Ustaad Movie Review: Motorcycle Diaries

More often than not, when we stumble across objects, be it toys or books or any miscellaneous relics from our childhood, we experience a benign, but also sharp twang of pain. Yes, things were simpler and better back then but also, why did we ever grow up? How did we have the heart to abandon these objects and move on? As much as they are objects, they have meant as much, and probably even more, than people at one point. “People may cheat you, machines will never cheat you. Treat them well and they will teach you a lot,” says a character from Ustaad, and that is a good starting point for us to understand this film at large.  

We are quickly introduced to two very different parts of our protagonist Surya (Sri Simha)’s life. In one, he is a child, throwing up after going up on a ferris wheel ride. In another, he is a pilot, ready to fly for the first time. The contrasts stretch a little more when we learn that Surya will be flying for the first time with Captain Joseph D’Souza (Gautham Vasudev Menon), who is flying for the last time, just before his retirement. Surya, scared of this senior who keeps referring to him with an unprintable B-word, thinks of telling his life story to distract this somewhat unlikeable man. 

Cast – Sri Simha, Kavya Kalyanram, Ravinder Vijay, Anu Hassan, Gautham Vasudev Menon 

Director – Phanideep

The nostalgia around objects also extends to an unspecified period in the 2000s it is set in, which makes the film populate its story with dabba phones, PCO booths and a domestic airport (Hyderabad got its international airport in 2008). The 2000s setting also reflects in Joseph calling a female cabin crew member sweetheart and love, something downright offensive (for all good reasons) in today’s time and age. We are also introduced to Meghana (Kavya Kalyanram), who loves writing and receiving handwritten letters. Ustaad itself doubles up as a tiny love letter towards Surya s/o Krishnan/ Vaaranam Aayiram, what with Gautham Menon’s casting and the names of his leads. But one of my favourite parts has to be the majority of the film being set in a town close to Hyderabad. There is no mention of the area’s name, but we do see some affecting and poignant B-roll of trains and this giant, beautiful rock with foliage all over. It is a small detail, which goes a long way in making the story more authentic and heartfelt. The rocks later play a major role in Surya discovering his passion, not to mention the highway stretches, where the protagonist rides his bike named Ustaad. 

If the MacGuffin device of storytelling, popularly seen in Citizen Kane, and closer home in Mahanati and Sita Ramam, revolves around a set of characters in pursuit of an object, Ustaad pulls a reverse MacGuffin with an object leading a character to, first his overall transition from boyhood to manhood, followed by journeys, quite literally, to his passion and lady love. While I was already inclined to believe that this is a very real and believable story, the director credits/thanks his old bike in the end credits, which makes this film all the more beautiful. 

While Surya’s love for Ustaad is easily persuasive, it is his story with Meghana that I particularly enjoyed. It is not only believable, but you also keep rooting for them throughout the film. Phanideep has taken particular efforts in ensuring that the depiction of their relationship rises above cliches. Kavya plays a role quite similar to the ones she has earlier played in Masooda and Balagam, but here she gets a meatier role. She displays reluctance, anger and confusion at different points in the film, all of which come from a place of assured maturity. The role of Surya’s mother, played by Anu Haasan, is another interestingly written character, throwing refreshing surprises uncharacteristic of a Tollywood mother. 

As much as there is a lot to love about Ustaad, including some decent shot composition (ably assisted by cinematographer Pavan Kumar Puppala) — Ustaad the film, much like Ustaad the bike stops along at some places when it should have raced on. The film tries to interlink memory and experience at different places, but the montages don’t match up to the level of sentiment. A lot of the film remains on paper, in theory, and the reason it did not translate into emotion has to do with the performances of the film, which are amateurish at best and ineffectual at worst. And the way the film closes. Ah, well. Lets just say the director pulled a Ye Maaya Chesave ending, when a Vinnaithandi Varuvaaya ending would have arguably been better. It still feels good, but should it, though? Loss is about as inevitable as joy, in the many journeys we take in life.