Night has fallen. On a busy street, a man is carelessly attempting to find his way. He is nearly struck by a speeding automobile. “Ae andha hai kya?” is the driver’s catchphrase, which ought to be on T-shirts worn by road ragers everywhere. (Dude, do you not see?). What are the chances? In actuality, the man is. Let’s go back to a situation from earlier. In his father’s arms, this man is now a baby, and awareness is starting to dawn on him. Rajkummar Rao’s voiceover introduces his character, saying, “I am Srikanth Bolla.” “The brightest thing in my father’s eye, but blind.” In a different scene, Srikanth is currently battling in court to be given the opportunity to choose the Science path for Higher Secondary. He says anything as insignificant as “kanoon” (law) being “andha” (blind). Aa raha hai sabki aankhein kholne is the film’s slogan, which also says, “He is coming to open everyone’s eyes.”
In a movie that adamantly urges viewers not to minimise the character’s disability, Srikanth never falters in wordplay that has anything to do with vision. Srikanth’s other scenes are all designed to arouse either sadness or triumph. Rather than allowing the scenes speak for themselves, the characters use low-hanging metaphors and puns to preach to the audience. Additionally, the story is one-note. “Srikanth came, Srikanth saw (no irony intended), Srikanth conquered” is the entire story.
Srikanth is an adoring and straightforward biographical film directed by Tushar Hiranandani (‘Scam 2003: The Telgi Story’). Bolla is the first internationally matriculated visually impaired student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) and the founder of Bollant Industries, a recycled packaging paper company that attracts major investors such as former president APJ Abdul Kalam and Ratan Tata. The makers choose to present a derivative story that is full of sequences that are begging for applause and cheers, despite the fact that the idea is brilliant and deserves a more in-depth and nuanced analysis.
There’s also a mind-numbing linearity to the story. As was previously mentioned, after learning that Srikanth is blind, his father decides not to bury him. As he gets older, the boy demonstrates brilliance. He can outsmart even people who are blind in a game of chess; he can solve problems for X orally; he turns in his exam sheet ahead of time. However, after being rejected from the Higher Secondary Science stream, Srikanth chooses to sue the Indian educational system.
Following a courtroom sequence that would make “Damini” (1993) blush, Srikanth prevails. In addition, he is chosen for the Indian blind cricket team; however, he must give up his desire to don the blue jersey in order to pursue his greater ambition of attending MIT. After falling in love, he returns to India, meets an investor, launches Bollant, gets called “God” by people with disabilities, develops a megalomania, realises his mistakes, and eventually makes his way back home.
The drama unfolds pit stop after pit stop with disinterest. Rajkummar Rao’s act, however, is a slight relief. He is perfect at portraying the mannerisms of a visually impaired man and prevents the performance from becoming a caricature. But in an earnest attempt to get the physicality right, Rajkummar loses grip on the character’s emotional arc. His acting, as a result, is more sincere than deep.
There is a slight attempt to shake the glorifying, run-of-the-mill biopic. Srikanth develops a power-hungry attitude in the second half. He starts using his disability to pull favours. It’s a diabolically nice touch but is rather quickly resolved, as if added as an afterthought. Before you realise it, our feelings for the movie’s protagonist are once again wavering between sympathy and adoration.
I couldn’t completely understand Srikanth’s point of view. Its teachings of “empathy not sympathy” seemed hollow because Srikanth’s infirmity was the only thing the movie could focus on. It seemed hurried, attempting to condense a person’s entire life into two hours in the hopes of painting a clear picture of his character. It tried not to take itself too seriously, but it did. The contemporary version of “Papa Kehte Hain” from “Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak” (1988) aimed to uplift and energise us after each scene. I’ll resist the temptation to end with a pun about vision. All of it was ignored.
