Rao Bahadur Review: Bold, Eccentric, & Deeply Ambitious!

There are films that tell stories, and then there are films that seem determined to completely reinvent the language through which their stories are told. Venkatesh Maha’s Rao Bahadur belongs firmly in the latter category. Running for nearly three hours and blending psychological drama, mystery, dark comedy, magical realism, theatrical performance, satire, music, and social commentary, this is unlike anything I have seen in recent times. It has shades of a stage play, the grandeur and expression of old Indian cinema, and the elaborate construction of a Broadway musical. Yet, somehow, it remains entirely its own thing.

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Set across different periods leading into 1991, Rao Bahadur revolves around Bhuvanam Ramappa Rao Bahadur (Satyadev Kancharana), a wealthy aristocrat whose declining health is accompanied by an increasingly unstable state of mind. A man who once considered himself liberated and progressive gradually becomes consumed by doubt, lineage, ancestry, prejudice, and the voices of generations that came before him. As Ramappa desperately searches for certainty, his enormous ancestral world begins transforming into an extension of his own mind, where reality, hallucination, memory, history, and social conditioning become increasingly difficult to separate.

That description, however, barely explains the experience of watching Rao Bahadur. The basic core of the story could have been presented in a straightforward manner. A filmmaker could simply move from Point A to Point B, establish Ramappa’s suspicion, explore its consequences, and eventually reveal the answers. Venkatesh Maha completely rejects that approach. He redefines and, at times, almost erases conventional storytelling rules to create something elaborate, strange, theatrical, funny, philosophical, and magical.

The film constantly takes detours, but those detours are the point. There are lengthy conversations about doubt, social conditioning, ancestry, aristocracy, colourism, prejudice, history, family, and identity. Characters sit together and talk for extended periods, but the conversations have rhythm and purpose. In that sense, I was occasionally reminded of how Quentin Tarantino allows conversations to become entire cinematic events of their own. Rao Bahadur is obviously operating in a completely different cultural and stylistic space, but there is a similar confidence in allowing dialogue to breathe.

Maha does not seem afraid of a tangent. The film can move away from the immediate narrative, explore an idea through conversation, satire, historical references, a hallucination, or even an elaborate musical sequence, before eventually finding its way back to Ramappa. The fascinating thing is how these seemingly unrelated pieces gradually begin connecting.

This is a film packed with details, where scenes that initially appear strange or disconnected can acquire an entirely different meaning once the larger picture becomes clear. Some moments are unlikely to completely register until the climax and its revelations provide the missing context. In that sense, Rao Bahadur rewards patience. It also feels like the kind of film that could become even richer on a second viewing, when the audience is no longer occupied with figuring out where the story is heading towards.

At its heart, the film is about a supposedly progressive and liberated man gradually being consumed by the very conditioning he believes he has escaped. Ramappa’s transformation is fascinating because the film does not present it as a sudden personality change. We understand the forces operating inside his mind. The voices of ancestry, inherited pride, prejudice, social expectations, and the need for certainty slowly reshape him. This film explores this without turning into a lecture. The message is certainly there, but the film trusts its audience to engage with it rather than repeatedly explaining what they are supposed to think.

One of the most impressive elements is the way Ramappa’s psychological deterioration is visualized. His hallucinations are not treated as conventional horror sequences. Instead, they can become theatrical performances, strange confrontations, absurd comedy, visual metaphors, or musical episodes. One particular musical sequence is among the most creative and things I have seen in recent times.

The entire movie demands a lot from its actors, and Satyadev Kancharana delivers an extraordinary performance as Ramappa. Playing the character across three different phases of his life, young, middle-aged, and old, Satyadev creates clear distinctions without making the transitions feel like simple changes in makeup and costume. He performs with his entire body. His facial expressions, eyes, posture, movements, physical mannerisms, speech patterns, and energy change as Ramappa grows older and psychologically transforms.

This is not a restrained performance, nor should it be. Rao Bahadur operates within a heightened dramatic language inspired partly by the expressive acting traditions of older cinema and theatre. Satyadev understands this gives that character a physical and psychological presence that remains with you after the film ends.

Vikas Muppala is equally impressive as Achari, Ramappa’s closest friend. I had not previously seen Muppala’s work, and he is fantastic here. Achari is given some excellent dialogue, but more importantly, the character has genuine weight within Ramappa’s journey. The friendship between the two men becomes one of the film’s strongest emotional and intellectual foundations. Deepa Thomas also deserves considerable appreciation. Despite not being a native Telugu speaker, she fits naturally into the film’s world. While her performance is dubbed, her lip sync is remarkably convincing, particularly considering the rhythm of the dialogue.

Technically, this film is just as impressive. Production designer Rohan Singh deserves enormous praise for constructing the world of the film. The period recreation is not limited to placing a few antique objects in the background. The sets, interiors, décor, buildings, furniture, surroundings, and everyday objects all contribute to creating a believable journey through different eras.

Costume designer Shilpa G.N.S. makes a significant contribution to the film’s world-building. The costumes, jewellery, accessories, and period-specific details not only distinguish the different timelines but also communicate each character’s personality and social standing. Alongside the production design, hairstyling, makeup, and Kartik Parmar’s cinematography, these elements come together seamlessly to create a rich and immersive visual experience. Smaran Sai’s music is another significant strength. The songs fit naturally within the strange and theatrical nature of the film, while the background score complements its atmosphere beautifully.

Overall, Rao Bahadur is a bold, eccentric, and deeply ambitious film that transforms a relatively simple idea into an elaborate exploration of doubt, ego, ancestry, prejudice, mortality, and social conditioning. Venkatesh Maha refuses to take the conventional route and at 169 minutes, the film demands patience and attention, but its details, performances, technical craftsmanship, and carefully constructed payoffs make the journey worthwhile. Led by a remarkable Satyadev Kancharana, Rao Bahadur is the kind of film that stays in your mind after it ends and may reveal even more of its ideas and intricacies on a second viewing.

‘Rao Bahadur’ Rating – 3.75/5

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