One lifetime is insufficient to fulfil certain pledges. That is one of the topics in Nani’s new film Shyam Singha Roy.
According to a trade estimate, the worldwide box office collection of Rahul Sankrityan’s directorial attempt stands at 46 crores, with distributors collecting Rs 26.50 per share. Following a spectacular opening weekend, the film performed well on Monday in Telugu states, before dropping over the weekdays, as is typical for the genre. The film is estimated to gross Rs 50 crore at the box office. It will be the first Nani film to make more than Rs 50 crore globally.
Vasu (Nani), an aspiring filmmaker, begins the film by quitting a well-paying software job to follow his passion for filmmaking. To obtain money for his project, he must first demonstrate his talent to a prospective producer by creating a short film. And Vasu’s short film is failed to take off since he hasn’t found the proper actor to play his female heroine. He meets Keerthy (Krithi Shetty), who is not an actress, as if on cue. She is simply socialising with her buddies at a coffee shop.
Vasu, on the other hand, sees his heroine in her and begins to persuade her. He’s the type of person that doesn’t take no for an answer. He even follows her. Keerthy agrees to act in his film before it becomes scary and a prosecutable violation. It’s more like he blackmailed her into the agreement.
During the filming, Keerthy gets harassed in public. Vasu, of course, goes up against the goons. He is slapped in the back of the head during the fight and turns into a left-handed combatant. This looks to be a storyline twist, since the headshot appears to have awoken memories of his previous existence. However, we soon learn that this is not the case. He has been experiencing memories from his previous life for a long time. It’s the first time we’ve seen the other man who lives within Vasu’s head.
Keerthy is also earning her master’s degree in psychology, which means she has access to a smart-looking psychology professor who is well-versed in hypnosis. It’s tough to explain why characters in our movies who suffer from multiple personality disorder are constantly in a relationship with a psychology student. Remember Ambi and his Anniyan sweetheart, Nandini? You get the idea.
Why can’t Keerthy pursue a degree in English literature? Or is it anything else? Why does everything have to be psychology all the time? She could have gone to a psychologist even if she wasn’t a psychology student.
Vasu, like Ambi, is mesmerised, and we enter the chapters of his mind that contain the narrative of Shyam Singha Roy alongside him. The film takes place in late 1960s Bengal, at the height of untouchability and caste segregation. It hasn’t completely evaporated, but social reformers like Shyam may have thought that by 2021, people wouldn’t still be clinging to their caste pride. Unfortunately, the bulk of us still do.
Shyam is a staunch communist who believes that when it comes to disseminating one’s philosophy, a pen is mightier than a firearm. He looks Mythiri, a Devadasi, just as he is about to board his train to Howrah. Another type of enslavement and exploitation is depicted in the film.
Also Read, The Royal Treatment: A Cute Dream of Every Girl
The major opponent in the film is not a man, but societal inequity, which serves as a fertile ground for many social and humanitarian catastrophes. Honor murders, for example, occur because some individuals believe they are more precious and holy than others. Inequality is at the root of this societal calamity. Even women who are said to be close to divinity are sexually exploited because some men believe they are second only to God.
As a result, Shyam’s enemy is not the megalomaniacal godman or the villagers who believe in the caste system. However, it is the ideology that causes inequality. And, as the saying goes, ideas are bulletproof. And the only way to combat negative notions is to educate people and develop self-respect for them.
To director-writer Rahul Sankrityan’s credit, the film’s hero lives and battles via the pen rather than through violence. The film’s period scenes are a feast for the eyes. Pallavi’s traditional dance performance in a crimson saree is breathtaking. Her mere presence on the screen raises a situation to a higher level. The period-appropriate set elements are simple but powerful. And the moonlight shots at night are peaceful.
The film’s treatment of the problem of honour killing startled me. When we hear such words in a movie, we usually presume that the victim is a woman. But we seldom think of a guy succumbing to this wickedness. In addition, Rahul’s brave decision to liberally incorporate Bengali lines in the film is remarkable.
The Telugu subtitles display when characters speak Bengali. However, even if you can’t read Telugu, there are enough hints on the screen to bring you up to date with the tale.
