Some spoilers ahead!
For those who haven’t seen the previous instalment, the first chapter of “K.G.F” traces the journey of Rocky bhai (“rocking star” Yash), the son of a working class woman who has one dream: her son should die a rich and powerful man.
What follows is a rags-to-riches story, trailing Rocky as he toils and rises as a mafioso—first, in the streets of Bombay, and then, the blood-soaked gold mines of Kolar, Karnataka. Hence, Kolar Gold Fields. With me, yet? Let’s keep going!
“K.G.F: Chapter 2” starts off with Rocky bhai on a high note, aptly conveyed by his grand entrance when he arrives by helicopter to the war tune-like beat of a hundred drums. Has Kannada cinema finally arrived in front of a pan-Indian audience, following in the footsteps of Telugu director SS Rajamouli? The box office seems to be nodding vigorously.
Director Prashanth Neel calls the KGF genre of cinema “anti-gravity films”. Anyone reminded of cars flying in Rohit Shetty films? Well, ditto. This means that the film follows a logic of its own. You have to suspend your disbelief and buy into the contradictions of the world created by the makers.
It is a world that is both rooted in Indian, politico-historical events and post-apocalyptic, à la “Mad Max: Fury Road”. Rocky is both the hero and the anti-hero; a Robin Hood and a Rockefeller.
Ban Ja Tu Meri Rani?
Rocky can be seen channelling a bit of Bachchan and some more of Brando. He arrives with full swagger and casual sexism, oh-so-characteristic of a south Indian star hero, to meet his illicit business partners in the black market gold trade. He establishes himself at the head of the table, having killed the menacing mob boss (Garuda) in the first chapter.
He also Stockholm syndromes his “rani” (named Reena) into staying with him. He calls her his “entertainment” and even picks out the clothes he would like to see her in. Love blossoms, of course, just like it did for beauty and the beast, nay, more like it did for Laura and Massimo in “365 Days”. Reena becomes Rocky’s safe haven and oasis. That’s all there is to her. Her purpose is to serve his needs.
Unlike the first chapter, the jump cuts and the way the film has been edited (by 19-year-old Ujjwal Kulkarni) is easier to sink your teeth into this time around. You have Prakash Raj’s character acting as the narrator, his soothing voice guiding you along as the story progresses. Being the polyglot that he is, Raj dubbed in all the languages the film was released in.
Also, the clever camera work (Bhuvan Gowda) only adds to the experience as you feel the scorching atmosphere of the desert dunes the baddies keep zipping through, in their badass motorcars. The sound effects added to the tension, but got a bit much for me at points. Headache alert for the light-headed.
You Can Call Me ‘Big Daddy’!
What I liked about the film was that it very much reminded me of Amitabh Bachchan’s “angry young man” days. The director is a self-proclaimed fan of Big B and classics from the ‘70s. So, naturally, Rocky is hyper masculine and he makes no qualms about it—like it or leave it. If he is angry about something, he is going to make it your problem. Let me explain how with the help of a scene.
At one point in the film, he gets mad about the cops having confiscated a single gold biscuit from a wealth worth tonnes. He wants every single bit of the loot so he heads to the police station to retrieve the said biscuit. A chotu from a chai ki dukaan announces that he is Raja Krishnappa Bairya. Apparently, they are both from the same village. Didn’t I ask you to suspend your disbelief already?
Rocky then proceeds to fire at the police station with a Russian-made war gun the local arms peddler calls “dodha amma” (BIG MOMMA). After riddling the station with bullets, Rocky bhai (read: baap) uses the glowing barrel of the gun to light his cigarette. The chotu then says Rocky is the “dodha appa” (BIG DADDY).
The film is replete with quirky and zingy bits like this one, giving it that instant pop culture appeal that some American superhero franchises have. Think desi “Deadpool”. Take the scene where Rocky mouths, “Violence, violence, violence. I don’t like it. I avoid. But, violence likes me. I can’t avoid,” for instance.
Of K.G.F And Communal Polarisation In Karnataka
What I also liked about KGF is that in a communally charged Karnataka (be it the hiijab ban, halal meat ban, or Rama navami violence), it feels good to see the film make plenty of use of Hindi, Dakhni and Muslim characters. One part of me knows that it was also to cater to a more pan-India audience. But, still: credit where credit’s due.
For instance, a young Muslim man named Farmaan and his widowed ammi play a pivotal role in adding to the emotional layering of the film. As I mentioned right at the beginning of this piece, the mother-and-child bond forms the core underpinning of the film. Farmaan’s ammi calls Rocky bhai the “sultan” and incants that his sultanate will remain indestructible, in the form of a dua.
Also, Rocky bhai responds to the Sheikh-looking kingpin, Inayath Khaleel’s greeting of “assalum waleikum” (may peace be upon you), with a swift “walaikum assalam, wa rahmatullahi barakatuh” (and upon you be peace, as well as the mercy of god and his blessings).
Rocky says his country teaches him to respect all faiths. The impact of saying and seeing this on the big screen shouldn’t be discounted.
Sanju Baba No More A Hero?
What disappointed me about the film, apart from its obvious lack of strong women, was the way Adheera’s (Sanjay Dutt’s character modelled on a ruthless Viking warrior) arc played out. He looked like a fearsome adversary for sure, but I had trouble believing in his enmity with Rocky. The second half felt like it dragged on forever, whereas the first half was much more gripping.
Dutt’s “Adheera” is along the lines of his roles in “Agneepath” and “Panipat”. There comes a time in every leading man’s career where he can either adapt or retire (read: become irrelevant). Think Akshay Kumar transitioning from action flicks to comic ones to so-called, socially relevant ones. Even Bachchan sahab had to do it. Why do I suspect that Dutt has begun making the transition, too?
One might be tempted to argue that Raveena Tandon’s “Ramika Sen”, the prime minister of India clearly modelled on Indira Gandhi, is a woman and a formidable foe. But, she doesn’t do much except getting annoyed, attacking Burma (now Myanmar) on a whim, and following it up with threatening Rocky bhai on national television. At one point, Rocky walks into the Lok Sabha assembly dripping with blood and armed to attack. Ramika Sen proceeds to glare. All bark and no bite, methinks.
I could go on and on about the film, but I would rather let you decide for yourself. All I can offer are my two cents and good wishes. After all, the film seems to have struck gold with the single screen and multiplex audiences both. So, watch “K.G.F: Chapter 2” for its scale and swagger, but not for its gender representation or grounded-ness.