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Salaar Movie Review: It's tempting to dub 'Salaar Part One' 'KGF' Redux, except it is bigger and bloodier. It is bathed in the same colour:
Salaar Story: Deva, also known as Cutout (Prabhas), fondly called by children, lives near a coal mine with his mother (Easwari Rao) in the remote village of Tinsukia in Assam. For the last seven years, they have moved from place to place, with his mother keeping a stringent watch on Deva, shielding him from violence. Working as a mechanic, Deva is docile and minds his own business until Aadhya (Shruti Haasan), who is in danger from Obulamma (Jhansi), is brought into the mix by Billal for refuge. Meanwhile, in the tumultuous city of Khansar, Raja Mannar (Jagapathi Babu) prepares to make his son, Vardha (Prithviraj Sukumaran), his successor. This decision triggers a dangerous coup, orchestrated by Mannar's ministers and advisors. The plot thickens as foreign armies from various countries are hired to cause chaos. As Radha, daughter and in charge of Khansar in Raja Mannar’s absence, announces a partial ceasefire of nine days before calling for a vote by representatives of 101 tribes of the empire. Under existential threat, Vardha calls on his childhood best friend, Deva. Will Deva embark on the perilous mission and save Vardha? Will there be a ceasefire or a bloodbath?
Salaar Review: Salaar: Part 1 – Ceasefire, directed by Prashanth Neel, unfolds in the rustic and politically charged landscape of Khansar. This action-packed film, featuring Prabhas as Deva and Prithviraj Sukumaran as Vardharaja, is set against a backdrop of intrigue and rebellion, relying heavily on drama as well as swag and action. Prashanth has meticulously created the dystopian city of Khansar with intricate details, establishing a multitude of characters with a narrative spanning between 1747 and the present times. Reminiscent of Black Panther, the empire boasts 101 tribes with distinct characteristics, divided into three divisions, including Kaparlu (clan leaders) and Doralu (council members).
A man of few words, Prabhas packs a punch with his dialogues and looks slick in action sequences, making the film a feast for his ardent fans. Prashanth leaves no opportunity to elevate the character of Deva aka Salaar, masterfully making his protagonist appear larger than life. The screenplay takes its own sweet time in the first half to establish the character of Deva, creating a slow burn and preparing audiences for what is to come.
Prashanth Neel takes an unconventional route in narrating this dystopian world and its characters, leaning more towards international cinema. Much like the KGF franchise, the director adheres to a dark colour palette. The film eschews typical dance numbers or romantic melodies, instead relying on situational anthems sung by school children in the first half and by children from the Mahara tribe in the second half, which enhance the drama. The film explores themes of power, loyalty, betrayal, and the right to leadership, delving into the complexities of political machinations and personal allegiances, offering a compelling commentary on power struggles.
Prabhas, as Deva, is both electrifying and docile, delivering a performance that combines raw power with deep emotional depth. His portrayal of Salaar showcases his ability to balance raw aggression with subtle emotional nuances. Prithviraj Sukumaran, as Vardha, portrays the vulnerability and determination of a young heir caught in a political whirlwind, yet harboring his own strategic calculations. His compelling performance adds a layer of complexity to the narrative. As the film progresses, Prithviraj’s character exudes strength and valour. Shruti Haasan, in her role as Aadhya, brings a sense of balance but is mostly limited to the first half and a few scenes in the second.
Jagapathi Babu, as Raja Mannar, delivers a commanding performance, while Bobby Simha, Tinnu Anand, Easwari Rao, and others contribute significantly to the story's depth. The supporting cast, including Sriya Reddy, Ramachandra Raju, Madhu Guruswamy, John Vijay, Saptagiri, Prudhvi Raj, Jhansi and Mime Gopi, adds layers to the narrative.
The cinematography captures the essence of Khansar's tumultuous atmosphere, immersing the audience in the city's tension and drama. Ravi Basrur’s soundtrack adds a robust layer to the film's atmosphere, complementing the tone and heightening the emotional impact of certain scenes. The editing is sharp in the second half, though it cannot be said the same for the first. The special effects are effective, contributing significantly to the film's visual appeal.
The film does feature a certain amount of violence and bloodshed, which may not be palatable for certain sections of the audience. The first half is layered, focusing on the drama and sense of tension in the air. Audiences expecting a lot of action, comedy, and masala might be disappointed. However, it does score high on drama and action, with a bit of humour created through the delivery of dialogues or the body language of certain characters.
Salaar: Part 1 – Ceasefire combines political drama with high-stakes action and champions brotherhood. It is a riveting watch for those with a taste for grand and epic narratives. Fans of Prabhas and Prithviraj Sukumaran will find much to admire in this intense and captivating film. It's a film that will entertain and impress with its scale, but might require some patience in the initial stages, mostly establishing the world of Khansar and its inhabitants and setting the stage for Salaar:
Indian cinema heroes have a GoDd complex. This God complex in our films is best enjoyed when it is an accidental occurrence. The heroes don’t know when they will turn into God for the scores of people waiting for a saviour. In Prashanth Neel’s latest, Salaar, a rather inspiring retelling of his debut film, Ugramm, there is a scene where Prabhas’ Deva is built up to be this saviour/God. He doesn’t know who he is going to slay. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t know the repercussions of his singular act. He doesn’t care. But why does he use an axe, a gun, a sword, and a trident to do away with around 25-30 henchmen and their chieftain? Because they dared to lay a hand on a young girl. Now, he cares.
As the bloody rampage comes to a close, an old and weary woman comes hobbling with a walking stick, touches his arm, and says, “I’m just checking if you are real or not…” Deva is not just a God in Salaar… he is a myth, and sometimes these myths cannot be bound by earthly concepts like logic.
Salaar begins with the story of two friends — Deva and Varadha — and how each of them expresses their affection towards each other with an act of sacrifice that belies their age. There is a promise between these friends that results in a bloody violent saga 25 years later.
But just like the film, let’s get back to this later. We first have to see why Deva, who is shown to be a violent man in flashes, is now a docile mechanic based in Assam. We also have to see why his mother (Easwari Rao) is wary of even seeing a plastic knife in his hand. Of course, there are glimpses of his brute strength and potential, and we know he is a ticking time bomb. But when would he explode? It is this buildup that Prashanth gets right. There is not a single soul in the audience who thinks Deva is going to remain a non-violent person, and yet… we stay for the ride. And finally, when the punches fly like cannonballs, the kicks land like a fallen tree, our patience is vindicated.
Prabhas is a monstrous presence in Salaar, and he looks every part a killing juggernaut. While watching him steamroll his way through his adversaries, we hardly feel distracted because the stunt choreography, cinematography (Bhuvan Gowda), music (Ravi Basrur), and editing (Ujjwal) find newer ways to mount similar scenes. One might think there is only so much novelty you can bring to the 73rd stunt sequence. But then, Prashanth finds a way to ensure we are invested even if the happenings are familiar.
Take, for instance, the scene where Deva and Varadha stand side-by-side to defeat an army of rabid drugged-up youngsters. It gives us the feel of suddenly watching a zombie film, and yet, Prashanth uses this as the only scene where we have the two friends actually having a conversation about what happened in the 25 years they were away from each other. There is also this scene where Deva is placed like a God with weapons coming out of various hands. Now, we have seen this imagery many a time in the past, but it is a treat to see how Prashanth envisions this scene. Of course, he might not yet be well-versed in the art of pulling back punches, and reining in the melodrama, but why should he? The formula seems to be working so far. Also, there are some interesting places that I didn’t quite expect the film to go to but before pondering on the nuances we are pulled back into the world of Khansaar.
Although Prithviraj has very little to do in Salaar Part 1: Ceasefire, it is clear that his story is the emotional core of the film. We are shown enough to understand that Part 2 is going to be about his story. The unbridled charisma of the star comes in full force in Salaar, and Prithviraj wonderfully sells the reticent but ambitious Varadha. The film is filled with so many important characters that, after a point, we lose track of them. Also, we jump through multiple locations in the film but they barely register. There is the whole familial saga, an almost Game of Thrones-esque fight for the throne of Khansaar. But the biggest sense of dejavu comes from Prashanth’s very own KGF.
Salaar’s Khansaar is just a more populated and more developed Narachi. Shruti Haasan’s Aadhya is just a catalyst of sorts in Salaar, and serves as the replacement of Malavika Avinash from KGF. Mime Gopi’s Bilal is a different version of Anant Nag and Prakash Raj from KGF. The multiple antagonists of Salaar wouldn’t feel out of place in KGF either. The music, the visuals, and the edit pattern are similar too, but they can also be seen as the signature style of Prashanth. And the weapons… well, it is the same, but where Prashanth gets it right is in placing it in the hands of a different person. In KGF, we saw Rocky Bhai first, and Yash later. In Salaar, we know it is a Prabhas vehicle, and unlike the past couple of films, the actor looks comfortable in the front.
But make no mistake, it is Prashanth who firmly plonks himself in the driver’s seat manoeuvering Salaar through cliches, familiarity, and bloody violence.
Five years ago, Prashanth came up with the umpteenth retelling of The Hero’s Journey, and enamoured an unsuspecting audience. This time, the filmmaker takes an audience, comparatively more discerning of his style, on a similar journey. A journey that reminds us of a time when promises were made to be kept. A journey that reminds us of a time when relationships were forged through these dramatic sacrifices. A journey that is unabashed masala cinema, and has the potential to make Gods out of characters, and demi-gods out of superstars. A journey that feeds into the Indian hero’s need to have a God complex. But wait… if it is Prashanth who is orchestrating such a journey for his stories and stars… then who is actually being deified?
Cut to black…
Director: Prashanth Neel
Cast: Prabhas, Prithviraj Sukumaran, Easwari Rao, Shruti Haasan, Sriya Reddy:
Indian cinema heroes have a GoDd complex. This God complex in our films is best enjoyed when it is an accidental occurrence. The heroes don’t know when they will turn into God for the scores of people waiting for a saviour. In Prashanth Neel’s latest, Salaar, a rather inspiring retelling of his debut film, Ugramm, there is a scene where Prabhas’ Deva is built up to be this saviour/God. He doesn’t know who he is going to slay. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t know the repercussions of his singular act. He doesn’t care. But why does he use an axe, a gun, a sword, and a trident to do away with around 25-30 henchmen and their chieftain? Because they dared to lay a hand on a young girl. Now, he cares.
As the bloody rampage comes to a close, an old and weary woman comes hobbling with a walking stick, touches his arm, and says, “I’m just checking if you are real or not…” Deva is not just a God in Salaar… he is a myth, and sometimes these myths cannot be bound by earthly concepts like logic.
Salaar begins with the story of two friends — Deva and Varadha — and how each of them expresses their affection towards each other with an act of sacrifice that belies their age. There is a promise between these friends that results in a bloody violent saga 25 years later.
But just like the film, let’s get back to this later. We first have to see why Deva, who is shown to be a violent man in flashes, is now a docile mechanic based in Assam. We also have to see why his mother (Easwari Rao) is wary of even seeing a plastic knife in his hand. Of course, there are glimpses of his brute strength and potential, and we know he is a ticking time bomb. But when would he explode? It is this buildup that Prashanth gets right. There is not a single soul in the audience who thinks Deva is going to remain a non-violent person, and yet… we stay for the ride. And finally, when the punches fly like cannonballs, the kicks land like a fallen tree, our patience is vindicated.
Prabhas is a monstrous presence in Salaar, and he looks every part a killing juggernaut. While watching him steamroll his way through his adversaries, we hardly feel distracted because the stunt choreography, cinematography (Bhuvan Gowda), music (Ravi Basrur), and editing (Ujjwal) find newer ways to mount similar scenes. One might think there is only so much novelty you can bring to the 73rd stunt sequence. But then, Prashanth finds a way to ensure we are invested even if the happenings are familiar.
Take, for instance, the scene where Deva and Varadha stand side-by-side to defeat an army of rabid drugged-up youngsters. It gives us the feel of suddenly watching a zombie film, and yet, Prashanth uses this as the only scene where we have the two friends actually having a conversation about what happened in the 25 years they were away from each other. There is also this scene where Deva is placed like a God with weapons coming out of various hands. Now, we have seen this imagery many a time in the past, but it is a treat to see how Prashanth envisions this scene. Of course, he might not yet be well-versed in the art of pulling back punches, and reining in the melodrama, but why should he? The formula seems to be working so far. Also, there are some interesting places that I didn’t quite expect the film to go to but before pondering on the nuances we are pulled back into the world of Khansaar.
Although Prithviraj has very little to do in Salaar Part 1: Ceasefire, it is clear that his story is the emotional core of the film. We are shown enough to understand that Part 2 is going to be about his story. The unbridled charisma of the star comes in full force in Salaar, and Prithviraj wonderfully sells the reticent but ambitious Varadha. The film is filled with so many important characters that, after a point, we lose track of them. Also, we jump through multiple locations in the film but they barely register. There is the whole familial saga, an almost Game of Thrones-esque fight for the throne of Khansaar. But the biggest sense of dejavu comes from Prashanth’s very own KGF.
Salaar’s Khansaar is just a more populated and more developed Narachi. Shruti Haasan’s Aadhya is just a catalyst of sorts in Salaar, and serves as the replacement of Malavika Avinash from KGF. Mime Gopi’s Bilal is a different version of Anant Nag and Prakash Raj from KGF. The multiple antagonists of Salaar wouldn’t feel out of place in KGF either. The music, the visuals, and the edit pattern are similar too, but they can also be seen as the signature style of Prashanth. And the weapons… well, it is the same, but where Prashanth gets it right is in placing it in the hands of a different person. In KGF, we saw Rocky Bhai first, and Yash later. In Salaar, we know it is a Prabhas vehicle, and unlike the past couple of films, the actor looks comfortable in the front.
But make no mistake, it is Prashanth who firmly plonks himself in the driver’s seat manoeuvering Salaar through cliches, familiarity, and bloody violence.
Five years ago, Prashanth came up with the umpteenth retelling of The Hero’s Journey, and enamoured an unsuspecting audience. This time, the filmmaker takes an audience, comparatively more discerning of his style, on a similar journey. A journey that reminds us of a time when promises were made to be kept. A journey that reminds us of a time when relationships were forged through these dramatic sacrifices. A journey that is unabashed masala cinema, and has the potential to make Gods out of characters, and demi-gods out of superstars. A journey that feeds into the Indian hero’s need to have a God complex. But wait… if it is Prashanth who is orchestrating such a journey for his stories and stars… then who is actually being deified?
Cut to black…
Director: Prashanth Neel
Cast: Prabhas, Prithviraj Sukumaran, Easwari Rao, Shruti Haasan, Sriya Reddy:
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