If there’s one common vice that the young generation is often accused of, it’s their obsession with mobile phones. The theory that those little rectangles are making us more disconnected from our people and surroundings is often delivered as a sermon to the adolescents. During the Covid lockdown, however, all of us found ourselves glued to our phones, one way or another. For some, it was an escape from reality. For others, it was a desperate attempt to reach out to the real world.
It is in this context that writer-director Ananth Vardhan’s Sopathulu stands out. It captures a relationship, a sweet little bond where a mobile phone doesn’t merely remain a peer-pressure-driven desire but becomes a necessity, as the only bridge to communication. The stakes are high in Sopathulu that way, where the alternative to a mobile phone is loneliness and despair.
However, there are no grand statements or any overt commentary on the socio-political affairs in Sopathulu. Fortunately, it remains a simple and heartfelt attempt to capture ordinary lives in a village. The main conflict kicks in after the world comes to a standstill due to the pandemic lockdown, bringing the friendship between the two protagonists, Chintu (Bhanu Prakash) and Guddu (Srujan), to a halt. Ananth Vardhan stages the film as primarily a story of the two boys, who are compelled to find different ways to stay connected during lockdown before gradually making space for the people around them, all of whom have their concerns and desires.
There are two worlds in Sopathulu—one of the adults and the other of children—and Ananth Vardhan makes us care for both. While the adults are worried about making ends meet, paying off debts and cautiously making plans to go for greener pastures, the kids have their little woes. For instance, in a relatably funny moment, Chintu goes to a grocery store right after waking up at the behest of his mother, only to forget whether he is supposed to buy wheat flour or cracked wheat. Guddu has slightly bigger problems, though.
Even as his family struggles to stay afloat, Guddu needs to stay in touch with Chintu, his only friend in life. While trying to connect with his bestie, Guddu befriends a young professional who just wants 15 minutes to smoke in peace every day but gradually becomes somewhat of an elder brother to him.
On the other hand, living with his brother Chintu is Raju (Mani Aegurla), a young, unemployed boy who doesn’t have much to hang on, besides a faint ambition to go to Hyderabad and make something of himself. When he is not facing taunts at his home, Raju is busy nurturing a relationship with a neighbourhood girl, Malli (Anusha Ramesh), a friendship that evolves over many purchases of soft drinks.
When we first meet Raju, he is slyly taking Malli’s pictures—and even though we later come to see Raju as a boy free of malice or free intentions, his problematic behaviour comes back to punish him at the most unexpected moment. The two characters are also part of one of the most poignant sequences in the film, where the joy of a simple mundane activity like having a quiet photo shoot by the lakeside is followed by an altercation with the law, something that could instantly malign your reputation and change the course of your lives.
While that doesn’t happen, the relationship between Raju and Malli undergoes a drastic shift. The director raises the stakes, only to go back to the personal. Nothing much changes in Raju’s life except his plans to go to Hyderabad which now come from a place of greater vulnerability and urgency. Also, Chintu and Raju are barely seen interacting in the early parts of the film.
And yet, when the two have a heart-to-heart conversation towards the end, it rings perfectly true. The film also subtly works in its core theme here without making a huge fuss about it. How we spend our formative years is what shapes our personalities, sensibilities, and the way we seek friendships. It’s this slice-of-life element that makes Sopathulu such an endearing watch.
Srujan and Bhanu Prakash perform their roles with utmost sincerity. There is a particular vulnerability to Bhanu Prakash, in particular, where his mannerisms and body language give impressions of a kid who is already on his way to adolescence.
What also lends the film its sense of beauty is Satish S Muthyala’s cinematography, which understands the importance of stillness for narratives like this. Every frame seems carefully designed, and despite its evident set of production constraints, Sopathulu never feels compromised as a film of visual artistry. (Special mention to the score by Sinjith Yerramilli that’s in great sync with the film’s evocative and idyllic beauty.)
In a lovely touch, the film begins with the visuals of two chicks, blue and yellow, and ends with the two having grown into a pair of white chickens. They have finally come into their own, shedding off dye colours. Guddu refuses to believe the theory, but Chintu convinces him only after confirming it from Raju. That’s as neat a poetic touch for a coming-of-age tale as there can be, and like many other moments in the film, it arrives unassumingly, pulls at our heartstrings, and goes away.