Telugu film ‘Veeranjaneyulu Viharayatra’ streams on ETV Win
| Photo Credit: Special Arrangement

In a scene in Veeranjaneyulu Viharayatra, the Telugu film written and directed by Anurag Palutla, siblings smile and stop squabbling, at least briefly, over mango-flavoured ice golas. Anurag peppers the film with such small moments that prevent the narrative from becoming an utter slog. He presents a bitter-sweet portrait of family, to show how people can bond together despite misgivings. After all, family ties are rarely saccharine-sweet in reality. The film streaming on ETV Win may be far from wholesome in making us root for its characters, but it has its moments. The dysfunctional family comes alive with performances by Naresh, Sri Lakshmi, Rag Mayur and Priya Vadlamani. There is also the endearing presence of Brahmanandam, in spirit, who tries to make up for the shortcomings in writing.

Veeranjaneyulu (Brahmanandam) has been gone for nearly a year and his family is yet to immerse his ashes. Through Brahmanandam’s voiceover, we learn how he worked all his life for the betterment of his family and has left behind a residence, Happy Home, in his favourite destination — Goa. Each surviving member of his family has a story replete with challenges. The first half hour or so is spent establishing these characters. 

The father (Naresh), a school teacher, is unceremoniously dismissed from service citing his inadequacy in English. The mother (Priyadarshini) is portrayed as a tireless nurturer, enduring day-to-day taunts from her mother-in-law (Sri Lakshmi). The daughter, Sarayu (Priya Vadlamani), is nearly engaged to the love of her life (Ravi Teja Mahadasyam) but feels stifled by the patriarchal gaze of her future mother-in-law. The son, Veeru (Rag Mayur), taking on his grandfather’s name, has a business setback to deal with. He is also in a loveless relationship from which he hesitates to break free.

The family embarks on a road trip and it turns out to be more than a slice-of-life story. The film rides on a slender plot and the drama is largely driven by these characters. As a 1980s van huff and puffs its way through Andhra Pradesh towards Goa, music composer R H Vikram’s score pervades through the pregnant pauses and tense moments without overtly seeking attention. Cinematographer C Ankur alternates between close shots inside the van and the wide views of the landscape that the vehicle passes through, to frame the tensions within the family and how they have to stick together since there is no one else they can turn to for help.

When the first big tussle happens and the hidden secrets of each family member tumble out, the narrative builds a palpable tension and makes us wonder what the characters would do next. But when this narrative tool of using high drama to spill secrets is used again in later portions, it does not have the desired effect.

The narrative devotes ample time to each character, giving them room to introspect and get closure to their issues. However, in doing so, the film feels overdrawn. The forced humour through a hospital sequence is mostly grating rather than providing comic relief amid heavy drama. In these portions, the performances shoulder the proceedings.

Naresh leads from the front, evoking empathy for his plight as the father who has quietly borne the brunt over decades. Veteran Sri Lakshmi as the grandmother is a delight to watch and gets a couple of ‘massy’ moments. Rag Mayur’s is a worthwhile performance as the brooding, short- tempered son. His bickering with his on-screen sibling, Priya Vadlamani, is on the mark. Priya fits the bill as a woman who is anxious not to follow the subservient example of her mother and wants her own identity.

As conversations often become arguments, a question that pops up is why this family could not have solved things by sitting across a table and talking it out. If only it were that simple. Anurag wants his viewers to understand that conversations are not easy in some families and hence, a road trip serves to vent bottled-up emotions.

Veeranjaneyulu Viharayatra tries to be more than a simple family drama, akin to Kapoor and Sons, but misses that mark by a mile. It is still watchable and has endearing moments.

After a triumphant splash in Juno, lovely, appealing Elliot Page got Oscar nominated, was on his way to a promising career as an important film star with range and talent, and then suddenly disappeared for 17 years. What happened? Where did he go? Now we know. 

Close to You is my first exposure to Page since his emergence as a wistful, sensitive and dedicated man named Elliot. His absence from the screen is entirely understandable for a variety of obvious reasons, and Elliot has expressed a serious need to reach out to the vast number of friends, fans and prospective employers who wondered about his transition. To make sure you get the point, he has found a perfect vehicle in Close to You, emerging from bed in the opening scene naked, with a place for every feature, every feature in its place—flat-chested, no Adam’s apple, a clean-shaved chin with evidence of a five o’clock shadow, and a muscular torso that has been to the gym (but still a mystery about what goes where below the waist). I guess you could call it a brave, bold performance, but when you think about it you realize Page has no other choice if he wants to be both honest and a working artist with a viable future. He also wrote the screenplay with director Dominic Savage, so I think it’s safe to say the film includes excerpts from his personal experience.

 In Close to You, he plays Sam, a man living in Toronto, adjusting to his transition with a new job and a new life. Sam hasn’t seen his family for four years, but now he bites the bullet and takes a long-dreaded trip back home for his father’s birthday. On the train, he runs into Katherine, an old high school friend, and feelings from their unresolved past refresh old memories of deeply troubled times when they experienced a lesbian relationship that traumatized them both. Katherine is married with children, but still drawn to Sam. In the weekend that follows, there are more chance encounters, and the superficial circumstances that bring them together force them to interact in intensely personal ways that open old wounds and open new doors. Part of the problem with Close to You is Hillary Baack, who plays Katherine. Miscast and inexperienced, she is not up to Page’s standards and mumbles so incoherently that whole scenes clumsily pass by without clarity.

At home, Sam is impacted even more. Every concern about how his parents and his siblings will react—plus the unsolicited comments and questions he receives about his transition—mirrors the ignorance, discomfort and terror in the eyes of the people who say they love him best but understand him least. The film is an emotionally observant drama about coming home as yourself, only for everyone to treat you like a stranger. “I’m happy,” Sam explains, “I’m living my life; I just need space. You weren’t worrying about me when I was not OK.” But as the domestic anxieties and challenges build, Sam must face the painful knowledge that coping is not his responsibility, and things have never really changed in a toxic environment that never felt fully welcoming in the first place. 

Things build to a violent explosion, Sam leaves with high expectations reduced to unresolved despair, and nothing ends the way you think it will, with everyone making nice and saying, “I forgive you.” But in a weak, vacillating postscript, raw honesty wanes when Katherine arrives in Toronto, gives in to her true feelings, and ends up in bed with Sam before she exits forever, with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. Despite Page’s lack of uncertainty about how to play a tender scene with maximum feeling, I didn’t believe this soapy resolve, and I found their nude sex scene not only a confusing way to end Close to You, but also just a little bit creepy.

4/5 stars

Being dead isn’t easy. In Dead Talents Society, a new supernatural comedy from Taiwanese director John Hsu Han-chiang, the afterlife is every bit as competitive and unforgiving as the land of the living.

Spirits must prove themselves worthy of becoming ghosts through a rigorous selection process of auditions and contests, and avoid being condemned to eternal damnation.

For one newly deceased young woman, played by Gingle Wang and known only as The Rookie, this comes as quite a shock and is a far cry from the eternal rest she expected to find on the other side.

Hsu’s film is a supernatural screwball comedy about making a life for yourself in the Great Hereafter. After dying under uncertain circumstances, our heroine finds herself wandering listlessly through the Underworld with her best friend (Bai Bai) when she learns that her place on the ethereal plain is far from secure.

All the other ghosts have worked hard to hone their craft as a spectral menace, developing a nuanced character and terrifying technique while cultivating a formidable urban legend for their manifestation in the land of the living.

Those who fail to establish themselves as a ghost of merit within 30 days are permanently disintegrated.

The Rookie finds herself flung into a punishing audition process, overseen by a formidably unforgiving jury, to secure herself a haunting licence. Laughed off stage, all seems lost, until she is taken in by a compassionate band of misfits who haunt a dilapidated, rarely frequented hotel.

While rarely conjuring any genuine scares, Dead Talents Society is a wildly imaginative, frequently hilarious and shamelessly feel-good tale of teamwork, friendship, self-belief and finding your true purpose, where death is not the be all and end all, but just the first step towards living your best life.