Radhe Shyam Review

Radhe Shyam is a period romantic drama starring Prabhas and Pooja Hegde, and Radha Krishna Kumar was the man behind the camera and in front of the page. The story deals with grand old ideas such as love, fate, destiny, and so forth. These themes are both universal and everlasting because time is the only variable. Human needs are constants. However, how a storyteller incorporates these ideas into his tale needs to evolve with time. We don't see many being wow-ed by a cave painting, do we?

Radhe Shyam tells us the story of Vikramaditya (Prabhas), the Einstein of palmistry. He is so incredible at his job that he has flashbacks and flash-forwards of every one of his clients. He is all-knowing and all-seeing. But being omniscient comes with its downsides as Vikramaditya is a man resigned to his fate. This sense of resignation pushes him to choose "flirtationships" over relationships. '

Kindly hold your cringes until the end of the review. Relationship, flirtationship, and a part of the movie's climax was set on a ship. I sense a pattern here. It was fate, I suppose.

Soon, Dr. Prerana (Pooja Hegde) crosses Vikramaditya's path. And the two end up as star-crossed lovers. An hour in screentime of loving later, the narrative poses the question, "Will fate decimate this romance on a future date?"

You might be wondering, "Why is TJ going to these extreme lengths to make such horrible jokes?" Well, it is because Radhe Shyam is an old-fashioned movie. It behooves me to criticize it with some old-fashioned jokes which my dad would find funny.

Writer/director Radha Krishna Kumar employs timeless themes in a well-worn story. The structure, stakes, and plot beats present in his film thrilled my grandparents, mildly entertained my parents, and straight-up bored my peers and me to tears. The filmmakers seem to have used the 1978 setting as an excuse to work with some 70s era storytelling techniques.

Exotic locales, larger-than-life sets, opulent costumes, well-known character actors, ear-shattering background music, and more such hijinks form the ingredients for an old cocktail that this CGI-heavy bottle struggles to contain. I choose to critique the technique and craftsmanship of this film over its plot as I'm sure that every man, woman, and child who watches this film is familiar with the machinations of this narrative. And as we know, familiarity breeds contempt.

The film finds itself in a constant need to distract its audience from looking too deeply into its characters. These tactics are as visually arresting as the giant rooms of nothing the actors find themselves in when essaying these roles. The chemistry between the characters is as manufactured, astroturfed, and downright false as the poorly rendered CGI shots scattered across the film.

Prabhas and Pooja Hegde try their damndest to infuse life into these lifeless characters. But, these people aren't interesting from the off. Vikramaditya talks of time and fate but does not incline to test his grand theories about these aspects. If he didn't have an ego the size of the Earth itself, he would have spent a fair few minutes learning about the scientific method.

Speaking of which, Dr. Prerana looks like a million bucks even though her character's circumstances dictate that it should not be the case. Let's look into the science which makes that happen as well. If I weren't writing about her relationship with Vikramaditya, you would be amazed at how little the film lets you know about her as a person. She is a hollow shell of a person whose arc and motivations are as fragile as those hollow Cadbury easter eggs you'd run into at the supermarket. 'Tis the season.

The film wastes its talented and versatile supporting cast by plopping them into weird renditions of Mastercard ads while adoring them in bad wigs. Murali Sharma gets the shortest end of the stick as he has no lines in the film. How does that happen?

It happens through the magic of editing and chopping away scenes with no rhyme or reason. Scenes in the film dovetail into each other as much as two visually impaired doves crashing into each other in midair and falling to their doom. The most telling editing snafu in the film happens at the end of the second act. A scene meant to herald the climax loses itself amidst the never-ending second act while it should have acted as a bridge between the second and third acts. It is quite the monumental blunder.

The gorgeous locales toil tirelessly to soothe the sore eyes watching this movie. Manoj Paramahamsa, a man who made Allepy feel ethereal, works wonders with an Italian backdrop. However, a combo of S. Thaman and Justin Prabhakaran sets up the film's soundscape. A constant feeling of dissonance permeates proceedings as their musical sensibilities clash constantly.

And that summarises the film Radhe Shyam quite well too. The 70s sensibilities clash violently with modern storytelling standards; the audience is quite privy to the tricks this film has up its sleeve. It is the equivalent of a close-up magician pulling a coin out of your ear. Do you applaud the effort or groan at the lack of imagination?