‘Kothapallilo Okappudu’ Movie Review: An Oddball Comedy That Occasionally Packs A Punch

Kothapallilo Okappudu is a fun watch when it turns that switch on. The film’s characters, who come straight from a warm, oddball village comedy aesthetic, are wonderfully weird. We have a priest who doubles up as a constable when needed, a men-led recording dance troupe that is in dire need of a female dancer (because it’s time men stopped dressing up like women), and throw in the mix a sweet romance between a Zamindar’s granddaughter and an ordinary village goof. 

Praveena Paruchuri’s directorial debut follows the lives of what initially starts as an unremarkable village — a dirty loan shark is always looming in the shadows (Ravindra Vijay), a village chief (Banerjee plays Reddy) feels the need to “correct” the behaviour of daily wage workers, and a water paucity issue scares the locals. In the middle of all this characteristic small-town life is Ramakrishna (Manoj Chandra), who is probably the happiest person in the village. All he needs is to meet his childhood crush, Savitri (Monika T), and greet her with a ‘namaskaram’ for his day to be made. When he realises his troupe would benefit from a female dancer, he sets his sights on Savitri, dreaming of wooing her in the process. But this in turn leads to a comedy of errors in Kothapallilo Okappudu, where a string of auspicious and deadly events inadvertently follow.

Although the film progresses like any other comedy, it does have a political undertone. When Ramakrishna employs Aadhi Lakshmi (a brilliant Usha Bonela) to coax Savitri into dancing in his troupe, he convinces her by bringing up her dad’s unpaid debt to Appana, the treacherous loan shark. “I’ll help pay off your debt,” he tempts her. The way one describes Aadhi Lakshmi might depend greatly on who you ask. If you ask Savitri, her privilege will tell you that Aadhi is her best friend, but if you ask Aadhi herself, she’ll probably describe herself as Savitri’s servant. Appana, whose day job is to taunt and sexualise every woman in the village, is never once glorified. But even his backstory — he once used to be Reddy’s servant — ties into how biases among these villagers function. 

Paruchuri puts a lot of these characters into complex and compelling situations, urging us to think about the power dynamics that privilege and caste often bring into village settings. But the film does falter in getting the tone right at times. Even if it never resorts to leaving Aadhi shortchanged at any point, we are made to sit through unnecessary jokes that take digs at her appearance. Appana’s character development, too, leaves a lot to be desired, considering how complicated his arc is. The characters are certainly goofy and ergo instantly likeable on paper, but all their stories often don’t get the time to breathe (like the Muslim gentleman who has one of the best dialogues in the film: “God isn’t defined by lies or truths, but belief,” he says).

Petros Antoniadis’s camera gives the film a soft aesthetic, adding to the film’s intimate treatment of its characters. Unlike many of the other small village comedies we’ve seen, Kothapallilo Okappudu also chases a far larger story — a track involving belief and superstition provides some laughs in the film. It is a bumpy ride — some of its weighty scenes involving a contract over a marriage could’ve been handled with much more depth — but Paruchuri largely ties up the loose ends.