Gangs of Godavari Review: An Occasionally Compelling, Overcooked Gangster Drama

Director: Krishna Chaitanya

Cast: Vishwak Sen, Neha Shetty, Anjali, Nassar

Duration: 146 mins

Available in: Theatres

The ghosts of Sukumar’s Rangasthalam (2018) and Pushpa (2021) loom large over Gangs of Godavari, a crime drama set on the banks of the Godavari. For one, there is the attempt at rootedness: the Godavari yaasa, references to the cultural importance of the river deity, and the fact that the criminal enterprises in this world are built on resources endemic to the region—sand, in this case. Then there’s the world-building: fights take place on trucks carrying smuggled goods, characters are murdered and their bodies float eerily in the river, and illegal money is used to run election campaigns. Anith Madadi’s cinematography makes for several dark and visually striking sequences, and Navin Nooli’s editing is very evocative of his work with Sukumar where we witness characters behaving inexplicably, only for the film to cut back and reveal their motivations. Yuvan Shankar Raja’s score is frequently rousing, even if it gets overbearing in the second half.

This is to say that the elements to make for a compelling crime drama are all in place; the problem, however, is that the writing cannot hold the weight of these elements, far less coalesce them to make something out of them. 

For one, the film’s earnest attempts at crafting Ratnakar, a morally grey protagonist are marred by tedious “mass” sequences which lack spark and inventiveness. It’s refreshing that we see a character whose selfish and vindictive tendencies have real consequences, that they are not whitewashed—but throw in the Pushpa-lite gesture of him smoothing his moustache and calling himself “Tiger”, and a nonsensical mass moment where he sets fire to his own hand, and things get muddled. Vishwak Sen is great in scenes where he’s allowed to have fun with the role, but struggles when the film demands that he rise to the pitch of the script’s empty, vacuous, “mass” moments.

Perhaps the best performance in the film comes from Anjali as Ratnamala, Ratnakar’s mistress, staunchest ally, and the keeper of his conscience. When Ratnakar falls in love with another woman, you expect her to react with envy but she doesn’t—it’s one of those textural touches you wish the film made more time for. (Although what this says about the film’s idea of which woman is “worthy of love” is another conversation entirely). Neha Shetty’s Bujji who plays the actual love interest though, is severely underwritten.

Altogether too much seems to be happening during the two and a half hour running time of Gangs of Godavari—and while some bits of the world-building, some of the mass moments (the interval scene in the police station is a standout), and some of the character moments suggest that this would make for a compelling multi-episode series, there is a fundamental thinness to the writing. In good crime dramas, plot-twists aren’t just gotchas—they reveal new dimensions and depths to characters (think of Jimmie Conway’s betrayal of his friends in Goodfellas or the Joker burning the money pile in The Dark Knight). In Gangs, the twists, turns and convolutions get tedious and redundant because they run out of things to reveal—they’re gimmicks played by inconsistent, plot-driven characters.

That the film atrociously throws in an item song and a rather inconsequential backstory to the protagonist in the latter half, perhaps speaks to the lack of confidence in the writing. What made Pushpa interesting was the depth to which the titular character had been realised—that his rage, ambition, and insecurity was born out of the social ostracisation he faced and how it manifested, even in the “lighter” scenes. In Gangs of Godavari, the writing frequently feels unfocused—interested in creating individual flourishes and manufacturing disconnected “mass” moments—but not in building momentum. Perhaps its biggest merit is the meticulousness with which it details the logistics of these criminal fiefdoms that feed political power, but details alone do not make for good drama.

And yet, this isn’t a bad film or a lazy one — strangely, it is simultaneously overcooked and underwritten. There is enough to recommend it, if only because there’s more effort on display than most Telugu films we’ve seen over the past few months. It’s a strange thing to recommend a film for its promise, but what can one do in a time when promises are hard to come by from the industry.