Balakrishna in ‘Daaku Maharaaj’
| Photo Credit: Special Arrangement

Balakrishna’s resurgence in recent films such as Akhanda and Bhagawant Kesari can be attributed to filmmakers Boyapati Sreenu and Anil Ravipudi making the star more relatable to the masses beyond his larger-than-life quirks. While the ethos of a typical Balakrishna film has not changed drastically, the fresh narrative styles have breathed a new lease of life into time-tested templates.

In Daaku Maharaaj, it is evident that director Bobby Kolli was keen on a new visual aesthetic to a star-led vehicle. The action is stylised and slick; there is a genuine effort at charismatic world-building and the ‘punch lines’ are minimal (going by the standards of popular Telugu masala potboilers). Hero worship is woven into the narrative rather than appearing forced.

Despite these merits the film falls short, owing to its lack of conviction in the execution. It neither plays to the galleries nor embraces the new dictum wholeheartedly. A handful of sequences draw attention and can be termed paisa vasool, but the film on the whole is not satisfying.

Set in a hill station near Chittoor, Andhra Pradesh, the film takes its time to establish the context for the messiah’s arrival. A girl named Vaishnavi, the granddaughter of an influential man, is under threat from a local gangster duo. A convict on the run — ‘Daaku’ Maharaaj — assumes the identity of a driver, Nanaji, to guard the family. What connects Maharaaj’s violent past to the goons and the girl?

The film impressively does away with an ego-boosting intro song to announce the hero’s entry. S Thaman’s over-enthusiastic music score and the crisp dialogues between the action sequences do the job of offering a glimpse into the hero’s aura. Much like in Balakrishna’s earlier films (Jai Simha, Narasimha Naidu and Bhagawant Kesari), a young girl serves as the emotional link for the star to unleash his fury. 

When the proceedings get too heavy, there is silliness in the garb of humour for some comic relief (Satya is wasted) and romance, where Urvashi Rautela gets spanked by Balakrishna in a song named after his trademark phrase ‘Dabidi Dibidi.’ In between all the gore and insipid lighter moments, the child’s character brings some innocence (though caricaturish at times) to the mix.

However, the masala-laden proceedings soon become superficial. There are too many inconsequential characters that do not threaten the protagonist; the villainy lacks meat and the narrative beats around the bush for too long. The restlessness partly subsides with the flashback episode, in which a government officer transforms into a dacoit. 

Some of the tropes are reminiscent of films of the 90s and 2000s. A lion-hearted hero stands up for people of an arid land insulated from development and builds dams for them; every second girl in the region calls him ‘maamayya’ or ‘annayya’. Within this predictable framework, the equation between Maharaaj and the collector, Nandini (Shraddha Srinath), is a silver lining. 

The entire subplot woven around water supply to a village and the link between marble quarries and a drug racket is rushed and devoid of authenticity. Once the film returns to the present-day timeline, the rest is pretty much a formality. Surprisingly, Balakrishna’s restraint holds the weaker stretches together, helped by the racy action choreography and the raw visuals.

Cinematographer Vijay Kartik Kannan’s penchant for visuals comes to the fore in the flashback segments set in Chambal, transporting viewers into an anarchic world devoid of hope. In particular, the imagery of a dacoit leader’s headless statue merging with Balakrishna’s face stays with you long after the film. The gore is never vulgar or indulgent and the technical finesse adds to the experience.

The film also has its share of references to animals in the jungle. Maharaaj’s towering presence is visually compared to an injured snow leopard in the interval episode. The dialogues add some vigour too — ‘When you shout, you bark… when I shout… (referring to roar)..,’ ‘I hold a masters in murders,’ ‘When a lion and a deer confront, it is not a fight… it is a hunt’.

There is a noticeable gap between what Daaku Maharaaj aims to be and its final result. The craftiness of the visuals and the myth-making are often overpowered by the director’s conventional choices. Beyond Balakrishna and Shraddha Srinath’s Nandini, other characters (including the antagonist — Balwant Singh Thakur played by Bobby Deol) do not make a strong impression. 

It is disappointing to see capable actors such as Ravi Kishan, Shine Tom Chacko, Rishi, Chandini Chowdary and Sachin Khedekar wasted in insignificant parts. Shraddha Srinath is elegant in her portrayal of a vulnerable government official while Bobby Deol is reduced to a typical Mumbai-import villain who gives bombastic warnings to the hero without doing much. Pragya Jaiswal and Urvashi Rautela lack agency in their roles and merely serve as glam dolls. Sandeep Raj’s role begins well but adds little value to the film.

Bobby Kolli’s attempt to dish out a ‘different-looking’ Balakrishna film is a mixed bag. Apart from Balakrishna and Shraddha Srinath’s performances, the action choreography, cinematography and the music salvages it to an extent.