The modern Ramcharan Teja starrer in Telugu, Vinaya Vidheya Rama (VVR), which opened on Pongal all across Andhra Pradesh, is a deeply offensive movie on each feasible level. It insults the female intercourse by means of lewdly objectifying the heroine Kiara Advani.
It also insults the audiences’ simple Genius by way of taking the most outrageous liberties with time and space. To supply an early indication of the film’s topographical tyranny, in one sequence, the film’s super-duper-hero Rama crashes out of an airport?s check-in lounge, jumps on a rushing train-top from Gujarat which takes him to Bihar to keep his brother.
Don’t ask how Rama is able to time his livid tour diagram with the Bihar instruct timings. I think it was once Dharmendra who first balanced himself on a dashing educate roof to avenge the wrongs performed to his onscreen family in “Yaadon Ki Baaraat”. If he saw Ramcharan Teja’s loco-motivated homage to that historical spirit of dada-giri Dharam Paaji style, Dharmendra would possibly feel sorry about the day he agreed to tour ticketless.
There are many other truely unacceptable leaps of creativeness in VVR that boggle the idea and do a gorgeous disservice to progressive cinema all throughout India.
As a Bihari, my biggest grouse in opposition to “Vinaya Vidheya Rama” is in the way Bihar and Biharis are proven as scruffy, sleazy, murderous bandits and outlaws. For years, filmmakers and actors in the South have complained about the way Hindi cinema depicts South Indians in a stereotypical Lungi Dance? avatar. In truth in the NTR biopic that opened this week, NTR (Balakrishna) is seen haranguing Mrs Indira Gandhi for referring to South Indians as ‘Madrasis’.
I wonder what NTR would have to say about Ramcharan Teja’s licentious lies involving Bihar and Biharis. For one, the film’s important villain, Raja Bhai performed by way of Vivek Oberoi, is shown to be a Bihari jogging his very own army in “Bihar”?or what passes off as Bihar in this madly confounded movie which knows neither its history or geography nicely sufficient to make the narrative half-way coherent.
Raja Babu is shown to bully the Bihar Chief Minister, Mahesh Manjrekar, into perpetrating the worst havoc imaginable. The tyranny gets acutely unbearable when Raja Babu kidnaps the Election Commissioner and makes him dance in public sporting ghungroos (anklets) on his ft to humiliate him.
I truely didn’t get that one. Why would a dance in ghungroos be such an act of humiliation for a respectable man whose nose the villain desires to rub in the ground? There are so many renowned lots revered Kathak and Bharat Natyam dancers in India. Kamal Haasan and Birju Maharaja are names that come to mind.
This crass movie moves ahead on the energy of its personal perverse definition of machismo and virility. The hero is shown literally beating up an army of ‘Bihari’ goons (all armed with guns, machetes and different weapons) as the soundtrack emblasons his heroics with sounds that recommend a siren name for absolute anarchy.
My quibble with the film’s crass conflicts is with its ‘Bihar’ connections. The hinterland is replete with landscapes and horses and outlaws who seem like they are earning extra money by means of sneaking out of a Ram Gopal Verma motion film and is no phase of any Bihar that I know.
Why are Biharis viewed to be so thick-skinned as to silently receive being portrayed as the worst scum of the earth? Isn’t that the photo that chauvinistic political parties in Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh favour in order to put migrants from UP and Bihar in place, particularly back to their home states? And now, depicting Biharis as lumpen elements are taken to the subsequent level. The hero have to travel to Bihar(from Gujarat, on a dashing educate upon which he jumps on from above) to rescue his Telugu family from North Indian pseudo-Maoists. two