‘Chuttu janam, madhyalo manam...’ is a line that Ravi Teja keeps repeating in the film. In several frames, we see at least a hundred people at once. In some scenes, the numbers swell to a couple of thousands. They are seated in auditoriums, standing in groups at a politician’s residence, gathered on streets or just moving in different directions.
‘Nela Ticket’, which becomes Ravi Teja’s moniker in the film since his childhood years, explains how he begins from nowhere and rises in the eyes of common people when he fights for them in his madcap ways; it’s also a metaphor for his crowd-pleasing abilities. Kalyan Krishna Kurasala who’s credited for the story, dialogues and direction perhaps thought the title and the actor’s presence are enough to please the crowds.
The only good thing is, many supporting actors (there are several of them) are referred to by their original first names — Brahmaji, Malvika, Sampath — so that we don’t have to remember who’s who. Aditya Bhupathi’s (Jagapathi Babu) name is uttered so many times so that you don’t forget. Most actors are just there; some are lucky to get a scene or two to make their presence felt. The one actor who might still be wondering what he was doing in the film is Brahmanandam. He’s standing somewhere in the frame or seated at a street corner or in front of a house with an ‘I know it all’ expression and actually doesn’t say anything.
Oh, the story! It had the scope to lend itself into an entertaining ‘mass’ film. The template of an ordinary guy taking up cudgels against a politician isn’t new, but can work. But what you get is a series of convenient sequences — government lands that have been palmed off to private firms are given back to people, elders get their pension dues; in fact anyone can overcome their woes if the hero takes up their cause. These are recurrent tropes in hero-centric mainstream Telugu films, but the way this film deals with it left me in splits.
There’s ample sermonising and mandatory ribald humour when a group of men begin a booze session. Not much can be said about the performances. Jagapati Babu is the only one who gets enough screen time apart from Ravi Teja. Kaumudi makes a mark, while Malvika Sharma looks lost. If she smiles and the camera lingers for a moment longer, we dread the onset of another song! As for the music, it’s tough to believe that it comes from Shakti Kanth Karthick who gave us the wonderful Fidaa .
Nela Ticket is 167 minutes long but seems like a never-ending yarn. We’ve had three films this summer with run times close to three hours and they proved that if there’s a solid story and its well narrated, length isn’t an issue. This one has nothing going for it. Picture this: If A tells B the backstory of who called him and why he came to Hyderabad, the scene cuts back to that conversation and also shows a train pulling into the station. Every little thing is over-explained as though the audience cannot figure it out. No wonder it felt so long and arduous.
Nela Ticket
Cast : Ravi Teja, Malvika Sharma, Kaumudi
Direction : Kalyan Krishna Kurasala
