Actors every once in a while grow
larger than their scripts and create for themselves a larger than life image.
Some actors even succeed in doing so. Look back at the Shammi Kapoor era and
you would find that he stretched his image to an extent that anything less or
different was not acceptable. He was not numero uno but he had a niche and
there he was the moghul. Bachchan also went through such a phase, when he was a
tool in the hands of his directors who thought that the more ludicrous his doings,
the better the chances of his success. It is not so much about talent, not
about winning, certainly not award rave reviews and fixed awards. It is about
acceptance. It is here that Ravi Teja enters the script.
Take his latest outing: Daruvu. Maroon pants, purple shirts, on the face
defiance of gangs of guys, unbelievable heroics (even by filmi standards) blue
and green terracotta, rebirth with convenient memory, every thing that you
would normally shun. Yet you sit and lap it all – the delivery boy being: Ravi
Teja.
The film is crude. It is loud on your eyes deafening on your ears, insulting on
your intelligence and yet engaging. It may sound a contradiction but if you get
to the theatre resigned to the brand that is Ravi Teja than you have what you
expect. Also in the cast is Brahmanandam, who in a while has come up with a
role that gives him more than a few minutes on screen. As the dance teacher he
adds his brand of hilarity to the film. In fact given his exit, the film looses
a good part of its punch and since this happens all too early, the audience
does miss the veteran as the film proceeds. The others do not really matter:
Tapsee, Shushant Singh, Darmavarpu, Siyaji Shinde, Jaya Sudha, Raghu Babu,
Venella Kishore and the like who are part of the script do not matter. They are
routine. Props actually.
One normally looks for script, story, presentation, editing and the like as
factors that determine the tale and the film. Nothing this time though. This is
brand Ravi Teja, lest you forget. One only hopes that he draws a line and the
Goebel line stops some where. If only, if only, the actor does not get carried
away by the exaggeration of the cut outs that market him or the scripts that
have made him.
The beat requires a discipline, it demands a ceiling on the grotesque. There
lies the future. Certainly not the present. Watch this film only if you are the
Ravi Teja fan. Watch it also for Brahmanandam and MS Narayana. Do not forget to
take your ear plugs with you.