Wednesday, June 29, 2022 — 5 Michigan in Color The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com Watch more Telugu movies (and listen to ThyGap!) SMARANI KOMANDURI MiC Columnist Maybe I’m biased, but Telugu films never get the recognition they deserve. Only recently have Telugu films become more readily available in their original language via streaming platforms and screened in theaters worldwide, increasing accessibility. Out of the top 87 highest grossing Indian films to date, the Telugu films that are ranked are “Rangasthalam” (2018) at number 74, “Sarileru Neekevvaru” (2020) at number 60, “Sye Raa Narasimha Reddy” (2019) at number 55, “Ala Vaikunthapurramuloo” (2020) at number 49, “Pushpa: The Rise – Part 1” (2021) at number 23, “Baahubali: The Beginning” (2015) at number 10, “RRR” (2022) at number four and “Baahubali 2: The Conclusion” (2017) sits at number two. Although Telugu films are slowly starting to make their marks on the charts, the Hindi film industry has always dominated popular notions of Indian cinema. Hindi actors and directors are the ones that have wax figures made of them at Madame Tussauds. They’re the ones that get to walk the red carpets, represent film festival panels and strike Hollywood deals. Time after time we’ve witnessed the Hindi film industry take screenplays from the Telugu industry and other South Indian industries, and while the original Telugu screenplays have higher ratings, they’re still not as popular as their Hindi remakes. For example, many Hindi-film fans will know the iconic film “Rowdy Rathore” (2012) and its soundtrack, but many of those same fans would be shocked to find out that it is a remake of the Telugu movie “Vikramarkudu” (2006). The film even uses some of the same songs, just translated into Hindi! While “Vikramarkdu” has a 3.4 out of 5.0 rating on Letterboxd, “Rowdy Rathore” has a 2.3 rating. If you take a peek at that same list of the top 87 highest-grossing Indian movies, you’ll see “Rowdy Rathore” at 87, while the original “Vikramarkudu” is nowhere to be found. Not only are some of the highest- grossing Indian films just Hindi remakes of Telugu screenplays, some of these films go as far as to make fun of South Indian culture altogether. Films like “Ra.One” (2011) and “Chennai Express” (2013) are prime examples of films that stereotype South Indian culture, yet they’re some of the highest-grossing Indian films to date, ranking at number 80 and 19 respectively. So how can I convince you to pay more attention to the Telugu film industry? It’s not a task I can do alone, so I decided to sit down with the hosts of ThyGap Telugu Podcast. The hosts, using the pseudonyms BeingBrut and BogusNoog, review popular Telugu films, using sarcastic and witty humor to make anyone that can understand Telugu laugh until they have tears streaming down their faces. And luckily for you, if you don’t understand Telugu or have Telugu friends willing to translate, they also have an English podcast under the same name, ThyGap, which is just as entertaining. Brut, Bogus and I all feel that the Telugu film industry has the potential of showcasing stories on the same caliber as the Western and Hindi film industries. “Today, the fourth wall of movie- making has been broken,” Brut explained. “You are no (longer) bound by your regional concepts, you’re no (longer) bound by the regional talent. We have the potential of being as good storytellers as the Western (and/or Hindi) movie industry, but we somehow don’t seem to be going in that direction. And the reason that was told before was that the audiences don’t want it.” But did audiences truly not want it? Before streaming services became mainstream, that may have been the case. “There’s a lot more exposure of the Hindi-speaking audience to the Tamil content and Kannada content and Telugu content,” Brut said. Before streaming platforms, it was difficult to find films with subtitles, so unless you understood Telugu, you wouldn’t be able to watch a Telugu movie. But now that subtitles and closed captions are the default on streaming platforms and in theaters, that’s no longer a concern. “We feel like the audiences are ready,” Brut said. We’ve seen Telugu screenwriters reuse Hindi scripts in the past. However, Brut, Bogus and I don’t think that will continue to be the case. We feel that Telugu storytellers are pioneering original content, especially with recent films like “RRR,” sparking conversation about whether this could be a potential Oscar submission from India for “Best Foreign Language Film.” “(The Telugu film industry) just started off, but the road map looks really exciting, is what we can say,” Brut said. “Storytelling is obviously the core of any content making, so a better question to ask is: are there good storytellers now?” Storytelling is an art and a skill in and of itself. We are all storytellers, or at least consume stories via one medium or another. Storytelling allows the Telugu film industry to share cultural experiences, and through those experiences we’re able to learn from and teach each other more about ourselves and the world. Read more at michigandaily.com Beyond the promises of growth MEERA KUMAR MiC Columnist At the farm, I’ve seen plants grow. A few days ago, I smoothed my fingers over thousands of black scallion seeds with a funky smell at the bottom of a glass container; the seeds rolled around in small yet persistent waves of water harvested from a pump on the farm. They stuck to my hands, even as I shook off water droplets. Hiding in my sleeve, under my nails, in between fingers, the yet-to-germinate black particles wouldn’t leave. Suddenly, their weight was noticeable. My coworkers and boss were fascinated by the scallion seeds. “How do they know what to do?” they marveled. “I wish I knew what I was supposed to do next,” another one remarked over their shoulder while we packed the seeds into small cartons of soil, designed to be transplanted once the scallions grow. To be fair, to be stationary and to have a functioning procedure for food and water consumption — which is your main concern for survival — decided before your ancestors’ ancestors were born doesn’t lead to analysis paralysis. To be a plant is to be that and nothing more (or less); they are fragile and ephemeral and feathery, and, yes, they feed and shelter much of the natural and built world. The entire life of the next generation is already written in their seeds before they flutter to the ground, never realizing the exhilarating taste of autonomy, nor the bitter, overwhelming flavor of possibility that makes you forget everything else you came for. In “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” a movie I have seen no less than three times in theaters, the main antagonist is Joy, a Queer Asian American girl with mommy issues. She is influenced by a giant everything bagel black hole of her own creation that inexplicably sucks in those in a tender, desperate state of mind. Joy, who is forced by her mother to always see all of her potential futures in an infinity of alternate timelines, collapses and puts it “all onto a bagel” (also with sesame and poppy seeds) that implodes under its own weight. This creates a dark void that sucks the goodness out of the worlds of those who come close to the bagel, those who cannot bear the unbearable weight of vision, of possibility, of life during late-stage capitalism. The movie shows that to exist in multiple timelines of what “could have been,” to be solely obsessed with countless possibilities, as Mitski and David Byrne sing in “This is a Life” during the end credits, “View of other worlds / From our window sills / With the weight of eternity / At the speed of light” is to fracture the self. But how can a fragmented self glue itself together? How can we scrape off the seeds we’ve longed for, the seeds that stick to us, in a world of extreme connectivity, an age of “opportunity,” with the highest worldwide average wealth recorded in history (adjusted for inflation) and more pretty people than we can process? If anyone can do “anything,” why haven’t we done what we’ve wanted to do? And what am I supposed to do? Read more at michigandaily.com Design by Jennie Vang Design by Reid Graham