It may be by design or coincidence that the Telugu political satire Martin Luther King, an adaptation of director Madonne Ashwin’s Tamil film Mandela, is releasing in theatres a month before the elections in Telangana. Nevertheless, it is a relevant and timely film. Debut director Puja Kolluru retains the essence of Madonne Ashwin’s story and uses Venkatesh Maha’s screenplay and dialogues rooted in the milieu of Telugu States to remind us that voting is both our right and a privilege. Soaked in humour, the Sampoornesh Babu starrer explores the intersections of politics, caste and class, asserting that even a single vote can be a powerful tool to bring about social change.
To begin with, it is imperative to state that Martin Luther King (MLK) works beautifully, irrespective of whether you have watched Mandela. One aspect that works in favour of this adaptation is the casting of Sampoornesh Babu in the title role. He has that face-in-the-crowd persona required to play this part, just like actor Yogi Babu in the Tamil original.
MLK unravels in a far-flung, arid village that has not witnessed any significant development, thanks to two warring groups that are referred to as Northerners and Southerners. An elderly leader in the village has two wives; he apparently married one woman from each groups to bring some semblance of unity and peace to the village! Decades later, he is withering and watching his two sons — Jagjivan Ram (Naresh) and Lokamanya Tilak (Venkatesh Maha) — continuing the war between the two groups. They may be named after freedom fighters, but they care less about the country or their village. Fights break out over the smallest issues such as who will inaugurate the lone public toilet or who will use it first. Caste pride overrides everything else.
Martin Luther King (Telugu)
MLK does not name the castes and political groups, but the caste and class wars and the social apathy portrayed here can be extrapolated to any part of the country. Only two in the village belong to neither of the groups — the cobbler Smile (Sampoornesh) who has forgotten his real name and is most often beckoned by the villagers with some phrase of insult, and his assistant Bata (Chakradhar). We infer that these two are of a lower caste than the Northern and Southern groups since they always enter people’s homes through the backdoor to complete errands. Their discrimination has been normalised to the extent that neither they nor the village think it is inappropriate. At least Bata shows his disapproval occasionally, Smile doesn’t think much of it. The scene in which both of them stand facing the post office wall, wondering how to enter since it has no back door, is an example of how much discrimination they have faced.
Ashwin Madonne’s story introduces a newcomer in the form of the woman postmaster Vasantha (Sharanya Pradeep), a product of education and progressive thinking. She gives Smile a new name — Martin Luther King. It is a mark of respect to the leader who stood up for the identity and recognition of Black Americans and signifies a new identity for Smile. Smile also gets a voter ID and all of a sudden, his vote is the most coveted since it can swing the elections in the village. From being nameless, he becomes King and the kingmaker.
Puja does not alter the source material much, except giving Smile a different profession, making him a cobbler unlike the hairstylist in the Tamil film. Much of the wit comes from recreating sequences from the original film and yet, it remains sharp thanks to the dialogues and the actors who play the villagers. Many of them are given slight quirks in behaviour and their manner of speaking and none of them strike a false note. They come across as natives of the village who are oblivious to the world at large. Naresh is the only one who looks like he is plucked out of a mainstream film; Maha blends into the village milieu easily.
Satire permeates the narrative, right from the opening scene when a villager uses the torchlight from his mobile phone and thanks ‘digital India’ while looking for a spot to defecate. The adaptation also makes a comment on the forgotten hero, Mahatma Gandhi.
The story does not make Smile a squeaky-clean character. It brings out the grey shades in him when he revels in the benefits of his newly-found privilege, thanks to the Voter ID. For all the injustice meted out to him, he deserves all the freebies. But then, the film is keen on making a larger point about how freebies can make even the most hardworking people lazy. To an extent, Bata remains a voice of reason for Smile. He is similar to Smile in having no real name or identity and enjoys no privilege since he is not of voting age. Sampoornesh Babu and Chakradhar work in sync and put forth true-to-reality portrayals. Sharanya Pradeep is reliable as usual and lets her character shine through.
There are region-specific additions to the adaptation, such as Maha being a fan of Balakrishna and sporting a lion symbol; elsewhere, there are flags in hues of pink, yellow and blue. The dialect variations also add to the characteristics of the Northern and Southern groups, without hindering the immersive quality of the narrative.
In the later portions, music composer Smaran works with tunes that are at times folk-inspired, at times retro filmi and some occasions relies on a solo string instrument to drive home Smile’s helplessness and pathos. Lines from Martin Luther King’s speeches are also used in key segments. Deepak Yaragera’s camera and Rohan Singh’s production design work let us soak in the dusty hues of the village.
Some of the situations in the later half get repetitive but the final segment can make us hopeful, even if briefly, for voter uprising and a collective call for change. A villager keeps stating from time to time, ‘O dhaarundhi’ (there is a way) and Madonne Ashwin’s story shows the way with the power of voting.
