Devara's self-appointed guardian of the sea unleashing violence as a means to end violence is purely Junior NTR fan-tasy, observes Sukanya Verma.
Any major movie that has Part 1 in its title will translate to unfinished business.
Only it's not due to the cliffhanger moment that Devara: Part 1 arrives at after three hours of slow-motion savagery and bombastic heroics but a glaring lack of end goal in Koratala Siva's generic spectacle.
Unable to fully lure us into its furore or make sense of its ambiguity, the curse of the sequel relying on the first one to succeed is fast setting a worrying precedent of fragmented filmmaking.
World building is of little consequence if the larger objectives remain unclear and Devara's hazy approach tells it doesn't wish to count its chickens before they hatch. Which is why you'll never understand why India hosting the cricket World Cup has anything to do with a cop's pursuit of a fabled seaside superhero on a remote island far, far away from the mainland.
Told in flashback by a sagely Prakash Raj, embodying the stereotypical old chap who's lived long and seen enough, Devara: Part 1 sets itself up as yet another showcase for Nandamuri Taraka Rama Rao Jr's stardom and charisma.
Introduced on screen as the man of the masses, it's his series of wolf-whistle entries, showboating swagger and stunning bombshells that provide Koratala Siva’s grim-toned yet pompous extravaganza its vitality.
Don't expect anything else though.
The one-man Taarak show in a double role, father-son avatar is a relentless grits and glory exercise highlighting him as a force of nature exalted by Composer Anirudh's thumping All Hail supremacy.
Spanning the 1980s and 1990s, a remote coastal town by the Red Sea inhabiting four villages and their respective clans survive the apathy of the authorities by smuggling goods on cargo ships for their overseas clients. Unlike their morally superior ancestors defending the border from harm's way, the new generation uses their underwater guerilla tactics as a means to survive.
It's a whole new world where men and mosquitoes die as easily and meaninglessly.
The villagers have their own way of doing things, which is largely barbaric and involves worshipping weapons like deities.
An annual ritual of men fighting each other in the ring is rewarded with what almost looks like the iron throne in Westeros.
Recycling the age-old story of bitter rivalry and brooding revenge between righteous rage and misguided violence, Devara (Junior NTR) and Bhaira's (Saif Ali Khan) Baahubali-Bhallaladeva equation is never on equal footing.
Where Devara's self-appointed guardian of the sea unleashing violence as a means to end violence makes for a purely Junior NTR fan-tasy, Saif Ali Khan's brooding antagonist spends most of his time as his glorified sidekick glowering at the hate army he's build out of grizzly haired men or concocting wily schemes that are certain of his foe's participation to work.
Amusing how even Saif’s sling-sporting arm, which looks like the one he sustained from an injury on the sets, is woven into the plot.
The women of Devara are an inconsequential presence, either there to sob for their sons or sigh over their sweethearts.
You'll see more of Janhvi Kapoor promoting her Telugu debut, which has someone dubbing for her and Saif, than you see her in the actual movie.
The actress, known for her carefully picked author-backed roles, shows up only post interval to pout and preen around NTR's machismo.
Despite its sea-filled imagery, mostly a mix of grand sets and modest visual effects, it's not the technological wizardry but NTR Jr's dynamism that does the trick. He goes about justice seeking for better or worse, leaving us wondering if the father-son dynamic is anything like Shankar's Indian, Atlee's Jawan or the likes of Zorro.
Devara certainly has a knack for carving an angry mark on his adversaries like the swashbuckler.
Some moments stand out more than others when straying away from the formulaic rut.
More than Devara's son unleashing Hanuman-like ignorance of his own strength with gusto in the fighting ring, it's the scene where weapon-wielding humans crawl out of the beach like crabs charging towards Devara that evokes awe.
Or the one right before that when a merrily drunk Devara breaks into a sublime jig by the campfire overwhelmed by emotions at a marriage ceremony.
There's a cinematic quality to these one-off moments when not succumbing to the 'mass' pandering momentum.
