‘Laalo – Krishna Sada Sahaayate’ SonyLIV Movie Review - When Devotion Replaces Imagination

Ankit Sakhiya's Laalo–Krishna Sada Sahaayate stands as proof that movies that achieve box-office success don't always turn out to be the ones that advance the cinematic art form. In that respect, I would put this devotional drama in the company of hypermasculine macho films and other hits like Su From So and Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra. That's a pity, considering the behind-the-scenes story—the making of Laalo–Krishna Sada Sahaayate. Sakhiya made his project on a budget of Rs. 50 lakhs, and with the help of a borrowed camera. What's more, the movie initially struggled at the box office, but from the third week it got a significant boost thanks to strong word-of-mouth. Eventually, it earned the honor of being the highest-grossing Gujarati film of all time as well as the first Gujarati film to gross over Rs. 120 crore worldwide. That's no small feat, and it deserves celebration. At the same time, however, one must examine what this means for movies and for the taste of the mass audience.

I do not doubt that Sakhiya strongly believes in this material, which he co-wrote with Krushansh Vaja and Vicky Poornima. It's just that he puts his faith in pop philosophy that comes bearing simplistic, second-rate ideas. Sakhiya is not so different from millions of ordinary people for whom Krishna is a particular kind of image—a particular body wearing a specific costume and makeup (for instance, that peacock feather). When Laalo/Lord Krishna (Shruhad Goswami) appears just before the interval, we see a "divine" shadow behind him, and later he is seen in plain, simple clothes and with, well, a peacock feather. Laalo's gentle smile, voice, tone, and mannerisms are all clichés emerging from the mind of a mediocre imagination—one that seems to be influenced by Akshay Kumar's portrayal in the OMG films.

Krishna is not a body or an individual; Krishna means understanding, awareness, comprehension, and realization. Krishna is anything or anyone who leads you to truth, to greatness, and toward becoming the best version of yourself. To see Krishna as a mythical being with supernatural powers who magically appears to provide help is actually an insult to the legacy and teachings of the real Krishna—the Krishna who revealed himself to Arjun in the Bhagavad Gita. On top of this, the movie uses Laalo and Lalji Dhansukh Parmar "Laalo" (Karan Joshi) to preach broad, simple lessons. Laalo essentially tells Lalji to stop smoking and drinking, leave the bad company of his "friends," and start loving his wife the way he once did. This is the kind of lesson you might get from a well-educated third-grade student. LKSS is not even intellectually rigorous.

The filmmakers, too, create such thinly written characters that it seems as if all Lalji has to do to fix himself is grasp basic moral lessons. What is his family's financial background like? Did Lalji have great career ambitions? What's his level of education? How have his views changed, given that as a rickshaw driver, he travels every day and is exposed to all kinds of people? What did Tulsi (Reeva Rachh) see in Lalji? Where did she first meet him? Apart from her contact with her parents, what else did she sacrifice when she decided to elope with her lover? The movie, alas, only hands out the details strictly required for the plot. This narrow approach leaves the actors looking like puppets. No wonder we don't feel Tulsi's pain and struggles. Sakhiya never allows things to become uncomfortable. Everything is filmed from a safe distance. A corrupt police officer is nothing more than a caricature, and the goons who harass Tulsi are stereotypes that neither exude menace nor threaten to become dangerous individuals (they are casually brushed aside in the end). Even Lalji is treated more as an example case than as a flesh-and-blood human being, which is why you don't work yourself up worrying about his situation the way you do for characters in other films who get trapped in a single location. Lalji is trapped, hurt, and starved, while the men who harass him are dismissed with a mere slap. Don't they have any lessons to learn?

What all this boils down to is the fact that Sakhiya didn't take the bold risks required to advance or reinvent the cinematic art form—unlike the bold risks he took in making this project in the first place. Ultimately, this low-budget drama is not so different from the expensive mainstream studio films that feed substandard stories to the audience. A low budget shouldn't mean low-quality imagination. Many filmmakers have drastically shaped and influenced cinema with little to no budget. Some even made stunning directorial debuts and went on to influence other major filmmakers. Just look at what Jane Schoenbrun achieved with their first film, We're All Going to the World's Fair, and how they masterfully topped themselves with their second feature, I Saw the TV Glow. Even in India, we have directors like Raam Reddy and PS Vinothraj who do amazing, inventive things with the cinematic form, and Reddy's Jugnuma: The Fable is also one of the greatest films of the decade—an astonishing, dazzling achievement.

But filmmakers like Raam Reddy and PS Vinothraj don't get the same coverage or level of recognition that Ankit Sakhiya receives for breaking box-office numbers. And Sakhiya not only received approval from the mass audience but also a thumbs-up from Karan Johar and Vidhu Vinod Chopra. The lesson that LKSS gives—or rather reinforces—is that the more you pander to mass expectations, the less you challenge the audience, and the more you tell them what they want to hear, the more fanfare and acclaim you will receive. The box-office performance of LKSS might be something of a miracle, but given the film's substance, this outcome isn't that surprising at all.

Final Score- [1/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times