‘Garividi Lakshmi’ movie review: Anandhi leads a compelling biopic

Writer-director Gowri Naidu Jammu’s Telugu debut rides largely on Anandhi and Rag Mayur’s presence, while wrapping a terrific life story within an old-school narrative

Biopics of popular figures are often a viable prospect for storytellers to garner attention. The noise around them provides a good impetus to pull crowds to theatres. Yet cinema becomes a more potent and effective tool to generate awareness when it spotlights an unsung icon. It is equally poetic to look back at a life that deserved a lot more, more so through a modern-day lens.

The life story of Garividi Lakshmi, Srikakulam’s forgotten burra katha artist, is one such gold mine, offering a rich tapestry of emotions that merits the big screen. A gifted voice from the 1990s, Lakshmi accidentally took to stage performances and tasted overnight success. Eventually, the success nearly consumed her and prompted her to withdraw completely from the public eye.

First-time director Gowri Naidu Jammu gives her biopic (named after her, played by Anandhi) a meta-autobiographical touch, unpacking the mysteries of her life through the pursuit of an emerging, indifferent filmmaker. Much like him, viewers discover Garividi Lakshmi’s forgotten glory and riches-to-rags story through various anecdotes that help piece the puzzle together.

The childhood episodes, in which she is raised by a single mother (a godwoman) in a dysfunctional family and married off at 12, only to be betrayed by her husband, define her worldview on relationships. Lakshmi never quite chases validation or fame. From her first brush with burra katha under a guru to her debut stage performance and exponential rise, her journey unfolds strictly on her own terms.

Beneath the saga of love, loss and betrayal that spans decades — serving also as a cautionary tale on sudden fame — it is possible to sense the filmmaker’s fondness for simpler times. When Garividi Lakshmi’s troupe faces rejection from audiences tired of age-old myths and historical stories, they turn to observing the crowds, seeking insight into the songs that envelop everyday life. In an era defined by doomscrolling, what also catches attention in the performances is a spectator’s undivided attention.

Over the course of the story, live performances gradually make way for the cassette era. The decline of burra katha coincides with the rise of recording dance culture and the fetishisation of female performers. Garividi Lakshmi, aware of changing audience tastes and the possibility of becoming obsolete, wears fame lightly, craving only the solace of her on-and-off-stage companion, Satti Babu (Rag Mayur), as she looks to the future.

Lakshmi’s joy comes from the camaraderie she shares with her co-performers and audiences, and the adrenaline rush of holding a mic. When her professional and personal relationships fall apart, none of it makes sense anymore. As unconditional love eludes her, solitude ultimately becomes her only shield from worldly travails.

Yet the narrative, with a heavy Mahanati hangover in its rise-fall-redemption template, turns slightly repetitive as the director constantly paints Lakshmi as a perpetual victim. People come and go, experiences change, but this label remains a constant. The trajectory is compelling, though several characters (apart from Lakshmi and Satti Babu) remain glorified sidekicks, arriving and disappearing conveniently as the plot requires.

While Garividi Lakshmi gets a lot of the cultural specifics around the burra katha tradition and the Srikakulam slang right, the film views the changing winds of the music industry in a conservative light, treating every outsider as a potential threat. The songs take up a chunk of screen time in the first hour, leaving the post-intermission portions to mirror the emotional baggage of the characters.

Crucially, the film’s reverential outlook towards Lakshmi also means that her evolution as a musician, from her formative years to adulthood, is taken for granted. She is treated as a singer with a Midas touch, sans any traces of artistic vulnerability. It is always external factors that play the spoilsport.

Towards the end, the film gives itself a heightened sense of self-importance, with Garividi Lakshmi watching her own biopic unfold on screen and getting her due. The effort is well appreciated, but the film could have done without the indulgence.

Composer Charan Arjun’s rooted album, featuring Garividi Lakshmi’s raw, energetic numbers alongside his own compositions, is the film’s lifeline, lending authenticity to the backdrop. The over-the-top, in-your-face aesthetics leave little room for visual subtlety.

Anandhi lends gravitas to a character subjected to extreme experiences beyond the grasp of her age and who learns life the hard way. However, her jarring styling in the climax is a distraction. Rag Mayur strikes form as Satti Babu, terrific with his diction and character histrionics, never overplaying his opportunistic side.

Raasi, Naresh, Kancherapalem Kishore and Sharanya Pradeep deliver the goods, though their roles are not clearly defined. Srinivas Avasarala makes a mark in a brief cameo.

Garividi Lakshmi limits the appeal of its material with an overly familiar, old-school treatment, but what works is the sheer appeal of the dramatic story and a woman’s indefatigable grit and grace in the face of victory, failure and obscurity.