My poor eyes are still recovering from the assault they endured last night watching Pushpa 2: The Rule. Sure, the movie had its fair share of eyebrow-raising moments, but the so-called dance numbers Kissik and Peelings made me question my sanity. Maybe watch Oo Antava one more time on YouTube to reverse the damage.
The Tamil and Telugu film industries have come a long way. They are breaking barriers, winning international accolades, and enjoying massive fan followings. However, their choreography seems to be stuck in the past.
Of course, there’s no dearth of inappropriate dances in Bollywood either—take Tripti Dimri’s ‘Mere Mehboob‘ choreography in Vicky Vidya Ka Woh Wala Video. But they’re becoming disturbingly common in Tamil and Telugu films.
It’s a resurgence no one asked for. Processing Devara’s revival of the ‘navel culture’ has been hard enough as is.
Sensory assault
The so-called ‘dance routines’ in Kissik and Peelings are a tragic circus of theatrics, a clumsy mashup of yoga and intimate positions.
Any steps that vaguely resemble dance moves feel recycled—either from Pushpa: The Rise or RRR. Rashmika Mandanna and Allu Arjun’s perfectly synchronised moves in Peelings, for one, gave me serious déjà vu—cue Jr NTR and Ram Charan’s Naatu Naatu.
And don’t even get me started on the hook step of Peelings. If I could, I would delete it from my memory. It’s vulgar, inappropriate and deeply uncomfortable. And watching it in a cinema hall packed with men left a bitter taste in my mouth. Wonderful ideas like these should perhaps remain in drafts.
As far as Kissik is concerned, it doesn’t qualify as dance at all. Because it’s all about gyrating hips and exaggerated pelvic thrusts.
The camera angles, too, seem to have been devised by someone who mistook a dance routine for a peep show. Zooming in on body parts and creating an atmosphere of voyeurism is not only distasteful but entirely unnecessary.
If director Sukumar aimed to recreate the magic of Samantha Ruth Prabhu’s Oo Antava, then he lost the plot miserably. It’s not nearly as bold, beautiful, electrifying and sensuous. More like a cringe-fest that’s hard to sit through. Sreeleela’s look might resemble Samantha Ruth Prabhu’s, but she doesn’t come close to delivering the magic.
Don’t bank on sensationalism
Pushpa 1 chartbusters, such as Saami Saami and Oo Antava, set high expectations for the sequel. And they crashed and burned.
Can we blame the audience for expecting something decent? The makers took three years to make a sequel and came up with this. The two dance numbers don’t just insult choreography; they actively condition people into believing that vulgarity equals entertainment.
It’s not just degrading dance—it’s dumbing down viewers too.
Sensationalism isn’t a long-term strategy. Tossing in barely-there outfits and sexualised dance moves might grab attention, but only for a short while.
Allu Arjun’s expressions are the only saving grace in Kissik—though they also feel like leftovers from Pushpa 1. The man deserves better material than this.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Zoya Bhatti)
Depravity and sleaze rules south Indian film industries. And it should not come as a surprise. For long, these film industries have survived solely on churning out soft porn movies – Silk Smitha being the primary example.
As a result, the south Indian film aesthetic has developed along these lines only. Unfortunately, the same gets reflected in modern south Indian films.
The heroes look like street urchins. Even the homeless poor in India have a better sense of “style” than these actors. About the dances – the less said the better. Basically meant to titillate the men and draw them into theatres.
Times have changed but the south Indian film industry pyche remains stuck in the past.
“magic of Oo Antava”? Are you serious?
Just the other day The Print carried a brilliant article on the dancing girls of Bihar – how they are exploited and used by the rural masses.
Wish to know what inspires the rural masses to indulge in shameless acts of depravity? It’s the trend set by Bollywood and other film industries. The “item numbers” are the inspiration for such vulgar dances and songs which, very unfortunately, have become a part of rural life now.
Of course, the rural peasant cannot afford to have an actress like Samantha Ruth Prabhu dance for them. Hence, they make do with what is available – the poor and vulnerable girls.
One would hope that respectable media outlets like The Print would stop glorifying such sleazy “item numbers”.
There was no “magic” in Samantha Ruth Prabhu’s Oo Antava. It was pure sleaze, outright sexual titillation – a shameless appeal to the base instincts of the male audience. And yes, it worked. Men, in droves, watched the entire film solely for the depravity of Oo Antava.
It’s hard to understand how soft porn, no matter how successful in the box office, passes off as “magic”.