Amidst the resurgence of comedy dramas in Indian cinema, ‘Ramana Avatara’ hit theatres with the promise of laughter and nostalgia, banking on the charm of Rishi, who left audiences in splits with his breakout role in the 2017 hit ‘Operation Alamelamma’. Regrettably, this latest silver screen venture by director Vikas Pampapathi falls significantly short of its aspirations, becoming a stark reminder that the nuanced genre of dark humour remains an uncracked code in Kannada cinema.
Rishi returns to the big screen in a quirky rendition of a well-acquainted Indian epic, cast as Rama—a laid-back millennial devoid of grand life schemes. But the narrative propels forward when Rama, driven by a new-found ambition to improve his village, decides to throw his hat into the ring for the upcoming local elections. The plot thickens as Rama’s journey takes a detour akin to the legendary vanavasa (exile) when his close friend, played by Anirudh Acharya, elopes with the village’s election funds, prompting Rama’s escape to the coastal city of Mangaluru.
In this scenic backdrop meets Rama his modern-day Sita, portrayed by Pranitha Subhash, sparking a romance that struggles to blossom on screen. Their love story is swiftly and flatly encapsulated within the confines of a musical number, shedding little light on the enigma of their attraction or the dynamics of their relationship.
Complications surge when Sita is spirited away to Bengaluru by Alexander, a feared gangster caricature of Ravana given exaggerated life by Arun Sagar. This narrative arc intends to elicit laughs with its over-the-top portrayal and antiquated dialogue but instead becomes a laborious watch.
The first half of the film offers a few comedic highlights, keeping viewers engaged with a brisk pace and the occasional surprising twist. However, as the film shifts into its second act, the energy plummets; the script runs out of steam and Pampapathi’s direction seems analogous to a marathon runner who has spent his energy too prematurely, leaving a trail of exhausted clichés and ineffective scenes.
Rishi, with his impeccable comic timing and expressive mannerisms, does his utmost to salvage the material, but an actor—no matter how skilled—cannot carry a comedy alone. The film’s disproportionate focus on Rishi’s character and the lack of depth and humor in the supporting cast blunts the comedic edge ‘Ramana Avatara’ so desperately needs.
Moreover, the film audaciously introduces clever ideas that unfortunately fall flat due to overextension, like the sequence on the ban of marijuana in Bengaluru, which initially presents as a witty premise yet loses its charm through tedious and overstretched dialogue. Similarly, a subplot where Rama unwittingly befriends the antagonist, Alexander, drags on to the point of disengagement, further diluting the narrative’s intended humor.
Perhaps the most telling sign of the film’s struggle comes in its concluding moments. ‘Ramana Avatara’ resolves its central conflict yet meanders listlessly towards its ending, much to the spectators’ frustration. A silent audience chamber—the paragon of comedic failure—serves as the final verdict during what was hoped to be a laughter-filled escapade.
While the film may continue its cinematic run, ‘Ramana Avatara’ is an exercise in missed potential. The director’s ambition for a rollicking comedy ride stumbles, rendering a lesson in the importance of sharp writing and well-crafted humor necessary to sustain such a genre. The end product is a movie that finds itself awkwardly suspended between the intent of high-spirited satire and the reality of an underwhelming comedy, leaving fans yearning for the wit and vivacity once brought to life by the actor in ‘Operation Alamelamma’. Ramana Avatara stands as a testament to the ongoing challenge that Kannada and broader Indian cinema face in mastering the delicate art of dark, intelligent humor.
