Phule
Rating – **1/2 (2.5/5)
Cast: Pratik Gandhi, Patralekhaa & more
Directed by: Ananth Narayan Mahadevan
In theaters now
More often than not, when you’re giving an opinion about a movie you’ve watched, it is unfairly reduced to the binary question of whether it’s ‘good’ or ‘bad’, or even worse, the bastardised and overused stamp of being a ‘one-time watch.’ But some films resist such categorisation — sometimes in a ‘good’ way, and sometimes in a ‘bad’ way (see what I did there?). Phule, starring the ever-committed Pratik Gandhi and the sincere Patralekhaa in lead roles, is a perplexing film — and that’s perhaps the recurring sentiment with a slew of films lately.
As a period drama, Phule ambitiously juggles multiple timelines — beginning in 1897, jumping to 1848, detouring briefly into the 1818s, and circling back to the 1850s. Despite the temporal leaps, the message, thankfully, remains crystal clear. We meet the phenomenal Jyotirao Phule (Pratik Gandhi) and his equally formidable wife, Savitribai Phule (Patralekhaa) — individuals who, quite frankly, are a gazillion times more progressive, intelligent, and socially aware than a large swathe of people even today. And mind you, this is nearly two centuries ago we’re talking about.
With Phule, all of the rousing aspects land more powerfully due to its basis in historical reality than through the cinematic narrative itself.
Jyotiba wages battle after battle after battle — none of them with swords or guns, but through the power of thought, speech, and rebellion against societal constructs. Convincing a regressive society to rise above its archaic beliefs, fighting against gender inequality, caste discrimination, and the denial of education to women — it is the sort of uphill battle that feels impossible to even imagine, let alone endure. But Jyotiba and Savitribai did just that. Their unrelenting efforts form the backbone of a story that, on paper, is rousing, inspiring, mind-boggling, and wholly deserving of a standing ovation.
Unfortunately for the film Phule, all of this lands more powerfully due to its basis in historical reality than through the cinematic narrative itself.
The film falters — and quite noticeably so — in its screenplay, which trudges along at a snail’s pace. Often, it feels like even the situations and dialogues are moving in slow motion — not by stylistic design, but by an inexplicable lethargy. Don’t get me wrong. The expectation was never to have a high-octane drama or flashy set pieces, as the subject matter inherently doesn’t allow for that. But what could’ve worked beautifully is a deep dive into the personal lives of these giants, giving us intimate, emotionally charged glimpses that shaped their ideologies and decisions. Instead, the film opts for a scattered and sometimes jarringly non-cohesive structure that struggles to find the emotional rhythm of its own story. Scenes seem to exist in silos, loosely connected, never quite achieving the sense of an arc or a crescendo that builds with impact.
To its credit, Phule excels in the technical departments. The period setting is immersive and lived-in — the costumes, the production design, the atmosphere — all feel like they belong. The transition to the era is near flawless, and for that, the film deserves applause. Yet, it also has some glaringly obvious slip-ups — ones that become impossible to ignore. Chief among them is Pratik Gandhi’s conspicuously groomed beard — yes, every single time he appears on screen. The cut, the style — it screams of a modern-day skilled barber’s precision, and once noticed, it refuses to be unseen.
And since we’re already talking about Gandhi, let’s linger a bit more. The man lives and breathes Jyotirao Phule. His performance is everything we’ve come to expect from him and more. That chameleon-like transformation, especially in his portrayal of the aged and ailing Phule, is an acting masterclass — understated, powerful, and deeply affecting. Gandhi doesn’t act as Phule — he becomes him.
The film becomes too much like a history textbook — flipping through chapters, ticking off milestones.
Then there’s Patralekhaa, who surprisingly gets the kind of screentime that actresses often only dream of — and rightly so, considering Savitribai’s towering historical presence. This is undoubtedly her crowning jewel role. There are moments where her sincerity shines — especially in scenes of righteous rage and silent resolve. However, more often than not, she falters. Her accent and tonal inflections become a stumbling block, rendering the performance inconsistent. The effort is evident, almost too evident — and that’s the problem. Her tendency to over-enunciate dilutes the emotional authenticity. One finds themselves admiring her effort, but not quite feeling the impact of her character’s gravitas.
Director Ananth Narayan Mahadevan, much like his female lead, is undeniably earnest. His research is extensive — and it shows. The attention to historical detail, the meticulous effort to piece together events from dusty archives — it’s all there, proudly on display. But therein lies the rub. The film becomes too much like a history textbook — flipping through chapters, ticking off milestones. At times, it feels less like a motion picture and more like an extremely well-narrated audiobook — informative, thorough, even enlightening, but bereft of the visceral punch one seeks when watching the heroic tale of two legendary trailblazers unfold on the big screen.
So, where does that leave us?
Phule is a film with its heart in the right place, its facts in impeccable order, and its cast giving it their all. But what it misses is the soul-stirring alchemy that turns a historical recounting into a cinematic experience. It’s a film that deserves to be watched, certainly — but not necessarily for the film itself. Watch it for the story, for the history, for the real-life figures who dared to change the world. Just don’t expect the storytelling to move you the way the truth of their lives inevitably will.
