Remember grandma stories that started with “Once upon a time, there was a warrior stronger than the entire legion of force put together”? If you saw these narratives through the mind's eye in bright slide-shows, thanks to Uncle Pai and Amar Chitra Katha, the charm of it wouldn't have passed you by. Now multiply your vision by a few hundred times; imperial kingdoms, princes with bulging biceps and rippling muscles, a war of epic proportion both in terms of imagination and execution—it is regal bravado unplugged all the way.
S.S. Rajamouli's mythical lore of Baahubali is gigantic; on a larger-than-life canvas, a relatively simple story gains momentum and dimension with the overpowering visuals. There's no holding back the awe that descends along with the magnificently torrential waterfalls in the opening frame. And it's gratifying to see that Rajamouli holds the reigns of this mammoth film tight, never letting it tumble into gawky scenarios. Although the scenarios confounded geographical details—waterfalls, snowfall and luscious vegetation seem to lock horns with natural proclivities, but frankly, no one cares; for all we know, that's the fabled world the director placed his kingdom in.
The story of Mahendra Baahubali alias Sivudu (Prabhas), the prince protected by his benefactor, the reigning Queen, Sivagami (a blazing Ramya Krishnan), has the flavour and fervour of classic Hindu mythologies; a queen so resolute that she holds the baby up on one hand while she's swimming underneath waters, emblematic of the birth of hope, and a baby glowing in the rays of dawn finding abode with adopted parents draws a parallel with Vasudeva crossing the flooding Yamuna with Krishna to hand him over to Yashoda and Nanda.
The Queen, well versed in rajathanthiram deciding the heir of the kingdom was faintly reminiscent of a more fiesty version of Satyavathy in Mahabharata. The women in the movie are quite the firebrands as well, even though their fieriness and grit is often the protective talisman for the men—a queen battling all odds to protect the heir, the mother going all out to keep her adopted son safe, the spitfire femme fatale in sudden short-sightedness compromising on her ambition when the man charms her. But these are digressive and irrelevant to a movie, the prime focus of which is the consistency of splendour oozing from every frame.
For a movie as eventful as this, it's the movement, pace and the strength of the body that speaks; the act here is largely confined to bodies and the way they emulate. By that count, it's sheer poetry in corporeal terms. Prabhas and Rana Daggubati excel as the princes. Satyaraj rises high above expectations as the loyal soldier, his agility is astounding. Ramya Krishnan holds you by her gaze, a befitting Queen. Tamannah eases in after initial hiccups, but looks grand in Sabu Cyril's palette.
The triumph of the movie lies in its details—the artillery, expansive war zone, military techniques and a smart plot cautiously keeping anachronistic details at bay, elevates the movie from an all-brawn-and-holler flick to a well planned one. What's intriguing though is that the dark skinned warring troop with Kalakeya (Prabhakar) at the helm of things speak an altogether different language with clicks and pops native to African languages. Since no map was drawn out and no one said it was part Dravidian, let's leave that for creative thinkers and linguists.
Baahubali is machismo at its best. And nothing as big has hit the Indian screens before. Each moment in the movie is big and the shrewd direction and screenplay gives the frames the depth it needs. Part one ends on a high note, with the wait for part two extending till 2016. A holler of a watch, Baahubali is the best reason to be at the theatre and it justifies the overused and now undervalued adjective 'awesome'.
Rating: 3.5/5