‘Pottel’ movie review: This right to education story deserved a less melodramatic film FilmyMeet

Yuva Chandra and Ananya in ‘Pottel’

The Telugu film Pottel is not for the faint-hearted. Written and directed by Sahit Mothkuri, the film presents a tale of how education is an essential tool to fight oppression which in turn, can pave the way for better healthcare and lifestyle. Pottel was set in the Vikarabad region of Telangana a few decades ago, but the idea is still relevant. The director’s vision gets ample support from its cast — Yuva Chandra Krishna, Ananya Nagalla, Ajay and the child actors — and the technical team.  Some portions are moving and can make the audience root for a father who goes to great lengths to educate his daughter. However, the narrative is steeped in melodramatic tropes and the repeated violence inflicted on women and children can make for uncomfortable viewing.

The face-off in Pottel is primarily between two characters — Patel (Ajay) who keeps the village under his thumb and uses ritualis, including animal and human sacrifice, in the name of God, and Gangadhar (Yuva Chandra) who sees through his game plan and looks at education as the only way to fight for equality. They are on either side of the spectrum. 

In the opening sequence, the director gives us an idea of Patel’s brutality and Gangadhar summons all his strength to race against time to save his daughter. Patel’s childhood story and the violence he inflicts on Gangadhar at the beginning of the film indicate his characterisation on the lines of mass masala films. The tropes are similar to that of an all-encompassing oppressor driven by his egoistic need for power. The women in Patel’s life are mute sufferers. The village are no better; most of them are painted with a broad brushstroke ; they blindly follow ritualistic beliefs and rarely question Patel.

What sets apart this story of the fight against oppression is how it establishes the importance of education through an incident involving a father and his two sons. If only, even one of them could read the warning sign board near the well, a life could have been saved. The father understands the need for education but little does he know what he is up against. The village has been in the control of the upper-class Patels who bar people from the lower caste from entering the school premises. 

In his narrative, Sahit Mothkuri asserts how change may not happen overnight. It can take a few generations before light appears at the end of the tunnel. Gangadhar is a goatherd but, interestingly, he is the only one who does not give in to herd mentality. Such details perk up the narrative. He also names his daughter Saraswathy even though he is aware of how tough it would be to get her educated against the restrictions imposed by the upper caste. A male goat or ram (pottelu in Telugu) also plays a key part in this story driven by ritualistic practices.

Gangadhar’s fight gathers momentum with support from his wife Bujjiamma (Ananya Nagalla). Early on, I wondered what makes Bujji different from the other women in the village. The backstory unravels gradually.

The film’s strength is its premise on the importance of education, and its weakness is in relying overtly on melodramatic tropes. Men, women and children who dare to raise their voice are repeatedly dealt with an iron fist. When the women are slapped, punched and kicked or when a child is hurled to the ground more than once, it ends up becoming a tool to emotionally manipulate the audience.

There are occasional silver linings. When a school teacher goes through a transformation or when a child reads a pamphlet that has, for long, been a waste paper among the villagers who cannot read, the film shows promise. But it soon veers back to the melodramatic tropes that get tiring. 

Yuva Chandra, Ananya and Ajay are pitch-perfect in their characters and hold the film together. Sekhar Chandra’s music and Monish Bhupathi Raju’s cinematography that captures the arid region and the harsh lifestyle in vivid detail accentuate the narrative.

If Pottel had relied less on amplifying Patel’s brutality and resorted to smarter storytelling, it would have made for a compelling, less explored story from the hinterlands.