Phule, directed by Ananth Mahadevan, attempts to trace the life and legacy of the iconic anti-caste reformers Jyotiba and Savitribai Phule. At a time when conversations about social justice and caste equity are louder than ever, this film should have sparked a powerful dialogue. Unfortunately, what we get is a dated and disjointed narrative that lacks the emotional and political weight these figures deserve.
The film opens during the 1897 plague with an aging Savitribai helping an infected person—an oddly incoherent beginning to what should be a gripping story. The narrative then jumps back to 1848 Poona, unfolding in a series of loosely connected flashbacks. From Jyotiba’s English schooling to the couple’s fight for girls’ education, scenes are presented more like bullet points than meaningful cinematic moments.
Writers Muazzam Beg and Ananth Mahadevan seem content with merely recounting events, offering very little depth or introspection. Important ideological foundations—such as Jyotiba’s influence by Thomas Paine—are reduced to bland, overly-scripted exchanges.
Pratik Gandhi and Patralekhaa, playing Jyotiba and Savitribai respectively, deliver performances that feel more reactive than emotionally grounded. Gandhi, known for his compelling portrayals, seems miscast here—largely because the screenplay offers him little to work with. Patralekhaa does what she can, but the character arc is flat, denying her the chance to showcase Savitribai’s fiery passion for reform.
Instead of exploring why Jyotiba became the reformer he was, the film treats him as a ready-made revolutionary. His lived experiences of caste discrimination are either absent or glossed over. The emotional and political transformation we saw in classics like Mahatma Phule (1954) or even Shyam Benegal’s Bharat Ek Khoj episode is nowhere to be found.
By removing references like “3000 years of slavery” or critiques of Manusmriti—allegedly due to CBFC pressure—the film further neuters its own political spine. It claims to honor the Phules but shies away from confronting the systems they fought against.
Visually and tonally, Phule feels like a relic. Despite being produced in the digital age, the film has the look and feel of a middling Doordarshan serial from the 1980s. Bright colors and new actors do little to modernize the stiff, preachy presentation. The reverence becomes suffocating, leaving no room for relatability or radicalism.
Phule is a film that had the chance to ignite critical conversations about caste, feminism, and education. Instead, it opts for a hollow homage that avoids the hard truths and contemporary parallels. In trying to present the Phules as historical icons, it forgets they are also political beacons whose relevance still threatens power structures today.
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