UI (2024) (Telugu) Review

Upendra (Uppi) isn't just a filmmaker; he's a phenomenon, a cult. Picture this: a lone figure in a dark theatre, his silhouette flickering on the screen. He's not merely directing the film - he's living it, breathing it. Upendra isn't bound by genre; his creations slip through the cracks of drama, comedy, action and thriller, surfacing as something undefinable. Yet, if you listen closely, the heartbeat of his work pulses strongest in the realm of social satire - raw, unfiltered and biting.

Imagine a kaleidoscope. The colours shift with every turn, vibrant but disorienting. This is Upendra's treatment of cinema - wacky, larger-than-life and perpetually unpredictable. Not just twist endings or plot shifts - every single frame feels like stepping onto a tightrope with no safety net.

Now, after nine long years of silence, Uppi returns. His canvas? Immense. His ambition? Towering. The screen lights up, and the audience is greeted with three sentences that hang like neon signs in the dark:

"If you are intelligent, get out of the theatre now.
If you are a fool, sit back and watch the film.
But intelligent people sometimes act like fools, and fools pretend to be intelligent."

Also, this movie has an Intel-Mission, not intermission.

At that moment, the theatre transforms. The seats, the screen, the people - all dissolve. What remains is a challenge, a dare. Total surrender is not requested but demanded.

Before the film's release, Uppi tweeted:

"Eagerly waiting...
How many screens of U I you can decode and
How much time you take to decode the last shot."

Two hours in the theatre. Six hours outside it. And still, the film lingers, like a riddle - bold, unapologetic and unforgettable.

In the opening minutes, the screen floods with vibrant hues and harmonious faces - a utopia where people of all races and continents coexist, their laughter echoing like a symphony. The world glows with an ethereal calm, where the impossible seems ordinary. But just as the audience begins to settle into this paradise, the colors bleed into grey. The utopia shatters like glass, giving way to a dystopia so stark it feels suffocating. Smoke rises, and greed devours the land. Skyscrapers crumble beneath the weight of human selfishness. The very earth, scarred and weeping, bears witness as an authoritarian leader carves lines of division through caste, class and faith. Societies fragment, torn by invisible forces of politics and fanaticism.

In this fractured world, two figures rise - Satya and Kalki, both embodied by Upendra. Satya's eyes reflect the golden hope of utopia, while Kalki's gaze darkens with dystopian shadows. In a jarring moment, Satya finds himself shackled by Kalki, imprisoned as if light itself has been locked away. But hope flickers. Satya breaks free, and with him, the screen brightens. The movie ends with a message: "Will you wait for a superpower or God to set things right, or do some introspection and take it upon yourself to salvage what is remaining?"

If you think I just spoiled the movie, you're mistaken. Upendra's films aren't about the plot; they're about the ride, the treatment - unpredictable, wild and unforgettable.

That ride begins long before the first frame. As the CBFC certificate flashes, it lingers a little longer. Then, almost mischievously, the letters "UI" grow larger. One "UI" marks the movie's name, another UI for U/A rating. The letters twist and morph, flickering through meanings - Universal Intelligence, You and I, even the tilak on Lord Balaji's forehead. The screen teases, daring the audience to decode.

The movie begins within a theater screening the movie, UI. Jubilant viewers spill into the streets, their faces glowing with newfound enlightenment. But their joy manifests in bizarre ways - men give their wives to others, they shatter their phones against pavements and empty their wallets into strangers' hands. A political rally dissolves as the crowd abandons the rally to queue for UI.

Even critics aren't immune. A sharp-tongued reviewer (Murali Sharma), known for dissecting films in minutes, vanishes for a month. His destination? Upendra's hometown. The reason? To decipher what just unfolded on screen.

The movie finally begins, attempting to compress over 2,000 years of history into a two-hour cinematic journey. To achieve this, it harnesses every tool in the filmmaker's arsenal - sweeping panning shots over Earth, its sprawling metros, its ruins, its wealthy elite, and its impoverished masses. The film oscillates between heaven-like utopias and the grim underbellies of society, with heavy use of VFX, intricate paintwork, and evocative camera angles.

Earth is depicted as a well-endowed, beautifully adorned woman, gradually stripped and left vulnerable, inching toward death. This unraveling is punctuated by stark imagery - forests razed, drugs trafficked, lives extinguished, mines gutted, lies peddled by the media, and people glued to their screens from dawn until dusk. Every destructive act mirrors a scene of the woman's disrobing, creating a visceral, symbolic commentary.

The film is a tapestry of metaphors. Some, like Earth as a woman, are subtle. Others are blunt, such as the decaying media landscape portrayed through networks labeled simply as "TRP Channel" - TRP Channel 1, TRP Channel 2, and so on. The contrasts are striking, with the serving class represented by dwarfs while their masters loom tall and imposing.

In Upendrian dystopia (yes, I'm making that a word), people have normalized the most appalling conditions - gunshots echo through the streets, and severe poverty reigns. Clothing is reduced to mere loincloths, barely preserving modesty. And what do they do? They serve their masters, wait in endless lines for government rations that only a lucky few receive, and often meet their end by falling into potholes while scrolling Instagram reels.

The downtrodden not only endure but also turn on each other, killing over the pettiest disagreements. That, too, is ordinary. Death is just another event, met with indifference. Nobody gives an F. The beatings, the deaths, and their normalisations somehow remind the audience of influences from the famous existentialist Albert Camus.

In just two hours, Upendra's dystopia unravels every layer of society - mob mentality, entrenched power structures, caste discrimination, religious violence, Instagram addiction, blind faith, corrupt politicians, and the indifferent fence-sitters who watch it all unfold without lifting a finger. All this is done in a stream of consciousness approach that you see in James Joyce's Finnegans Wake. It's like instrumental music (UI) vs songs with lyrics (all other movies). You won't find much narration in a coherent pattern, but there's rhythm to create meanings in your mind.

Upendra crafts a dual role for himself, embodying both protagonist and antagonist in a shock therapy performance that defines his signature style. The two characters stand as polar opposites in every sense - appearance, gait and demeanour. Surya, draped in white robes, is fair, soft-spoken and benevolent, willingly bearing the pain of others. In contrast, Kalki is a dark, sword-wielding force of nature, ruthless and driven by the ambition to create a supreme master who will dominate all.

Portraying such extremes demands immense range, and Upendra delivers flawlessly. This is unmistakably an Upendra film - his vision saturates every frame. The supporting cast function more like props, with minimal room for standout performances. Upendra himself admitted in a pre-release interview that the movie offers little scope for anyone but him, boldly declaring it a reflection of life itself.

Apart from Upendra, the VFX team, art director J Shivakumar and music director Ajaneesh Loknath deserve a standing ovation for their extraordinary contributions. Technically, UI redefines the user interface (UI) for feature films. The VFX team not only delivers stunning visual effects but also experiments with colour palettes and contrast. Some scenes are saturated and contrasted to extremes, while others shift between slow motion and fast motion to heighten the impact. However, the repetition of these techniques at times can strain your eyes.

The action sequences mark a first for Upendra. He performs more action in this movie than in all his previous ones combined. The choreography is exceptional, and the action drops in unexpectedly, making for a thrilling watch.

Ajaneesh Loknath's background score is phenomenal. To grasp its impact, think of the iconic intro music of Pulp Fiction during the opening credits. Now imagine that intensity stretched across two hours, amplifying the narrative at key moments. Of the two songs in the film, "Cheap Cheap" stands out with its satirical lyrics and catchy rhythm.

UI defies comparison. If you surrender to its eccentricity, it offers an unforgettable experience. The film is bound to draw polarizing reviews - many won't fully grasp it. This is a movie for the well-read, for those who appreciate cinema, poetry and art. It may not resonate with mass audiences. At times, the absurdity, rawness and boldness may feel overwhelming. Yet, by the end, it delivers a powerful message in a groundbreaking cinematic fashion. It's not for the faint-hearted or for family viewing (due to its explicit-like scenes and loud moaning). For others, it warrants multiple viewings in theatres. Regardless of its commercial success, UI stands as a one-of-a-kind project in terms of plot, treatment, narration and overall filmmaking.