Troy Reimink
Everyone who starts watching “RRR,” the Indian action blockbuster that has become a word-of-mouth sensation since appearing on Netflix last month, likely will have a single moment when resistance evaporates into submission to the joyful ridiculousness of what’s on the screen.
It could be when a man in the jungle fights a tiger and a wolf at the same time.
Or when two men team up to rescue a child from an exploding train car after swinging from either side of a burning bridge, dramatically clasping hands and wordlessly becoming best friends caught in the sweep of history, as India fought for independence from the British Empire.
Or it could be when the two heroes rush into battle together on a horse and a motorcycle before deciding they would be more effectively deadly if one of the men rode on the other’s shoulders with a rifle in each hand.
Perhaps it will be one of the kinetic sequences when characters break into expository song and dance, which happens infrequently enough to make viewers forget that in addition to an action blockbuster, epic bromance, historic melodrama and nationalistic political treatise, we’re also watching a musical.
For me, it was during a battle on the lawn of a colonial estate, when a jaguar lunges at one of the heroes, and he grabs it and acrobatically flings the big cat toward a British officer, whom it not only drags to the ground by his throat, but performs a full somersault before doing so.
All of this, and a great deal more that would sound even sillier when put into words, happens during the three magnificent hours of “RRR.”
We hit play after dinner one night with no idea what to expect and were entranced within minutes.
By the end, we were cheering at every violent dispatchment of a colonial soldier, of which there are a great many, and wondering how the runtime had raced by so quickly.
“RRR,” which stands for “Rise Roar Revolt,” is set in the 1920s in the heart of the resistance against the British, who had colonized India in the 1850s.
Its two protagonists, Bheem (N.T. Rama Rao Jr.) and Ram (Ram Charan), are heavily fictionalized versions of actual revolutionaries in the movement.
They’re played with delirious bravado by Rao and Charan, who are two of the biggest stars of Indian cinema.
Writer/director S.S. Rajamouli is among the nation’s most prominent filmmakers, and “RRR,” the most expensive film ever produced in India, is a great Indian-cinema sampler for neophytes.
Which is not to say it’s a representative one. “RRR” is not, as one might suppose, a product of Bollywood, the arm of India’s vast Hindi-language film industry most recognizable to non-Indian viewers.
The film’s original language is Telugu, and it comes from a branch of Indian cinema nicknamed Tollywood. (The version on Netflix is dubbed from Telugu into Hindi and subtitled in English.)
And it doesn’t take much research into the Indian independence movement to realize the film is more of an “Inglourious Basterds”-style riff on its material than a history lesson.
But what a riff! “RRR” is joyous, masterful filmmaking of the highest pedigree, and its success almost feels timed to rescue American viewers from another dismal blockbuster season.
The biggest U.S. movie the past two weekends has been “Jurassic World: Dominion,” a sloppy effort that turned one of cinema’s most reliably pleasurable experiences — watching dinosaurs eat people — into a dreary slog.
And it’s climbing a list of 2022’s highest-grossing domestic blockbusters whose upper-most entries are all sequels or franchise extensions (led by “Top Gun: Maverick,” “Doctor Strange” and “The Batman”).
So “RRR” has to clear a pretty low freshness threshold to impress jaded moviegoers. Instead of stepping over that line, it approaches the line, grabs a flag off the ground, leaps majestically into the air, does a slow-motion backflip and fires a blazing arrow through its heart.
