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India Today
02-05-2025
- Entertainment
- India Today
Death by a thousand cuts
When Ananth Mahadevan set out to make a straightforward biopic on the 19th century social reformers Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule, the first time it would be told in Hindi, little did he know he'd find himself in hot waters with the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). The board's examining committee came up with a series of amendments, which included changing mentions of Mang, Mahar, Shudra and Kunbi to lower caste and tweaking a line from 'teen hazaar saal puraani' (3,000 years old) to 'kai saal puraani' (going back several years). Mahadevan was taken aback. 'Just today I saw a headline in the Times of India which mentions Kunbis in big bold letters,' he said. 'If you can allow that in other forms of communication, why not cinema?'
Mint
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Mint
‘Phule' review: Too much like textbook history
Writer-director Ananth Narayan Mahadevan bookends his 129-minute biopic on social reformers and educationists Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule with the events of 1897. Poona is devastated by the plague. Savitribai runs across parched land to bring an ailing child to a makeshift medical camp. Before the doctors can pronounce a prognosis, events move back in time to 1848. Savitri was a child bride then, married to the slightly older Jyotirao Phule who, even as a teenager, was progressive enough to want his wife to be educated. This did not sit well with his conservative father (Vinay Pathak). Undeterred, Jyotirao continued to encourage not just his wife, but also the younger village girls, to learn. Now older and more committed, the Phules' egalitarian practices and focus on social reform conflicted with the caste hierarchy of the time. The ire of higher-caste men, enraged that the 'untouchables' were stepping out of their lane, compelled the couple to move away from their family home. Joy Sengupta plays the upper-caste Vinayak, Darsheel Safary is the adopted son Yashwant Phule, and Amit Behl plays the head priest. Sharad Kelkar serves as narrator, giving the staccato screenplay some cohesion. The landed Phule was both businessman and social reformer. The film progresses through key life moments, almost as if visually and dutifully depicting Wikipedia entries for the Phules. From Jyotirao teaching his wife, to setting up schools for girls, taking a stand against widow discrimination, forming the Satyashodhak Samaj, encouraging Savitri and Fatima to become the first female teachers in India, and challenging the caste system—every landmark moment and action is perfunctorily depicted. Add to this a leaden cinematic language and basic storytelling (co-written by Muazzam Beg), which makes Phule feel like a rendition from a history textbook. Phule reads and rereads Thomas Paine's 1791 book Rights of Man. Inspired by the writings, he stokes his own little revolution that includes enrolling Savitri (Patralekhaa) and his friend's sister, Fatima Shaikh (Akshaya Gurav), in a teacher training programme and galvanising barbers to reject age-old oppressive practices. While Fatima is barely given any speaking scenes, we do see Savitri's empowerment and confidence increase. Jyotirao encourages and supports her, and Savitri bravely leans into her agency, even when upper-caste Brahmins humiliate her. Patralekhaa Paul is forceful and spirited in those latter scenes—an energy that is missing from Jyotirao—yet Gandhi interprets this historical character with reverence and solemnity. Mahadevan respectfully enforces Savitri and Jyotirao's rock-solid partnership, their mutual respect, and unfaltering commitment to a greater cause—one that still feels pertinent. First Published: 26 Apr 2025, 04:54 PM IST
The Hindu
25-04-2025
- Entertainment
- The Hindu
‘Phule' movie review: Pratik Gandhi brings home the Mahatma
Bollywood seldom tells stories of Dalit assertion. It mostly sees the marginalised as victims who need the compassion and cover of an upper caste saviour. Perhaps, that's why the inspirational story of Jyotirao (Pratik Gandhi) and Savitribai Phule (Patralekhaa) remained off the radar of commercial filmmakers. Known to pick up challenging subjects, this week, writer-director Ananth Mahadevan turns his lens on the intrepid Maharashtrian couple that challenged the prevailing social order and the upper caste hegemony in the 19th century through education and progressive values, and started a mission against caste and gender discrimination. Unlike last week, when Kesari fictionalised the story of C. Sankaran Nair beyond recognition to cash on some chest-thumping moments, Mahadevan is sedate, largely sticks to the recorded history, and doesn't lend his work an overtly agitative tone. The film opens with a wide-angle shot of the fields of Marigold. Gradually, we discover that Phule gets his surname from the flowers his family grows in the fields granted by the last Peshwa ruler for their floristry services. Flowers are offered to the deities, but the gardener is kept out of the temple. Even his shadow is proscribed. His family and immediate society have accepted it as an order dictated by the scriptures, but Phule stands against the 'middlemen' between the Almighty and man. Inspired by the French Revolution, he quotes from Thomas Paine's 'Rights of Man.' Mahadevan brings to light the hypocrisy, the unspoken vice in religion. The Brahmins want the numerically superior Shudras to take up arms to take on the Colonial power, but don't want them to read, write, or have a voice. Through Savitribai's trusted ally, Fatima, the film also opens a window to the orthodoxy among Muslim men towards girls' education, which is not different from that of Hindu society. The Lords open the education path for them, but to lead them to the Church. A strategist, Phule can see through the divide-and-rule tactics of the British and implores the high priests to set the house in order before taking on the foreign power. Phule (Hindi) Director: Ananth Mahadevan Cast: Pratik Gandhi, Patralekhaa, Vinay Pathak, Joy Sengupta, Amit Behl Runtime: 129 minutes Storyline: The life and times of social reformers Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule, who fought against caste and gender discrimination to create a more equal society Some moments make you chuckle at the conceit of a section of the upper caste. When a group of Brahmins sends men to eliminate Phule, he, laughingly, says that was the first time that Brahmins had spent money on him. When Phule conducts marriage rituals, Brahmins object and seek compensation. Phule asks if they would pay the barber when they shave themselves. The CBFC has muted the tone, but those who could read between the lines will find answers to the Battle of Bhima Koregaon before Phule and B.R Ambedkar's renunciation of the Hindu faith after him. Popular culture has focused so much on Mahatma Gandhi that we have forgotten that the non-violent struggle of the original Mahatma of modern Indian history continues unabated. However, in terms of storytelling and craft, Mahadevan again disappoints. For a large part, the film reads like a visual essay, where each paragraph captures the highlight of their journey. Perhaps, to sidestep the opposition before the release, in a foreword kind of sequence, the film underlines that Phule had some Brahmin supporters and friends before moving to the opposition from the family and society; the Brahmin backlash, Phule's critique of the caste system; dung and stones hurled at Savitribai; providing shelter to pregnant Brahmin widow and so on in a textbook style. You can appreciate the sincerity in Mahadevan and writer Muazzam Beg's storytelling, but it is more educational than immersive. The internal struggle and self-doubt of the protagonists hardly come to the surface, and the ideas of Phule sound more like teachings than lived experiences. One can see the battle to get a well of their own is hard-fought, but you don't feel their thirst for change. Like most historicals, the film makes the mistake of seeing Phule through the prism of today by putting the halo behind him. Despite solid actors like Joy Sengupta and Amit Behl, it appears the Brahmin characters are there to be ridiculed. It means no suspense or surprise awaits us in their journey. However, Pratik finds depth even in this creative flatness to portray the gravity of the struggle. The confident gait, the furrow on the forehead, and the transition to a man who realises that his mission will not be complete in his lifetime, Pratik coalesces different timelines and situations in his malleable frame. The understated ebullience of Patralekhaa feels more like 2025 than 1885, but together, they generate the vibe of a couple that grows from sharing a teacher-student bond to becoming soulmates. Phule is currently running in theatres
Scroll.in
25-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
‘Phule' review: A dull biopic of fiery revolutionaries
Ananth Mahadevan's Phule goes down the list of Key Milestones Associated with the Great Reformer. The Hindi-language Phule, co-written by Mahadevan and Muazzam Beg, dutifully dramatises the inciting events and turning points in the lives of the nineteenth-century activist Jyotirao Phule and his supportive wife, Savitribai. You have Jyotirao (Pratik Gandhi) teaching Savitribai (Patralekhaa) to read and write; the opposition Jyotirao faces from his family for his views; the vicious backlash from Brahmins to Phule's critique of the caste system. The dung and stones hurled on Savitribai; the pregnant Brahmin widow sheltered by the couple; Phule's campaign to persuade barbers to stop tonsuring Brahmin widows; Dalits prevented from drawing water from a well – it's all there in a studious, cursory fashion. A muted colour palette and flute-heavy background score accompany Jyotirao and Savitribai as they move seemingly inexorably from one hard-earned triumph to the next. Against the odds, they educate girls from all castes. Their bond is tested, but also strengthened, by sustained and frequently violent attacks. The parade of events leaves barely any room for an exploration of ideas. Phule's revolutionary critique of Brahmanical values, his analysis of the actual meaning of ossified traditions, his understanding of the caste system – these aspects are largely missing in a 127-minute drama that is as dull as it is dutiful, sincere but stilted too. Phule was better served by Nilesh Jalamkar's Marathi-language biopic Satyashodhak (available on Prime Video) or even the short episode on him in the Bharat Ek Khoj series on Doordarshan. Satyashodhak included Phule's trenchant views on why caste injustice lingers, and who is responsible. Satyashodhak also provided a fuller portrait of Phule's life beyond his activism, such as his work as a contractor. Mahadevan's biopic has a dual focus, revealed in its title. The film is equally about Savitribai, portrayed here as a co-author of Phule's vision. Fatima Sheikh (Akshaya Gurav), who teaches students alongside Savitribai, is a key secondary character. Patralekhaa is more committed to her role than Pratik Gandhi, whose Jyotirao is unusually subdued and flat. The fire is missing from Gandhi's portrayal – an off day for an otherwise gifted actor. The film itself douses the more radical aspects of Phule's singular achievements. Pratik Gandhi is barely present, Patralekhaa marks her attendance more strongly. And so the film trundles on, from one familiar history lesson to the next. Play
News18
25-04-2025
- Entertainment
- News18
Phule Movie Review: Pratik Gandhi And Patralekhaa Lead A Radical Retelling Of India's Caste Resistance
Phule is a powerful and poetic film that chronicles the radical journey of Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule—two visionaries who defied caste, patriarchy, and social orthodoxy. In a nation that has long silenced the stories of those who dared to challenge the caste hegemony, Phule arrives like a long-overdue monsoon—drenched in truth, rich in emotion, and crackling with revolutionary fire. Directed with profound sensitivity by Ananth Mahadevan and brought to life by Pratik Gandhi and Patralekhaa in career-defining performances, Phule is not merely a period drama; it is a poetic manifesto of equality, education and courage. The film opens in the grim shadow of 1897's bubonic plague in Pune, as an aging Savitribai Phule (played by Patralekhaa) tends to the dying and the dispossessed with unwavering compassion. But this present is soon interrupted by a flicker of memory, transporting us to 1848—the year that would ignite a storm. What unfolds is a searing 16-year flashback into the life of a young Jyotirao(played by Pratik Gandhi) and Savitribai, charting their radical journey from defiance to immortality. The flashback pulls us into a time where caste hierarchies weren't just invisible lines drawn by society—they were iron shackles, sanctioned by religion and enforced by centuries of silence. It was an era when Brahminical orthodoxy ruled the social fabric with an iron fist, and patriarchy cast a long, unforgiving shadow over the dreams of women. In this bleak landscape, Phule unfurls like a rebellion in bloom, transporting us into the brave and tumultuous journey of Jyotirao Phule and Savitribai Phule—two souls who chose resistance over resignation. The film gently weaves in glimpses of their early years, showing how, despite their child marriage, Jyotirao—wise beyond his years—chose not to merely be a husband, but a partner in purpose. He taught Savitri to read, to write, and most importantly, to question—a radical act that would become the cornerstone of their shared revolution. Soon, we see the duo conducting clandestine classes for young girls—an underground movement disguised as a school, supported quietly by a few liberal allies from upper castes who hadn't yet let tradition harden their humanity. The scenes of them gently coaxing wary mothers, who equate education with sin and lower castes with impurity, are both tender and tragic. It is here that the film shines—not by preaching, but by holding a mirror to a society that feared the idea of a girl with a book. But change, as history reminds us, does not come unchallenged. As the whispers of their secret school reach the ears of the village elite, the wrath is swift and brutal. Brahmin mobs descend upon the school like a storm of righteous fury—blackening slates, shattering benches, and thrashing Jyotirao in front of the very children he sought to empower. Back home, the battle continues. Govindrao Phule, Jyotirao's father, though himself from a marginalized caste, has internalized the very orthodoxy his son seeks to dismantle. He scoffs at their cause, ridicules Savitri's childlessness, and lashes out in patriarchal disbelief: 'Angrezi school mein padhaya iska ye matlab nahi ki tum apna dharm aur sanskriti bhool jao." To this, Jyotirao offers a reply that simmers with quiet rage: 'Jo gyaan arijit karega woh brahmin keh layega. Maine kia par kya brahmin kehlaya? Dharm aur satya ke marg pe hoon. Maine woh gyaan seekha hai jo humse chhupaya gaya hai." A panchayat is soon summoned—less a council and more a court of condemnation. The Brahmins thunder threats, accuse them of contaminating young minds with Western thought, and remind Jyotirao of his 'place": the son of a gardener who dared to plant seeds of rebellion in a garden meant only for the privileged. The air is thick with warnings and humiliation, but Jyotirao and Savitri, with heads held high, walk away—not defeated, but defiant. With no roof above and no support from their bloodline, the couple leaves their ancestral home. Jyotirao's brother threatens legal action to strip him of his inheritance, to which Jyotirao responds not with meekness, but resolve: he'll take the matter to court instead of the Panchayat. What follows is a cinematic pilgrimage through Maharashtra's dusty heartland, until they arrive at the doorstep of Usman Sheikh and his sister Fatima. Here, a new chapter begins—not just for the Phules, but for Indian history. Usman, a kindred spirit, opens his home and his heart to the cause. Together, they form an unlikely quartet—Hindu, Muslim, man, woman—united by one dream: education without barriers. The narrative expands to showcase seminal milestones in their legacy. Savitribai and Fatima Sheikh—trained under the guidance of American missionary Cynthia Farrar—emerge as India's first female teachers. They establish the Bhidewada school, a radical cradle of learning that grows into a network of 25 institutions with support from British officer Ribbs Jones. But this is no simple victory lap. Every new school opens under threat. Every new girl enrolled is a battle won. The film continues to unravel their many revolutions—the shelter for widows, the fight against child marriage, the mission to reclaim dignity for rape survivors like Kashibai, and finally, the birth of the Satyashodhak Samaj—a social reform movement that sought not just to educate but to liberate. From the outset, Phule pulls no punches in depicting the violent injustices of the caste system. 'Logo ko Jaagrit karna hai"—Jyotirao's mantra pulses through the film like a drumbeat, urging awakening in a society that punishes knowledge with cruelty and love with exile. The film's early scenes are suffused with quiet horror: a girl child being denied education because teaching daughters is 'paap," a friend's wedding where Jyotirao is thrown out for daring to break caste lines, and the cruel reminder that 'untouchability" isn't just a term—it's a daily sentence. The beauty of Phule lies in how it reframes revolution—not as loud spectacle, but as deeply human choices made in moments of quiet conviction. When Savitribai is threatened by an upper-caste man for daring to teach, she does not retreat. She responds with a tight slap across his face—not just figuratively, but literally. She digs a well in her own backyard after women are thrashed for collecting water from public wells. She does not wait for justice; she creates it. Their journey through Maharashtra's hinterlands is marked by breathtaking cinematography—sun-drenched fields, shadowy alleyways, and schoolrooms filled with hope and dust. There's poetry in the realism here, and Mahadevan ensures that the visuals match the emotional heft of the story. Phule excels in its portrayal of education as both weapon and shield. Whether it's Mukta Salve writing the first recorded essay on caste discrimination by a Dalit woman, or young girls asking for libraries, the film transforms the classroom into a battlefield of ideas. The dialogues here are written with fire: 'Gravity kaun sa bal hai? Neeche girane waala!" Jyotirao mocks Brahminical monopoly on religion and resources. Even the oppressors are given layered treatment—when barbers are convinced to stop shaving widows' heads, or when assassins are won over with empathy, the film doesn't preach; it heals. One of the most poignant arcs is that of Kashibai, a widow and rape survivor whom Savitri rescues. Her shelter becomes a sanctuary for society's discarded women, and from that despair, Savitri builds a revolution. 'We'll teach their children, so they never need saving again," she declares. Thematically, Phule draws powerful parallels between India's caste system and global struggles for equality. A striking scene references the French Revolution, with Jyotirao invoking Thomas Paine's 'Rights Of Man' to articulate his vision of a society where 'everyone is equal, with no Pradhan." This universalist streak is reinforced by references to Abraham Lincoln's abolition of slavery and comparisons to George Washington and Martin Luther King, positioning the Phules' struggle as part of a global fight for human dignity. The film's critique of Brahminical hegemony is unflinching, yet it avoids caricature by humanising even its antagonists, such as Jyotirao's father, Govindrao, whose opposition stems from patriarchal duty rather than malice. The film's production design deserves special praise. The authenticity of 19th-century Pune, the costumes, the dialects, and even the tension between Western and traditional education systems are all rendered with meticulous detail. The dialogues are earthy and powerful—never didactic, but always thought-provoking. Mahadevan's directorial vision is complemented by the film's breathtaking cinematography, which captures the rugged beauty of the Maharashtrian hinterlands and the claustrophobic oppression of Pune's caste-ridden society. The journey through the hinterlands, as Jyotirao and Savitribai seek refuge with their friend Usman Sheikh, is a visual poem, with sweeping shots of rolling hills juxtaposed against the couple's precarious existence. The destruction of their underground school by Brahmin enforcers is filmed with visceral intensity, the camera lingering on the shattered slates and trembling children to underscore the stakes of their mission. Pratik Gandhi's portrayal of Jyotirao Phule is nothing short of revelatory. Known for his versatility, Gandhi imbues Jyotirao with a quiet intensity that erupts into fiery resolve when confronting injustice. His eyes convey a kaleidoscope of emotions—pain at the plight of lower-caste people, determination to spark a revolution in a country at the crossroads of a freedom struggle, and unwavering love for Savitribai. His portrayal of the different phases of Jyotirao Phule's life is phenomenal. Patralekhaa, as Savitribai, is the film's beating heart. Her performance is a masterclass in restraint and strength, portraying a woman who defies societal norms with grace and grit. She fully inhabits the role of Savitribai, capturing her strong, feminist, and reformative spirit. The chemistry between Gandhi and Patralekhaa is electric, their shared glances and tender moments depict a partnership rooted in mutual respect and shared ideals. Alexx O'Nell's Ribbs Jones, the British collector, adds a layer of complexity to the narrative. Far from a stereotypical colonial figure, Jones is portrayed as a man grappling with the contradictions of British rule—sympathetic to the Phules' mission yet bound by imperial constraints. O'Nell's understated performance ensures that Jones is neither villain nor saviour, but a catalyst who amplifies the Phules' agency. Other actors—like Darsheel Safary as Yashwant Phule, Vinay Pathak as Govindrao Phule, Joy Sengupta as Vinayak Sengupta, and Sushil Pandey as Babaji Rao Phule, among others—have all played their parts well. Phule is more than a film; it is a testament to the power of courage, compassion, and collective action. By centering the Phules' Satyashodak Samaj and their redefinition of 'Dalit" as a term of pride rather than shame, the film challenges contemporary India to confront its caste and gender inequities. In an era where historical narratives are often co-opted for divisive ends, Phule stands as a beacon of truth and unity. It reminds us that 'Logon ko dharm aur jaati mein ladana bohot aasan hai" (it's easy to make people fight over religion and caste), but true progress lies in keeping 'kranti ki jyot jalaaye rakhna" (the flame of revolution alive), something that remains deeply relevant in today's times. First Published:
