Kantara, A Legend, Chapter 1: All’s well that ends in a Well

Kantara, A Legend, Chapter 1: All’s well that ends in a Well

How many times can you scream out long war-cries in a film that is 168 minutes long? Theoretically, maybe around 2,520 times. Kantara, A Legend, Chapter 1 does not clock anywhere near that number, hovering, most probably, around a mere 252 times. That shows consideration and sympathy for your tympanic membranes, aka ear-drums. In between, it lets out a barrage of voice overs, dubbed dialogue (I saw the Hindustani version of this Kannada original), songs, background music and sound effects, many of which overlap or run concurrently, and some of which try to outdo the intensity of the war-cries. Mercifully, the film is low on body, and body part, count, by comparison with other films of its ilk, and unlike many of the other representative films of the ‘epic mythological battles between humans with varying super-powers’ genre, it comes up with at least two home-truths: Even good-at-heart humans are susceptible to the greed of stripping forests of their riches, and the greed for acquiring more land, using the might-is-right approach, can be agnostic and all pervasive. To that extent, the film is different from the spate of its block-buster cousins from the South, and somewhat redeems itself.

Like most kings of his times, the king of Bangra (I first heard it ass Bandra, the suburb of Mumbai where I live!) orders the execution of a fisherman, only to find a pouch of precious spices in his possession. This sparks his desire to conquer a Hindu God’s Madhuban, a forest established by Goddess Parvati, within the large Kantara forest. When he enters the forest, the guardian ‘daivas’ (derived from ‘dev’; godly humans) Panjurli and Guliga, use their divine power and kill him for his transgression. His young son, Vijayendra, however, is spared. Traumatised by his father’s death, he grows-up to become the new king, and decrees that no one from his kingdom should enter the Kantara forest. Vijayendra fathers two children: Kulashekhara, who develops into a reckless and indulgent adult, loving là dolce vita, and Princess Kanakavathi, who is a silent schemer.

Inside the Kantara village, a dry well holds a secret. A young boy, believed to be born of divine will, is found inside the well, and adopted by a tribal woman, who names him Berme. Kulashekhara ventures into the wild, on a hunting trip, and reaches the border of Kantara. There, his army is attacked by the locals, and many are killed. One Minister, Chenna, survives, and from him, the Kantarians learn about the Bangra kingdom and its power. They convince him to change sides, and decide to infiltrate the kingdom, disguised as Bangra soldiers, using the costumes of the dead Bangra army-men. Once inside, they discover that traders of Bangra steal the precious herbs of Kantara, which are left at the border by the Kantarians, who divide their harvests into three: one for their gods, one for themselves and one placed at the borders, for any outsiders.

Berme and his tribe discover that the spices from the Kantara forest are being exploited by the kingdom through barter trade with Portuguese and Arab traders. They are all found out, arrested and jailed. Incarcerated, they are subjected to whipping and other forms of torture, but they take it in their stride. Ultimately, they manage to escape, on a gigantic chariot. As a tribe in no contact with civilisation and progress, the Kantarians were not aware of commercial agriculture and international trade. Having seen it with their own eyes, in Bangra, the tribals, led by Berme, decide to cultivate and trade spices, on their own terms, using the Bangra port, to empower his people financially. By this time, King Vijayendra has appointed his son, Kulashekhara, as his successor. When he learns about the forays into his home turf by the Kantarians, he sends his Chief Minister, Bhogendra, to flush them out. The party comes back, badly mauled, without making any impression on the Kantaraians whatsoever. Princess Kanakavathi then steps in, and tries to seduce Berme, without success. Kulashekhara retaliates with a brutal attack on Berme’s village, setting it on fire, and slitting the throat of Berme’s foster mother. This heinous act ignites divine intervention, as the protector spirit, Guliga, emerges from the sacred well, to possess Berme. Empowered, Berme kills Kulashekhara. Now, the Kantaraians will have to contend with the revenge of Vijayendra and Kanakavathi.

With dozens of important characters, writer Rishab Shetty weaves a complex plot. Hindu mythology is filled with instances of evil rakshasas, asuras and power-hungry humans, who meditate, perform rituals, offer sacrifices and spare nothing, to earn favours from the Gods. Once they obtain divine blessings and supra human powers, they set out to match, fight and eliminate the good, who, too, are blessed with similar or comparable supremacies. Thus, the fights between the two sides has been raging for thousands, perhaps millions of years. There are countless tomes recorded about these exploits, and Shetty must have tapped into them, liberally. What a film script can do to these tales is give them context, characters, situations, twists, confrontation points and dialogue. And then come things like creating dramatic scenes and believable (all audiences suspend disbelief when they go to watch films; some go one step ahead and believe that what is happening on the screen could have actually happened in history), characters locations, casting, sets, stunts, choreographed action, cinematography, music and 21st century technology. He has done a good job on all these fronts, overall. Yet, he could have done better.

It is difficult to keep track of the goings on when so many sides and so many characters are involved. Even remembering names of some of the core characters is a task in itself. There are the Kantaraians, the Bangraites, the adivasis, the righteous gods and the evil deities. There are animals too, of varying sizes and shapes, including a Plus 4 sized tiger, a white horse and tiny simians, who attack in hordes. When the white horse runs amuck, it is only to be expected that Berme will jump on him and tame him. The tiger is used in phases, and is not given its due. On one occasion, it darts across at the village crowd, running helter-skelter, till it reaches Berme, and gives him a cold stare. It is no ordinary stare, for it gives Berme’s pupils the same red ring that is seen in the tiger’s eyes, which is a sort of transfer of high-octane. When Berme is clueless about what to do next, he hears that the river Ganga (Ganges) will lead him to his destination. Instead, he is led by the Ganga to a spot where he encounters a being that is Shetty’s tribute to the Incredible Hulk, a Marvel comics creation. Mr. Hulk would have made mince-meat out of Berme, had not Lord Shiva intervened. Are the Kantarians so gullible that first they let treacherous adivasis take shelter in their village, who then take them for a royal ride and kill their children and animals, and then they are fooled by the Bangraites’s fake attempts at repenting for their sins and calling a truce?

It is a welcome relief to see some humour infused into the violent proceedings. Kulashekhara’s insistence on having music playing all the time, whatever be the circumstance, is funny in itself, being a case of Nero fiddling while Rome was burning. While the scene where Kulashekhara gets misled into breaking into a song is really funny, the double entendre and risqué dialogue in some other sequences could have been avoided. Berme getting enticed, and almost seduced, by Kanakavathi, is out of character. When the threats of Kulashekhara, Kanakavathi and Vijayendra are neutralised, the audience senses the end of the film. Far from it. At least half-an-hour far from it. Both, the writer and the director, in Rishab Shetty, would have been better served to end the film there, and continue the epic in another edition. But he gets carried away, and formulates the basis of an unnecessary extension, thereby diluting the impact of the movie at hand. We think that the tale would end after this, the second finalé, but there is an end credits scene which tells you that Shetty is seized of another Kantara escapade.

Acting largely consists of screaming at the top of the voice, grimacing, crying, wailing and vibrating the body, trembling like a leaf, to chants and rituals, as far as the Kantarians and adivasis go. The royalty, Vijayendra, Kulashekhara and Kanakavathi, do get just about required footage, but their personae deserved to be better delineated. Rishabh Shetty is all over the place, whether on ground or in the air. He is above all, by leaps and bounds (not a metaphor). His large face, berd, large mop of hair, highly expressive eyes, his performance of deadly stunts and his get-up, go well with what one would imagine Berme to be like. Jayaram as King Rajashekhara performs well. Rukmini Vasanth as Princess Kanakavathi is not the romantic interest of Berme. In fact, she is not a heroine at all. Considering this negative streak, she makes the most of it.

Gulshan Devaiah as Kulashekhara is a welcome sight, and deserved much more than the footage he was allotted. Pramod Shetty as Bhogendra, is as decadent as minions and ministers come. Prakash Thuminad as Chenna, and Deepak Rai Panaje as Sankappa, have important roles, and are the source of much-needed comic and witty relief.

Granted that such spectacular vehicles are really made in post-production, they have to have the right images for reference. So, kudos to cinematographer Arvind S. Kashyap. Editor Suresh Mallaiah must have been spoiled for choice, with so many thrills to choose from. How many of them to include and how much of each to retain? His choices have been good, but his cuts could have been better. Music by B. Ajaneesh Loknath gives the film a strong theme ballad, and a couple of songs. The songs, however, have little chance of getting popular outside the film.

Not as gory as one might expect, the film is just about watchable. Ascribing to the classical narrative film theory of organic unity, the story of Kantara, A Legend, Chapter 1, begins with a baby (not a pussy) in the well, and ends, too, in the enchanted well.

Rating: ** ½

Trailer: https://youtu.be/M2OnifMgvps