At one point I considered going to see RRR during its’ theatrical run. The Indian mega-blockbuster that has been receiving a lot of attention lately in the online film world was playing for a short window at a cinema about an hours’ drive from me. Ultimately, I had stuff going on and didn’t want to make the effort, and now having seen it, I regret that choice. Not just because this is a movie that demands the big screen experience or that theatrically it’s presented in its’ original Telugu (the Netflix version is dubbed in Hindi), but because I would likely have been seeing it with a crowd full of Indian-Canadians -and they have been going nuts for this thing!
There’s a reason RRR is already one of the highest-grossing films in India and has been gaining significant traction internationally off of the enthusiasm of the Indian diaspora. It pairs two of the biggest stars of the Telugu industry (colloquially referred to as ‘Tollywood’) for the first time in their careers with the biggest-name director in all of India. They are respectively N.T. Rama Rao Jr. and Ram Charan, and S.S. Rajamouli: RRR. The title has been given a number of meanings in different markets (“Rise, Roar, Revolt” in English), but it began from this place of just bringing these three superstars together.
The result of their collaboration is a manic, baffling epic telling a fictitious story about two of India’s most revered historical figures befriending each other and fighting colonialism together in the 1920s. Rama Rao plays Komaram Bheem, a leader and warrior of the Gond tribe who makes it his mission to rescue a girl captured by the British governor (Ray Stevenson). Charan plays Alluri Sitarama Raju, an elite officer in the colonial army, who had risen through the ranks initially as an agent of rebellion, but has seemingly given up that fight. He is tasked with personally catching Bheem. However the two wind up meeting independent of their goals and under assumed names become close friends, which threatens to upend their allegiances when the truth inevitably comes out.
Bheem and Raju never did meet in real life, but of course reality, never mind historical accuracy, is not anywhere on Rajamouli’s priority list. The film casts its’ two lead figures as superheroes (perhaps why it’s been doing so well with North American audiences): men of immense strength, stamina, and resourcefulness. Bheem is introduced in the jungle fighting off both a tiger and wolf simultaneously. When he and Raju come together, it’s in saving a child from a crashing train over the Yamuna River via extreme agility and rope swinging stunts amidst fire and debris. These are not ordinary people by any stretch, but like in modern superhero media their exploits are contrasted with relatable, down-to-earth characterizations. Bheem for instance has an awkward crush on the governor’s daughter Jenny (Olivia Morris), whom Raju assists him in getting closer to. Both are funny, and their friendship becomes exceptionally endearing. What makes RRR more astounding than a lot of its’ western counterparts though is just how much it commits in heightened ways to either end of this spectrum, whilst still pulling off some manner of earnestness.
The movie is incredibly over-the-top and stylized, with bonkers sequence after utterly bonkers sequence. Rajamouli incorporates heavy doses of hyper-fluid bullet time and sped-up movement VFX in the action scenes, his CGI components (animals, weapons, natural elements) imbued with a particular artistry in their non-permeance. Nothing is real but the illusion itself is striking. These are action scenes (as has been cited) in the vein of John Woo, only amped up to an absurd degree; and it’s the forms of creativity more than the way the action is executed that makes it exciting. How Bheem for instance kicks a motorcycle into his arms to use as a bludgeon or throws a tiger at a British soldier. It’s an insane, glorious thing to behold, driven by sheer character and raving fury towards British rule. These villains are such caricatures (Alison Doody’s governess has a lust for sadism) so that there can be more intense catharsis felt when they are violently taken down. And this might sound tedious or narratively lazy, but such is the films’ commitment that one scene sees a character singing a revolutionary song as he’s being whipped with a ridiculously hardcore lash and it is genuinely inspirational. The hyperbole is a feature not a bug.
But for as much as these big action or violent drama beats are drenched in hyper-emotionality and special effects cheese, the more electrifying stuff in the film is where it unashamedly gives way to its’ unhinged yet charming silliness. The bromance between Bheem and Raju is so engrossing, both actors highly committed to this deep brotherly love that springs up between the two men and is effectively accelerated through one of the greatest montage sequences of the last few years. When that friendship is thrown through the ringer, the stakes are so high, and when they come together again it is the most satisfying thing. And the biggest highlight of the whole production, the wildest expression of their powerful comradery and bond is not when they are taking on their enemies together in battle, but when they team-up to win a dance-off early in act two. “Naatu Naatu” is the most ‘Bollywood’ the movie ever gets, in terms of the narrative suddenly breaking into a big elaborate musical number in the middle of a fancy party, and yet it’s got virtually none of the Bollywood clichés. It’s just a great big joyful, prideful remonstrance to British racism anchored by a pair of eclectic dancers giving Fred Astaire a run for his money. The choreography is fast, thrilling, and incredible, the editing sharp, the harmony of Rama Rao and Charan stellar, and the music itself buoyant and surprisingly catching. Same goes for the final number that plays over the end credits, a callback of sorts that features Rajamouli himself.
Of course there is an argument to be made that RRR is truckloads of style with little substance. That does track -beyond its’ flourishes, I wouldn’t say its’ terribly compelling. Or that the ways in which it rewrites history, casting real people as mythic figures (one of whom is at one point literally equated with a Hindu deity) is problematic or worse, propagandic. And while I don’t think anyone would confuse RRR for authentic historical translation (Rajamouli has cited Inglorious Basterds as an influence, and RRR is similarly self-aware), there is a streak of Indian political nationalism to the methods of its’ exaggerations. Bheem and Raju literally save a child with the old Indian flag. I’m not versed in the complex politics of India, but it’s not hard to see how this movie functions as a political tool, how it has a particular agenda in its’ approach to history and culture that is worth being sceptical about -especially for international audiences whom it could more easily manipulate.
It’s a prompt to better inform oneself though about this densely populated, highly influential part of the world -to see more of its’ movies perhaps. Even my own experience with Indian cinema remains firmly in the realm of Satyajit Ray -meaning I could count on both hands the number of Indian films I’ve seen not directed by Ray. RRR is not representative of what modern Indian cinema is (it’s such a vast hodge-podge of extremely diverse industries), but it does embody what a blockbuster is and can be in other parts of the world. Though RRR is certainly A LOT by every conceivable metric, it might be nice if a few films over here took some of its’ inspiration and spontaneity to heart. Because nothing in the American market is doing what this movie is, and it’s the poorer for it.
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