‘Ustaad Bhagat Singh’ Movie Review: Propped Up By Pawan Kalyan, Undone By Musty Template

Very early on in the film, we learn that Ustaad Bhagat Singh is a child not only of voracious reading abilities but also of deep curiosity about various texts. He quotes Bhagat Singh one day and the Bhagavad Gita the next. Watching this prologue, we’re blissfully unaware of just how seriously the filmmaker takes this odd contrast in interest. Because what quickly follows is an incoherent and terribly oversimplified depiction of violence and discourses that are religiously coded.

Ustaad Bhagat Singh (Pawan Kalyan), named after the Indian revolutionary, doesn’t get too much of a backstory. Orphaned since he can remember, he sustains through his found family – his headmaster (KS Ravikumar) and lunch lady (Gautami). His personality is led by a fierce sense of morality and a penchant for taking the law into his own hands. It only makes sense that he goes on to become a cop. But this is as early as where things get disjointed. Ustaad Bhagat Singh is largely shaped by the two halves of Ustaad’s life. A life that leads him to fall in love, and a life that locks his horns with that of the acting Chief Minister (Parthiban). The tissues that connect these two blocks are almost non-existent, making the film a jumble of harried elements such as ‘dance’, ‘fight’, ‘tears’, and ‘dance’ again, rather than a palatable, so-called full-meal entertainer the film is aiming for. 

The film, especially in its third act, functions purely as an assembly line of clichés. It takes us millions of steps back with a sexual assault subplot callously thrown in just to underline the machismo of heroes, in a film that’s already just that. The assault, filmed naturally bereft of the survivor’s agency or sensibility, is uncomfortable to sit through and drags on for more than necessary. Tears of rage and unwarranted saviour complex are cut with song and dance in the next scene, and every moment of drama is forgotten as quickly as it's created on page. Sreeleela and Raashii Khanna come and go with no real development, let alone any sense of agency.

It’s hard to take the film seriously when almost every character is exaggerated beyond proportion. Everyone surrounding Ustaad is a highly coloured caricature — villains assault women, journalists simp over “spicy” news, heroes are chest-thumping vigilantes, and sidekicks remain not to alert the hero, but to sing his praise. It also doesn't help when some of its dialogue become the unintentional object of derision. "He dragged away a terrorist like a teddy," is what goes for high praise here. A terrorist named Baghdadi has an almost perfect catchphrase: "I'm Baghdadi, pakka jihadi," he says, spoonfeeding the unacquainted with the film's ethos. You might ask what terrorists are doing in a film like this. No one really knows, and in that you have company, including possibly the writing department.

Pawan Kalyan is his usual charming self and gets a few laughs going here and there. But the writing wears thin, and the dull indolence of it all chips away at our reserves of patience.