'Double Engine' is an unapologetically indie Telugu film
One hopes that it opens up the cinematic landscape for more such films
Watching an Avanti film feels like being at a laid-back gathering with friends. Amidst the casual banter and absurd anecdotes, the atmosphere is familiar and comfortable, occasionally tinged with boredom but never performative. This is the Avanti way – capturing life in its unrefined form. For Rohit Penumatsa and Camp Sasi, the creators of this renegade brand of hyperrealistic Telugu film, there's no more worthy subject for cinema than life's mundanities. In pursuit of their vision, they do things that would be make the average producer balk. They don’t write scripts, fuss over camera angles, or care for heroes and heroines. Their distinctive style has cultivated a cultish following on YouTube, where their work has been published - until now.
In ‘Double Engine’, Rohit & Sasi’s theatrical debut with Waltair Productions (of ‘Pareshan’ fame), they miraculously hold on to their ethos. The narrative follows a group of friends going on a quest to capture the elusive two-headed snake (double engine) in the desolate Telangana countryside. Whether they find the snake is somewhat irrelevant; instead, the film's essence lies in the inner lives of its characters. Danny (Shanth Muni) is an auto driver in the city. Gopi (Ajith Mohan) runs a kirana shop in the village. Mouli (Rohit Narasimha) has racked up debts. There is an air of pathos around them. They fight with a rival gang of equally lost youths over mundane concerns like flexi placements. They get yelled at by their elders. Their lives are a blur of frustrations made bearable only by booze and borrowed fantasies.
The film’s unorthodox compositions do much to establish it's realism. In the opening scenes, we see the city of Hyderabad, but it’s not through conventional shots of the metro train snaking its way against a clear blue sky. We instead see its underbelly - the unsightly concrete pillars, dangling electric wires - the daily view for most commuters. What might be seen as flaws in a mainstream film – blurry shots and tilted frames – are distinctive features that contribute to its authenticity.
Shashank Raghavula’s camera moves with a human touch, observing and participating in the characters' experiences. It stands back and follows Gopi from a distance when he goes on a soul-searching walk. It sidles up to Danny as he and his friends sit around a bonfire and fantasize about spring beds, cigarettes, and girlfriends - what counts as “the good life” for village boys. In an erotic scene, that I would categorize as the film’s “item song”, the camera snatches peeks of a woman’s writhing body like a voyeur - being both covetous but nervous of getting caught.
While there is so much to like about the movie’s non-conformism, at times you wish it extracted more out of its characters and situations. The direction is too lax, too intent on observing rather than manipulating. This yields undeniably authentic performances by Shanth and Ajith. Yet occasionally there is dullness. The film aims to convey the delicate blend of deep pain and shallow pleasures residing in the boys, but we have watched this theme deliver far more emotional punch in scripted movies like ‘Pareshan’ and ‘Balagam’.
The monotony breaks, though, when the screenplay injects cinematic flair. A regular fight scene turns into a showstopper with close-ups of furious faces staged to perfection. A sensual scene gets a whole new dimension with a psychedelic edit, making it practically orgasmic. So, yes, while its hyperrealism keeps it down-to-earth, it's the hyperstaging that makes it memorable - you could say, its this two-headed approach that elevates the film into an exotic creation.
Vivek Sagar’s spellbinding music does more for the emotional resonance of the movie than most anything else. And at times, it is the primary driver of the story. The album’s most heart-rending piece ‘Palletoori Pillagada’, which plays when Gopi leaves his home to go on a grim mission, doesn’t just put voice to his angst but reaches in and consoles him.
I spent much of the movie asking myself the question: what makes Double Engine special enough to make it to the big screen? What’s stopping just anybody from picking up a camera and improvising? What’s holding back any producer with a few lakhs from funding films like this? Well, nothing is. The very arrival of ‘Double Engine’ should be proof enough.
Setting aside Double Engine’s specific merits and flaws, its the fact that an indie film such as this graces the same canvas painted by Pushpas and Bahubalis that is cause for celebration. (Because why should only the multi-crore films lay stake to theatres?). It is, in many ways, a filmmakers film - it cracks open the theatre doors for other unconventional creatives and gives them permission to look beyond the stale stories filling up our Friday mornings.
Admittedly, 'Double Engine' may not cater to the taste of the average Telugu moviegoer. If you've grown up eating pappannam, it's understandable if your first plate of sushi might make you gag. You're allowed to think it's just gummy rice and raw fish. But maybe, just maybe, you still give it a try?