Maggi Pusthaka Movie Review:
Just like children memorise multiplication tables by repeating numbers until they become familiar, some stories rely on revisiting emotions until they settle into the viewer’s mind. Maggi Pusthaka feels like a film that does not chase novelty as much as it chases feeling, and believes emotion, when piled high enough, can become its own spectacle. Writer-director Harivarasanam Kanakapura’s adaptation of his novel is a drama that feels intentionally old-school in its overall tone, even as its canvas is the pandemic-era classroom and the necessity of a smartphone.
Avani (Ranvee Shekhar) is a bright student caught between aspiration and circumstance. Her world is mapped through small, telling details: a household counting every rupee, a widowed mother (Raksha Gowda) juggling debts and dignity, and the simple yet towering dream of owning a phone so that learning does not remain a luxury. Around her orbit are two sisters, a brother, and a community that shifts between kindness and casual cruelty.
Cast: Ranjan Kasaragod, Ranvee Shekhar, Raksha Gowda, Mysore Ramanand, Meghashree Kannadathi, Raghu Ramanakoppa Girija Lokesh, and Shobhraj
Director: Harivarasanam Kanakapura
The film’s storytelling approach is almost literary in its intent, with multiple narrative strands attempting to form a picture of deprivation and hope. Yet, as with many page-to-screen journeys, not every idea translates with equal ease. The density of the novel is evident in the film’s structure; some portions are well explored, while others feel rushed, as though the film is trying to hold on to too many ideas at once.
The world of education is shown with a mix of warmth and criticism. Online classes flatten hierarchies; there is, as the film points out, no visible difference between the front bench and the last. At the same time, they expose a harsher divide: access. A mother unable to afford a device becomes the emotional centre of the narrative. Avani, played by Ranvee Shekhar, remains the anchor whenever the film returns to her journey. Her need for a phone, her determination to study, and the quiet strength she shows are the aspects that hold attention. These moments hint at the tighter, more affecting film this could have been.
Raksha Gowda delivers a committed performance as the mother, capturing the worry and exhaustion of a parent trying to stay afloat. That said, she appears noticeably young for the role, which slightly affects the believability of the character’s life experience. It is a casting choice that does not derail the film but does create a small disconnect.
Supporting performances, including those by Meghashree Kannadati, Mysuru Ramanand, and Raghu Ramannakoppa, keep the narrative moving without drawing excessive attention. The antagonistic shades within the school system are sketched broadly, sometimes bordering on one note, but they help underline the film’s point about how institutions can overlook the underprivileged.
Technically, the film stays functional. The focus is clearly on message over craft, and while that keeps the storytelling straightforward, it also means the cinematic language rarely rises above the expected. Some scenes run longer than necessary, which makes the pacing uneven.
The film works best as a reminder of a recent past that still feels close, a time when education depended on signal strength and shared screens. It is sincere in what it wants to say, and the performances are honest, but the impact is softened by an over-explained narrative and a tendency to lean on familiar emotional cues instead of sharper observation.