“The ordinary is the writer’s richer field. Its unexpectedness, its singularity, its infinite variety afford unending material,” novelist Somerset Maugham famously observed about the inspiration that ordinariness offers for stories. This week’s Telugu film, Crazy Kalyanam, too, turns its attention to an ordinary family in Medak, whose members nearly tear into each other on a daily basis but still manage to stick together.
Not a day goes by without Parvathalu (Naresh) lamenting that his elder daughter deserved a better match than Balraj (Tharun Bhascker). Desperate to make amends and salvage his public reputation, he is now fixated on marrying his younger daughter, Keerthi (Anupama Parameswaran), into a wealthy family.
Keerthi, meanwhile, has other plans. She is preparing for government exams, asserting her need for financial independence to her childhood sweetheart Uday (Akhil Uddemari), while Parvathalu’s ailing mother Veeramma is quietly nudged to pack her bags and spend the rest of the year at her elder son’s house.
Director Badrappa Gajula repeatedly zooms in on the minutiae of their not-so-eventful lives. Veeramma seeks Keerthi’s help to write her name in Telugu. Balraj wakes up embarrassed by his late-night musings. And Parvathalu finds himself torn between funding his mother’s treatment and paying for his daughter’s wedding.
Crazy Kalyanam
Director: Badrappa Gajula
Cast: Naresh, Akhil Uddemari, Tharun Bhascker, Anupama Parameswaran
Runtime: 144 minutes
Story: A young woman pushes back against her conservative father’s determination to marry her off
At the heart of Crazy Kalyanam is this tug-of-war: a father’s desperation to get his daughter married and her determination to live on her own terms. He thinks twice about paying ₹30,000 for her entrance exam preparation but does not bat an eyelid about arranging ₹30 lakh for the wedding. Both are caught in a vicious cycle of conforming to societal norms while fighting to have their way.
The familiar narrative device of using a wedding to tell a family’s story makes the film instantly relatable. Though its simplicity is striking initially, it grows complacent in romanticising the family’s reality. The writing becomes repetitive until Keerthi is suddenly gaslit into agreeing to an alliance. While her conflict with Parvathalu is documented well, the others are left with thin sketches.
Balraj, the good-hearted alcoholic, is given little room to develop, and it is hard to see how his repeated drunken brawls add value. You wish you knew more about Uday’s digital solution for handloom weavers, but he is reduced to the supportive boyfriend. Parvathalu’s elder sister exists only to be held up as a cautionary example.
Even the subplot of Keerthi attending spoken English classes to please her fiancé — a hoot — is abandoned abruptly. The film dwells on toxicity and emotional blackmail without fully exploring Keerthi’s own contradictions.
The filmmaker saves the best for the overlong yet impressive climax, tracing Parvathalu’s moral decline as he goes to any length to organise the wedding. The desperation is underscored by friction among the guests and Keerthi’s disappearance from the venue. Naresh is spectacular here, putting on an act in public while concealing his grief.
In typically old-school fashion, most problems are miraculously resolved towards the end. Characters who have been toxic for much of the film suddenly have a change of heart, while warring family members stand up for each other and realise each other’s worth. Yet, it is a welcome sign that marriage is not presented as the only goalpost in a woman’s life in a Telugu film.
If you can look beyond the writing and editing issues, Naresh and Anupama deserve much of the credit. Naresh brings believability to Parvathalu’s gradual transformation, while Anupama’s spirited portrayal captures the dilemma of a woman caught between professional ambition and marital expectation.
Akhil Uddemari lends easy charm to his brief but significant role. Tharun Bhascker brings an endearing quality to Balraj’s struggle with alcoholism, though the story could have acquired greater depth with a better arc for him. Kireeti, once again, is cast as a bridegroom who exists only to be rejected.
Suresh Bobbili’s songs fare better than the background score. Shyam Dupati’s cinematography embodies the quiet, unhurried rhythm of small-town life, while the dialogues, soundscape and traditions help evoke the region’s cultural landscape.
Crazy Kalyanam has its heart in the right place, capturing the changing dynamics of parenting and women’s autonomy, even if its technique does not always complement its intentions.