Kubera is a well-intentioned addition to Shekar Kammula's cinematic universe that drags on but never loses its prescient quality, notes Arjun Menon.
Kubera is the latest from director Shekar Kammula, who is known for his social entertainers.
The film is a startling commentary on class, a story of the affluent manipulating the disenfranchised, and how the wrong move by one of the players in the pecking order upends the whole cycle.
Kubera tries to examine two worlds that are mutually exclusive: the affluent and the exploited.
Industrialist Neeraj's (Jim Sarbh) greedy masterplan for a nationwide scheme goes wrong, with fatal consequences to all parties involved.
Deepak (Nagarjuna), a former CBI officer, is put in charge of recruiting a team of beggars to execute a plan that involves a lot of money, ministerial bribes and benami dealings.
The film finds its emotional core in Deva (Dhanush), one of the beggars recruited for the task. But he has a change in heart.
Kubera is not invested in the intricacies of the scam and sets up the stakes of the mega capitalist undertaking that can make or break the economic status quo, obviously with larger implications and bigger players involved.
Deva's journey upsets the plans, and we see Rashmika Mandanna, playing the female lead, who lends support to the proceedings.
Kubera is held together by Nagarjuna and Dhanush, who are given multi-dimensional, well-sketched out parts that elevate the bland social commentary. The problem with Kubera is that the intentions overpower the efficiency of its philosophical musings.
Dhanush effortlessly sidesteps the possibilities of caricaturist impressions and insensitive portrayal of a particular class on screen.
There is not even one false note in his immersive performance.
He bares it all out emotionally for a rapidly evolving arc that sees him glide through emotional turmoil and moral choices.
Nagarjuna gets to revel in a part that requires him to underplay the moral dilemma of a man with a dutiful past, who has long given up the ethical considerations that earlier held him back.
I was frequently reminded of his work in Mahesh Bhatt's 1998 Zakhm, where the performer in him got a showcase for his talent over his larger-than-life screen persona.
Even here, he does not impose his star persona and lends ample support to Dhanush.
Devi Sri Prasad's music and background score understands the story's milieu that unfolds over two economic worlds.
The score jumps back and forth between soaring melodrama and easygoing rhythms of familiarity.
The scenes involving Dhanush and his personal journey have a thematic identity with an uplifting spirit.
Cinematographer Niketh Bommireddy captures the cityscape and the duality of the rich vs poor with a visual that priorities realism over glitz. Kubera thrives in its simplistic touches and never oversteps for narrative sleekness. It reigns in the whole experience from being a tonally jarring experience.
But in between all the high stakes drama and umpteen characters lost in power games, Kubera loses its focus and ends on a bland note.
The film has too much on its mind and the everyday poetry of Kammula's usually observant jabs at societal vices becomes stale with repetition.
Kubera deserves eyeballs for addressing important issues of class, black money distribution and capitalistic overdrive, crushing the faceless ones caught in the middle.
In an age of films dominated by hyper masculine commercial affairs, this is a welcome departure to serious musings on topical issues from the perspective of a hero belonging to the lowest possible demography, never represented in our films.
But the preachy vibes and loud commentary takes away the charm of the trademark 'Kammula' finesse in some points. Still, Kubera is a worthwhile swing from a fascinating film-making voice from mainstream Telugu cinema.
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