horror,” she says.

Stasevska has made it her mission to raise funds — more than 250,000 euros to date — to provide basic supplies particularly for children and elders who are without power and huddling in freezing cold homes. She has even driven in supplies herself by truck.

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She has also conducted concerts there — and her next album will celebrate the country’s composers in a meaningful way. “Ukrainian Mixtape,” which she recorded with the BBC Symphony Orchestra in London, features works by five composers who range from the 19th century to the 1960s. Three are premiere recordings of artists who have been completely forgotten, which required a year of searching for materials.

“I think that it will not leave anybody cold,” Staveska says, “and I hope that it will inspire everybody to discover Ukrainian music more, and that we will hear it more on main stages of the world — where it deserves to be.”

For now, though, her focus is on ancient Egypt and Philip Glass — and opera. She says her goal, in every concert, is to give audiences the same experience she had when she was 13, that remarkable feeling that the music uniquely understands them.

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Movie Reviews

Vishnu Vinyasam Movie Review – Gulte

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Vishnu Vinyasam Movie Review – Gulte

2.5/5


01 Hrs 59 Mins   |   Romantic Comedy   |   27-02-2026


Cast – Sree Vishnu, Nayana Sarika, Satya, Brahmaji, Praveen, Murali Sharma, Srikanth Iyyengar, Satyam Rajesh, Srinivasa Reddy, Goparaju Ramana and others

Director – Yadunaath Maruthi Rao

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Producer – Sumanth Naidu G

Banner – Sree Subrahmanyeshwara Cinemas

Music – Radhan

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Since 2023, with three commercial hits and one critically acclaimed film, Sree Vishnu has established himself as a minimum guarantee hero and built a loyal audience. To continue the success streak, he chose yet another romantic comedy film, directed by debutant Yadunaath Maruthi Rao. ‘Aay’ fame, Nayana Sarika, played the female lead role and Radhan, scored the music for the film. After creating enough curiosity among the audience with the teaser and trailer, the film was finally released in theatres today. Did Sree Vishnu, deliver yet another hit with a romantic comedy film? Did Nayan Sarika, score a hit in Telugu, after AAY & KA? How does the debutant director, Yadunaath Maruthi Rao, do? Did the music director, Radhan, come up with memorable songs and score? Let’s figure it out with a detailed analysis.

What is it about?

Vishnu(Sree Vishnu), works as a junior lecturer at a college, where Manisha(Nayan Sarika), works as the head of the department(HOD/faculty). Manisha, with her eccentric characteristics, intrigues Vishnu and both of them eventually fall in love with each other. When everything is going well for the couple to get married, Manisha informs Vishnu about a flaw in her Jathakam. What was the Dosham(flaw) in Manisha’s jathakam? How did it impact her prospects of getting married before meeting, Vishnu? Why did Vishnu initially get reluctant to marry Manisha, after hearing about her Jathaka Dosham? Will the couple sort out all the issues and get married eventually? Forms the rest of the story.

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Performances:

Sree Vishnu, with his comedy timing generated a few fun moments that worked in favour of the film. However, in an attempt to appear effortless, he went overboard at times and appeared monotonous at a few places. Nayana Sarika got a good role and she delivered a good performance. She looked good throughout the film and appeared confident.

Satya, got a full-length role and he was able to generate a few laughs here and there with his comedy timing. Srikanth Iyyengar’s performance looked over the top and his portions looked rushed and very artificial. Srinivasa Reddy played a role similar to Mallikarjuna Rao’s role in Raviteja’s movie, Venky. He did an ok job but it seemed like he did dub for his role in the film? The film had Brahmaji, Praveen, Murali Sharma, Satyam Rajesh, Goparaju Ramana and a few others, in character roles. All of them made their presence felt but none of their roles gave the desired impact and extra mileage.

Technicalities:

Cinematography by Sai Sriram, is a major plus to the film. The visuals looked colourful, vibrant and gave a pleasant look to the film throughout. Radhan’s music should have been better. The songs scored by him were below par and the background score was pretty standard. Editing by Karthikeyan Rohini, was alright. He tried to cut the film with a very crisp runtime of around two hours and yet, ended up having a few repetitive sequences. Production values by, Sree Subrahmanyeshwara Cinemas, were decent and were within the limitations of a midrange romantic comedy film. Let’s discuss the work of the writer and the director, Yadunaath Maruthi Rao, in detail in the analysis section.

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Positives:

1.⁠ ⁠First Half
2.⁠ ⁠Comedy Portions
3.⁠ ⁠Sree Vishnu & Satya’s Timing
4.⁠ ⁠Cinematography

Negatives:

1.⁠ ⁠Second Half
2.⁠ ⁠Lack of Strong Emotions
3.⁠ ⁠Music

Analysis:

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The debutant writer and the director, Yadunaath Maruthi Rao, wrote a so-called peculiar characterisation of the female lead in the film and tried to generate enough fun moments using the comedy timing of his lead actor, Sree Vishnu and the lead comedian, Satya. Right from the word go, the writer intended only to make the audience laugh at any cost, and in doing so, he succeeded in parts but would have done a better job in other parts, especially the latter part of the second half. The film had at least five to six notable actors but for some reason, the director only concentrated on generating fun by using his lead actor.

The entire first half of the film unfolded without any major complaints. There were enough comedy sequences in the first half that engaged the audience in a fairly decent manner and the revelation of the conflict point during intermission, worked as well. However, after the initial few minutes of the second half, the film got into repetitive mode and the drama during the last thirty minutes was the film was written and executed in a very unexciting manner without any proper emotional depth. The twist during the climax was very predictable and it was narrated in a bland and rushed manner. Better care in writing and execution during the second half would have elevated the film’s overall graph.

The bare minimum that the audience expects from debutant writers and directors is original characters and characterisations, isn’t it? In Vishnu Vinyasam, to a crucial character, it was surprising to see a debutant director use the characterisation of ‘Jagadamba Chowdary’, a character from Ravi Teja’s movie Venky. Also, at just around two hours of runtime, the film makes the audience feel monotonous with a few repetitive sequences. One of the major negative points of the film is the songs. For a romantic comedy film to work, it is necessary to have at least one or two chartbuster songs. Unfortunately, none of the songs composed by, Radhan, helped the film in any way.

Overall, the core point of, Vishnu Vinyasam, has enough potential to become a very engaging romantic drama film. But, the half-hearted effort from the writer, director and the music director, ended up making it a decent watch. You may give it a try watching for a few well-executed comedy portions, Sree Vishnu and Satya’s timing.

Final Verdict – Partly Entertaining

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Rating – 2.5/5

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