Nepal: Picture this: you’re basking under the sun scrolling Instagram one lazy winter afternoon, and there it is a clip from a Nepali movie that’s sparked countless memes. A few swipes later, you’re humming a catchy tune from a TikTok trend you swore you wouldn’t get hooked on. Minutes later, you open YouTube to watch the trailer of a film people can’t stop talking about.
This sums up Nepali pop culture in 2024
a whirlwind of viral moments, catchy music, and melodramatic movies that kept
us glued to our screens. Let’s take a look at some of those moments.
The listing is in no order.
Movies: The good, the bad, and the
tearjerkers
Many movies garnered a fuss this year,
but ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ stole the show. Directed by Saroj Paudel, the
film made everyone gather in cinema halls and cry on their way out.
Bijay Baral’s effort, combined with a
melodramatic showcase of the caste struggles, was enough dough for Paudel to
create a feast. Plus, seeing the audience’s reaction on social media played out
in the movie’s favour. Apparently, many of us believe that “If it makes you
cry, it has to be good.” And it was because ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ became
the highest-grossing Nepali film ever, doing a business of over Rs480 million.
Lately, social drama films have been a
trend. Every change in theatres looked like the same film where the poster
design was slightly tweaked. It seems many filmmakers don't look for new ideas;
they look for new social issues. Such films thrive by showing extreme poverty
or suffering of the main protagonist.
‘Boksi Ko Ghar’ is one such movie where
the protagonist’s sorrow and melodrama are over the top. The director,
Sulakshyan Bharati, decided his plot device would be an innocent woman’s
never-ending troubles. She suffered and suffered and died. In the end, the
movie left you feeling empty and enraged.
Despite repeating similar patterns,
movies about social issues did well this year. This means two good things are
happening. First, people are growing weary of societal injustices and want them
addressed. A way to do this is through mainstream movies starring popular
actors. Second, these films have effectively informed people of our country's
social and caste dynamics.
The movie industry is definitely doing
its part to address social issues.
One of the most-anticipated releases of
this year was ‘Chhakka Panja 5’, where actor Deepak Raj Giri became ‘Raja’ for
the fifth time. The team behind the ‘Chhakka Panja’ series have delivered for
many years. But this year, they had more misses than hits. The movie, like
always, leans toward both comedy and social satire. But unlike the previous
projects, the comedy part falls flat. Although the film achieved a huge
commercial success, it has an IMDB rating of 5.6/10. This makes you wonder: how
can a movie be poorly received but still do well?
The Nepali movie industry is known for
producing many average action films, but a couple of such movies this year
proved otherwise. ‘Agastya’ is one such movie. Though long, it is gripping and
ends on a strong note. The visuals are well-shot, and the acting is pretty
good. The other successful movie is ‘12 Gaun’, which ran for a long time in
theatres. The improved action scenes are the film's highlight, but its South
Indian template robs viewers of originality.
Unlike any other films released this
year, ‘Shambhala’ is meditative. It is good even without the masala, glamour,
and songs made for TikTok. Although many viewers deem the movie confusing and
‘too long,’ it is exactly the kind of film we need. The acting, music, and
absorbing story make this movie worthwhile. Indian director Anurag Kashyap and
actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s arrival for the movie's premiere also caused quite
a stir, hyping the movie.
‘Bom Bahadur’ sneaked into the theatres
and, after a few days, left as quietly as it came. The film didn’t even last a
week. Screengrab Via YouTube
‘Behuli from Meghauli’ proved to be a
satisfying watch. Swastima Khadka’s portrayal of a desperate woman in love is
well-executed. However, the movie did become a victim of the audience’s
idiosyncrasies. The very act of going to the theatre, pulling out a phone,
recording the movie and posting it online sounds idiotic, but it happens more
often. It happens so much that one of the producers, Nischal Basnet, took to
social media, saying, “Whoever records the movie on theatre and posts online,
their social accounts will be banned. I want to thank the Cyber Bureau for
supporting this step. It is a request not to steal intellectual property, and
piracy is a crime.” Even the Film Development Board got involved and issued a
warning.
An article (published on Kalakarmi.com)
regarding this particular issue says that these days, ‘TikTok Review’ decides
the fate of the movie maker. This means that once people see the reviews of
movies on TikTok, they decide whether to watch them or not. Quoting this
article, Raj Giri almost sarcastically wrote on Facebook, “If this news is
true, then what will happen to our future?”
Many viewers see this as a good sign
because the public’s review is much more believable to the public.
The other film that came and went this
year is ‘Farki Farki’. After last year’s embarrassing flop, ‘Chhadke 2.0’,
Anmol KC breathed a sigh of relief, as this year’s release wasn’t a total
letdown.
‘Bom Bahadur’ sneaked into the theatres
and, after a few days, left as quietly as it came. The film didn't even last a
week.
Also, many Nepali feature films,
including ‘Gaun Aayeko Bato’ and ‘The Red Suitcase’, went global this year.
Overall, 2024 was good for Nepali films, although we await a fresh and
innovative approach to cinema.
Music: Virals and struggles
If 2024 had a soundtrack, it would be
‘Rukum Maikot’. You could not travel by public transport or scroll social media
without listening to SD Yogi and Shanti Shree Pariyar’s voices. At one point,
it was on global trending on YouTube.
Before this, it was ‘Gorkhe Khukuri’
sung by Nischal Dawadi and Pariyar. Then came, ‘Kasmire Pachhyauri’. Social
media supported these already catchy songs. Undoubtedly, a song’s popularity on
TikTok plays a huge part. Once the song is hit on social platforms, people will
slowly gravitate towards YouTube to listen. Let’s just hope that in this
pursuit, we don’t start making songs just for people to dance on TikTok.
Sajjan Raj Vaidya’s ‘9841’ feels like
summer. While the lyrics may be its weakness, the song carries a nice
vibe. Screengrab Via YouTube
Other numerous hits slowly emerged as
the year went on. Bhupu Pandey’s ‘Pirai Pir’ is a relatable one. The song
describes walking around faking a smile while you fight a hidden turmoil.
Yabesh Thapa’s ‘Kasari’ reminds me of the winter in February when the song kept
appearing on the feed. The other contrasting song that feels like summer is
Sajjan Raj Vaidya’s ‘9841’. Although the lyrics are its weakness, the song
carries a nice vibe. Shades of AP Dhillion’s ‘With You’ keeps oozing out of
this song. Wangden Sherpa’s ‘Tadha Tadha’ (featuring Prajina) carries a similar
summery vibe.
When the ‘Chhakka Panja 5’ release date
neared, they launched ‘Breakup Song’. The comedic approach used here is
refreshing. While there are conflicting views, the song became a huge hit. I
don’t know what’s funny, the song or Deepa Shree Niraula asking, “Which one?”
when she is informed her ex has died.
If you thought we were done, we
weren’t. Sushant KC dropped ‘Bardali’, and its popularity has risen
dramatically. Sometime later, Ekdev Limbu dropped the soothing ‘Jhim Jhimaune
Aankha’. The other soothing song released this year is ‘Udaayo Mann’ from
‘Behuli from Meghauli’.
Despite great music and a vibrant
scene, the industry has unresolved issues.
Some independent artists, Piroo Rana,
Amit Jung, and Abiskar Bikram Gautam, spoke about their struggles and how ‘viral’
songs hurt their sincere efforts. Many struggle to get noticed, with viral
trends dictating what becomes popular.
Besides persisting challenges, the
Nepali music scene had a good year. Music producer Aasis Beats became the first
Nepali to reach number one on Billboard after topping the UK Hip-Hop/R&B
charts with British rapper Central Cee’s song ‘Band4Band’.
Another big moment this year was Sonu
Nigam’s arrival in the valley. The iconic singer, who has voiced many beloved
Bollywood hits, sang for Kathmandu on Wednesday.
However, this year, we lost a gem:
Bhakta Raj Acharya, also known as Bhajan Shiromani. Throughout his career, he
sang 400 songs, including ‘Hajar Sapana Haruko’, ‘Jati Chot Dinchhau’ and ‘Mutu
Jalirahechha’.
If 2024 had a soundtrack, it would be
‘Rukum Maikot’. Screengrab Via YouTube
Memes: A means of expression
Meme season changes every two weeks.
With an infinite loop of content to view online, people keep coming up with new
things to laugh at.
Most memes circulating on Nepali meme
pages are based on what is happening in the country. To understand memes, one
must be aware of recent political and social developments. Memes are also the
public’s way of saying what they feel.
MemeNepal picked up on Nepal’s
deteriorating air quality and pollution through a screengrab from the movie
‘PK’. In it, Aamir Khan sits at a railway station after an explosion, his face
covered in dust, and the meme reads, ‘My white shoes these days.’
Similarly, people fill out the EDV form
seeking employment in the US every year, but only a few are selected. A meme
emerged to express missing out on the lottery.
Many people fill out the EDV form
seeking employment in the US every year, but only a few are selected. Via MemeNepal/Instagram
The meme community struck gold when the
Nepal Premier League (NPL) began. NPL memes were especially targeted at teams
struggling in the tournament. In one of the games, when Lumbini Lions were on
the brink, MemeNepal posted a photo of actor Rajesh Hamal wearing the team’s
jersey.
The meme read, ‘Only person who can
save Lumbini Lions.’
But who can forget that we began 2024
with the ‘What’s that, brother?’? A remix of this meme even made it to Spotify.
I hope this wasn't featured on anyone’s Spotify Wrapped.
However, the ‘Chill Guy’ grabbed the
most attention this year. In it, there is a laid-back dog with hands in his
pocket. This guy doesn’t care about the chaos around him. Why? It is because he
is just a chill guy. Period.
Philip Banks, the creator behind this
meme, wrote on X, “my new character. his whole deal is he's a chill guy that
lowkey doesn't give a (expletive).”
This meme sparked many conversations,
with some saying it is improving men’s mental health. Even El Salvador’s
president, Nayib Bukele, posted the meme on X, announcing that he is just a
chill guy. The dog even made it out of our devices. Someone painted the meme on
a wall in Bangalore, India.
The ‘Chill Guy’ became a popular meme.
Even El Salvador’s president, Nayib Bukele, posted it on X. Via Memeosaa/Instagram
However, Banks, who started it all, has
decided to copyright his creation. According to a story published in the
Hindustan Times, any commercial use of the meme can result in serious legal
action.
All said and done, Nepali pop culture
remained vibrant throughout 2024. Even with countless ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’, the
songs made us groove, movies made us cry, and memes made us laugh. Along with
their entertainment value, the three core elements of popular culture reflected
the public’s
Shanta Nepali is a filmmaker,
entrepreneur, and founder of Shanta Nepali Production.
Alongside her filmmaking career, Nepali
established the Shanta Foundation to empower marginalised women through art and
storytelling. She is also the co-creator of Nepali Female Filmmakers (NFF), an
open community that supports women in filmmaking through workshops, grants, and
opportunities.
She has been to many places, as most of
her filmmaking happens outdoors. This allowed her to work with different
mountaineers and shoot documentaries. She says, “I used to film videos in high
altitudes and climbed a few mountains for work.”
Nepali began her career in journalism,
transitioning from print to radio and eventually to television. In television,
she worked in production rather than in the news, as she felt that her work as
a journalist didn’t have much of an impact. She used to work on the crime beat
as she loved investigations and solving complex cases. As time went on, she
found the work environment to be toxic and abusive. She shares, “I had to work
late and meet different people at odd hours and places. The work environment
was abusive, and there were many instances when people tried to harass me and
take advantage of me.” This led her to choose travel and adventure.
Her first outdoor reporting experience
was in 2009 with a Nepal Tourism Board project in Dhading while working in
Ujyalo FM, promoting new trekking routes and homestays. This trip ignited her
passion for exploring untold stories in Nepal’s remote areas, shifting her focus
from crime to impactful storytelling. She says, “I discovered my passion for
exploring new places, meeting people, and hearing their stories. Instead of
revisiting the same individuals and locations in crime reporting, I found
fulfilment in sharing ordinary people’s heartfelt stories.”
For work, she climbed mountains such as
Chulu Far East (6059 meters in Manang) and Everest’s north side (7,000 meters).
She even ascended to Europe’s highest peak as part of her projects. “When I’m
in the mountains, I reach a different zone and connect with myself
differently,” she explains. But later, she realised she didn’t see her future
in mountain filmmaking due to its high risk and lack of security and
facilities. The risks and physical demands of high-altitude filmmaking—from
frostbite to life-threatening snowstorms—eventually made her step back from
active mountaineering.
One of her harrowing experiences
occurred in 2012 while shooting ‘Destination Nepal’ in Taplejung. While
exploring the Lumba Sumba Pass, her team was trapped by heavy snowfall for four
days. “We lost communication, and our navigation devices failed,” she recalls.
Though they survived, some team members suffered severe frostbite. She feels
scared just thinking about it and says, “We could’ve died if we were trapped
there even for two more days.”
Working as a mountain filmmaker allowed
her to build connections and gain confidence in her ability to lead projects.
Eventually, she started her own production company. She shot travel shows when
such content was rare. This equipped her with an understanding of TV show
production.
Her love for storytelling deepened as
she produced shows like ‘Kripa Unplugged’ and ‘Himalaya Roadies’, where she
learned to manage large teams.
The skills and connections she built in
her early years opened doors to international collaborations with platforms
like National Geographic and Animal Planet. She even directed episodes for a
documentary featuring actor Morgan Freeman.
After ‘Roadies,’ she took on more
individual projects. With years of experience and exposure, she thought it was
time to open a production company, so she started Shanta Nepali Productions in
2017.
Reflecting on her experience with
international platforms, she highlights the contrasting work styles and
mindsets between Nepal and the West. While punctuality and work prioritisation
are key abroad, local context and culture play a significant role in Nepal. She
emphasises the importance of balancing both approaches based on the situation.
Later, she started the Shanta
Foundation in 2022 to empower women filmmakers, especially those from
marginalised communities, through art and storytelling. A certain percentage of
profit made from Shanta Nepali Productions is used in the Shanta Foundation.
The foundation gives an award to a female filmmaker every year through the
Nepal Human Rights Film Festival. It is running on internal funds only at the
present, so they only have limited projects. Nepali says, “We want to do
limited projects that are efficient and have an impact.”
Nepali Female Filmmakers (NFF) is an
open community for female filmmakers which started as a Facebook group. It is a
group of more than 200 women filmmakers at present. It began during the
Covid-19 pandemic and organises script writing courses and training. It even
provides small grants for emerging female filmmakers. It is also an open
platform to share opportunities. Recently, she went to Los Angeles for a
residency organised by Global Media Maker, which provided a small community
grant. Using the grant, she organised a weekly cinematography workshop with
NFF.
As someone from a marginalised
community, Nepali observes that many still live in survival mode, unaware of
the value of sharing their stories. Despite being independent and embracing risks
from a young age, her journey as a filmmaker and journalist in a male-dominated
field has been challenging. She compares it to navigating Kathmandu’s
pothole-filled roads during the rain, requiring constant vigilance to avoid
setbacks while moving forward. She says, “The outcomes that come while working
without expectation give me immense happiness. It led me to start NFF. The
increasing number of women filmmakers and the opportunities focused on them
also make me happy.”
Nepali considers the success of TV
shows like ‘Jaat ko Prashna’ and the upcoming ‘Caste Conversation’ key career
milestones. These shows address caste issues, highlighting the lack of such
discussions in families, schools, and communities. She believes caste
discrimination is a human problem, not just a community issue, and her work
often emphasises the lived experiences of marginalised people, as reflected in
these productions.
She is currently working on her first
feature film and a documentary. In the future, she wants to explore fiction
filmmaking more. Her work has won various awards, including the John B Oakes
Award in 2023. One of her short films, Dhye Dreams, was awarded the best
documentary at KIMFF and the ICIMOD award. It was also awarded the best
documentary at the Nepal-European Film Festival.
Nepali emphasises the importance of
diverse representation in storytelling, saying, “Only people from certain
groups are telling the stories of everyone. This leaves many unable to share
their own experiences. People should be able to tell their own stories or be
included in the storytelling process.”
For aspiring filmmakers, she advises
entering the field only if they are passionate. “This profession demands
confidence, immense commitment, and daily dedication,” she explains. Every day
might look different, but you must consistently work on your craft to refine
your skills.” Nepali also highlights the importance of working smartly rather
than solely on hard work to make meaningful progress in the industry.
On May 10, 2024, 22-year-old Sita Maya
Shrestha, a visually impaired student from Kathmandu now studying in New Delhi,
found herself in a rare situation: fully immersed in a movie theatre. Why rare,
one might question?
For Shrestha, this moment wasn’t just
about watching a biopic of a visually impaired industrialist; it was about
experiencing cinema in a way that she had never been able to in her home, in
Nepal. The key difference? The film featured audio descriptions and closed
captions—technologies still largely absent in Nepali movies, leaving visually
impaired and deaf audiences isolated from mainstream entertainment.
In Nepal, where 2.2 percent of the
population lives with some form of disability according to the 2021 census,
lack of audio description and closed caption in movies and digital content is a
glaring omission.
The census further breaks down the
types of disabilities: 36.7 percent have physical disabilities, 16.88 percent
have low vision, 5.37 percent are blind, 7.85 percent are deaf, 7.87 percent
are hard of hearing, and 1.56 percent are both deaf and blind.
Despite this significant demographic,
the concept of accessibility in Nepal is often limited to physical structures
like ramps and elevators, neglecting the broader needs of those with sensory
impairments.
Shrestha’s experience in New Delhi,
where she watched the biopic Srikanth with the aid of the XL Cinema app, which
provides audio descriptions, contrasted with her experiences in Nepal. Here,
she often had to rely on those seated next to her to describe crucial scenes, a
situation that left her feeling like a burden and eventually drove her away
from theatres.
“For the first time, I didn’t have to
depend on the person next to me to know what was happening,” Shrestha said. “I
could enjoy the movie just like a sighted person. It allowed blind and visually
impaired people to mix with sighted people and participate in discussions.”
The utility of these technologies
extends far beyond personal enjoyment. Audio descriptions (AD) provide verbal
explanations of visual elements during gaps in dialogue, making video content
accessible to those who are blind or have low vision. This technology helps not
only the visually impaired but also those who struggle with focusing on
visuals, understanding explanations, or language barriers.
Closed captions (CC) convert the audio
portion of a video into text, ensuring that individuals who are deaf or hard of
hearing can access entertainment, news, and information.
Sami Lawati, a 20-year-old visually
impaired woman from Kathmandu, has never been to a theatre in Nepal due to the
lack of audio descriptions. “People often wonder why they’re necessary,” she
said. “But with digital and social media trends being visual, and even
educational content being primarily visual, it leaves us feeling excluded,” she
added.
Realising the need, organisations like
Blind Rocks, which have been advocating for inclusive visual content, premiered
a music video with an audio description and closed caption in September 2023 at
Singhadurbar, in the hall of the National Assembly’s Committee of Sustainable
Development and Good Governance. The event, attended by lawmakers, aimed to
sensitise them to the importance of accessible contents, said Lawati, who is a
board member at Blind Rocks.
Audience at the premiere of ‘Sikka’ in
June 2024. Photo: Courtesy of Blind
Rocks
Madhusudhan Ghimire, 23, head of Blind
Rocks’ Talking Video Library, explained their focus on making music videos and
documentaries accessible to the blind and visually impaired through audio description
and to the deaf through closed captions.
“Audio description is new in Nepal,”
Ghimire said. “We started with music videos to raise awareness, especially
inside the government, and aim to make movies accessible, but limited resources
have restricted our efforts to smaller projects.”
Ghimire also emphasised that making
videos accessible with audio descriptions and closed captions benefits
everyone, not just those with disabilities.
He compared it to the vibration feature
on phones, which was initially designed for people with hearing impairments but
is now widely used. “What may seem like an extra function or work for some can
be a basic need for others,” he said.
However, as per Ghimire, despite many
advocacy efforts, including meetings of Blind Rocks with the Film Development
Board, Nepal in March 2024, there has been little progress. “They showed
positive interest and said they would reach out to us soon, but there has been
no response. We need to follow up on the matter as well,” Ghimire said.
The struggle for accessible cinema in
Nepal is not just about entertainment; it’s about rights. Article 14 of Chapter
3 in the ‘Act Relating to Rights of Persons with Disabilities, 2074 (2017)’,
states that people with disabilities have the right to participate in cultural
programmes and services, including television programmes, films, dramas,
theatres, and cinemas, in accessible formats.
Similarly, Article 17 guarantees the
right to information in accessible formats, including electronic broadcasting institutions
providing news and other programmes as specified by the government.
Yet, these rights remain largely
limited to paper. “Despite the provisions mentioned in the Act, the rights are
not being guaranteed on the ground, even from the government’s side,” said
Rahul Chaudhary, a 28-year-old with a hearing disability from Madhesh Province,
Dhanusha.
Chaudhary explained the importance of
closed captions, often confused with subtitles, in providing a complete viewing
experience for the deaf and hard of hearing.
“Closed captions include all audible
information, assuming that the audience cannot hear the audio in the video,”
Chaudhary said. “For example, with subtitles, I won’t know if someone is crying
or sobbing, or if a dog is barking in the background. Closed captions provide
all these necessary details. It may seem insignificant to those who have always
been able to hear, but it’s vital for us.”
Chaudhary also pointed out that many
developed countries, including neighbouring India and China, have incorporated
these features into their visual content.
Screengrab from the accessible music
video ‘Sikka’ produced by Blind Rocks. In the video’s closing scene, people
with and without disabilities moving in a circle in solidarity. Screengrab via YouTube
In China, since the establishment of
the Guangming Cinema project in 2017, over 600 movies with audio descriptions
have been made for theatres serving the visually impaired. In India too, the
Information and Broadcasting Ministry issued a directive in 2019 requiring
audio descriptions and closed captioning in cinemas.
“People often downplay the need for
accessible movies or digital content, suggesting it’s less important than basic
needs like food or shelter,” Chaudhary said, frustrated. “They argue that accessible
roads and transport should be enough. But what about our right to equal
participation in information and entertainment? Why should we settle for basic
accessibility when we deserve the same access as everyone else?”
Even public service announcement (PSAs)
audio/video produced by the government lack audio descriptions and closed
captions. “Has the government considered how effective an earthquake rescue PSA
video would be for visually impaired people without audio descriptions?
Alternative solutions are needed,” Shrestha said.
Sugam Bhattarai, general secretary of
the National Federation of Disabled-Nepal (NFDN) and visually impaired himself
shared that in 2017, NFDN had published a Web Accessibility Guide that aimed to
help web developers create accessible websites.
This guide was endorsed by the
government, with a message from then-director general of the Department of
Information Technology, Birendra Kumar Misra, encouraging its use across
governmental agencies.
Bhattarai does acknowledge some
progress in web accessibility but highlighted that many government websites
remain inaccessible to the disabled. “Improvements like providing headlines and
captions have helped, but issues such as the use of non-Unicode fonts and the
lack of alt text [alternative text] for images persist,” he said.
“Nepal still has a long way to go in
terms of web and digital accessibility. The guidelines for text, websites, and
images are not fully met, and the concerns about audio descriptions and closed
captions for video content and movies have been completely overlooked both by
the government and the entertainment industry,” Bhattarai added.
The 14th edition of Film SouthAsia
(FSA) will be held in Kathmandu from November 21-24, 2024, at Yala Maya Kendra,
Patan Dhoka. This biennial festival showcases 47 South Asian documentaries,
highlighting the region's diverse socio-political and cultural issues.
Nepali filmmakers have a notable
presence this year. ‘Devi’ by Subina Shrestha delves into the struggles of a
Nepali woman against societal norms. Devi, who was arrested during the civil
war and was accused of being a rebel, was subjected to torture and endured the
trauma of rape while in custody.
Tashi Lhazom’s ‘No Monastery No
Village’ captures the complexities of a rural Buddhist community. The
documentary explores the plight of the villagers caught between their deep
devotion to their heritage and the danger of impending floods.
‘Wagging Tale’ by Samagra Shah is a
short documentary about Rupak, who has dedicated his life to caring for street
dogs.
‘No Winter Holidays’ by Rajan Kathet
and Sunir Pandey tells the story of two women in their seventies who were once
married to the same man. They must forget the past and work together to look
after an empty, snowbound village for the whole winter.
In ‘Remnants’ directed by Dhanraj
Barkote, he returns to his remote mountain village in northwestern Nepal, where
he hasn't been for twenty years after losing his parents.
FSA aims to amplify critical South
Asian voices through film, particularly emphasising Nepal's vibrant documentary
scene.
‘12 Gaun’, directed by Biraj Bhatta and
marking Sameer Bhatta's debut as an actor, became one of the most anticipated
Nepali films recently. The buzz surrounding its trailer set high expectations,
and I walked into the theatre eager to see what it had to offer. Unfortunately,
my expectations were not met even though the actors performed well. The movie
felt like a Nepali-dubbed version of a South Indian film, filled with
repetitive plot points and overused tropes.
The story revolves around a secluded
village ruled by the ruthless antagonist, Gajendra (Murali Dhar), who controls
the village with the help of corrupt politicians. The plot bears striking
similarities to the South Indian hit ‘KGF’, with the central conflict focusing
on a couple’s desperate attempt to escape Gajendra’s tyranny for the sake of
their unborn child. When the husband is killed, and the pregnant wife curses
Gajendra, it sets off a revenge arc, but not before the child is gruesomely
murdered in front of the entire village.
Fast-forward 22 years, and we meet the
protagonist Ajay (Sameer Bhatta) in a fight scene straight out of a South
Indian action flick set in Banaras. Ajay saves a woman (Sonu Chandrapal) from
gangsters, and she immediately falls for him—a typical love-at-first-sight
moment, followed by an imaginary love song. The music and lyrics felt cringy,
and again, at the risk of repeating myself, they were heavily influenced by
South Indian cinema.
The film keeps the audience guessing
about Ajay’s true identity, especially since the child was supposedly killed,
allowing viewers to piece together their theories. However, this is the movie's
only real suspense, and even that falls flat. The eventual revelation is neither
shocking nor impactful, as it can be easily predicted long before the truth is
unveiled.
The film introduces another central
character, Arjun (Biraj Bhatta). Initially portrayed as a villain involved in
trafficking, Arjun turns out to be a hero fighting against the crime. This
attempt to highlight social issues like girl trafficking is noble, but it’s
buried under clichéd storytelling and underdeveloped characters.
Although Ajay is presented as the main
protagonist of ‘12 Gaun’, his character frequently overshadows him, leaving the
audience unsure who the story's main hero is. Furthermore, the film centres
heavily on its male protagonists, with the female characters playing minimal
roles. This sidelining of women characters is another echo of South Indian
cinema’s formula, where women often serve as love interests with little impact
on the overall plot. However, the character of Nancy Khadka is on the bold
side, which is new to Nepali cinema.
The movie also features Suleman Shankar
(IKU) as the typical comedic relief character whose sole purpose is to inject
humour between the intense, action-driven sequences. However, like its Indian
inspirations, the humour often feels forced and doesn’t blend well with the
film's overall tone.
The plot is predictable and lacks the
suspense and intrigue to keep audiences engaged. While there are efforts to
create compelling action scenes that are decent compared to the usual Nepali
films, the overall originality needs to be added. The performances of the
actors are praiseworthy. Sameer Bhatta's debut acting is far better than that
of most well-known Nepali actors. On the other hand, the Hindi dialogue
delivered by certain characters felt unnatural and added to the film's
awkwardness. In several scenes, the dialogue seemed to be directly taken from
Hindi films and merely dubbed into Nepali, resulting in a lack of authenticity.
While diverse and new to Nepali cinema,
the movie’s background score directly imitated Indian soundtracks. Though it
matched well with the scenes and added depth, it failed to bring any sense of
novelty. The cinematography, camera angles, and video edits were a step up from
many mainstream Nepali films. Still, they couldn't save the movie from feeling
like a mimicry rather than an original work.
Despite the packed theatre and
excitement surrounding ‘12 Gaun’, it ultimately failed to meet expectations.
While it represents a technical improvement in Nepali cinema, mainly in the
field of action, the overwhelming reliance on South Indian templates and the
lack of a unique voice left much to be desired. Fans of South Indian action
dramas might appreciate this film, but for those looking for something fresh
and innovative in Nepali cinema, ‘12 Gaun’ is a missed opportunity.
In short, the movie did justice to its
action scenes, setting the bar high for other Nepali action movies, but it
falls flat in originality and storytelling. It’s a visually improved film but
suffers from an identity crisis, which makes it feel like just another copycat
rather than a groundbreaking Nepali movie.
Directed by Saroj Paudel, ‘Purna
Bahadurko Sarangi’ is a film teetering on melodrama that could even make the
most demanding audience reach for tissues.
The movie opens up with the daughter
asking her father (Prakash Saput) about her grandfather, Purna Bahadur (Bijay
Baral). As the son recounts his memories, we witness Purna’s life. Set in a
village with a mud house, we meet Purna, often referred to as “Purney” by the
villagers, who earns his livelihood by singing and playing sarangi.
Through singing and playing his Sarangi
Purney, in a musical battle, he wins over his future wife, Batuli (Anajana
Baraili), and marries her, leaving his romantic rival, Harka, jealous. Strong
scenes in the films bring the harsh realities of society to the forefront,
making the audience flinch. Batuli’s family conducting her funeral rites just
because she gets married to someone of another caste portrays the harsh
realities of society.
Years pass, and Batuli gives birth to a
child, Kancha (Swayam KC). I want to take a moment to praise KC’s acting. Even
at such a young age, his performance is impressive and deserves recognition.
Purney wishes the child to follow in his footsteps by playing the Sarangi,
while Batuli does not want her child to make a living out of begging. Purna’s
desire to pass on the Sarangi to his son reflects pride in their heritage and a
resignation from the caste constraints that define their identity.
The film's inciting incident occurs
when Purna’s father dies, and Batuli leaves Purney, taking Kancha to Kathmandu
with Harka in hopes of a better future. Only the son returns to his father. As
an audience, I thought the film would portray Batuli in the typical trope of
villainising women for prioritising and taking bold actions for themselves.
Instead, the movie represents Batuli as a woman who rejects a life of
dependency and degradation and chooses instead to carve a new path for herself
and her son.
Casting Batuli as the female
protagonist, the movie, by adding the nuances of realism in the screenplay,
tries to uncover instances of patriarchy within a typical family household. For
example, Purna is absent from his house during significant occasions, such as
when his wife goes into labour and gives birth.
The scene depicting Batuli’s labour
pain is brilliantly crafted as it portrays that her suffering isn't just from
the physical pain of childbirth but also from the emotional ache of her
husband’s absence during such a crucial moment.
The movie's cinematography is notable
as the camera allows each character’s emotional depth to shine. A scene with
Batuli washing her face and drinking water is presented as a sexual innuendo
hinting at Harkey’s longing to be with her. Similarly, Harkey's henchman’s
teasing remark, “Your weapon isn't sharp enough,” highlights Harkey’s inability
to assert himself both sexually and socially, which further reflects his
failure to win over Batuli.
The language and diction of the movie
are equally powerful, which provokes emotions in the audience to empathise with
the sufferings of the marginalised community. Lines like “Seeudo Bhari Cha Mann
Khali" (The forehead is full, but the heart is empty) depict the emptiness
Batuli felt in her marriage. Similarly, when Purna falls ill, he tells his son,
“Okhati k le kinney, ani parikhcya k le dinchas?" (How will you buy
medicine? and how will you pay for exams?) which perfectly encapsulates the
compounded challenges that marginalised individuals face.
Batuli’s departure from his life
catalyses Purna to make choices that challenge the status quo. For example,
Purna’s decision to send his son to school goes against the norm that children
of his caste should continue the family tradition. Although he receives
criticism from his friends, he is determined to educate his son.
Throughout the storyline, we meet with
characters representing society’s contradictions or lacking full character
development. For instance, the character of the principal of Kancha's school
seems confusing. At times, he supports Purna’s desire to educate his son.
Still, at other times, he opposes him, even throwing away the school shirt
Kancha is wearing, saying, “Kaapi kalam chyaapne bhaneko ta hami ho, teslai
sarangi banjaauna sika hai.” (We are the ones meant to hold notebooks and pens;
teach him to play sarangi)
After the interval, the movie loses its
charm, spoiling what could have been a remarkable film. The plot shifts its
protagonist focus from Purna to his grown-up son, played by Prakash Saput. It
is no wonder that Saput brings his over-the-top melodrama to the movie, which
dilutes the narrative’s initial strength. Kancha excels academically, becoming
a doctor and topping exams, fulfilling Purna’s dream of breaking free from
caste restrictions. However, the movie’s heavy emphasis on the continued
success of Kancha (as he tops his SLC, IAC, and MBBS) to defy caste-based
limitations comes across as a bit unrealistic.
If one has to think practically, how
can a Sarangi player afford to send his son to medical school, even with
relentless hard work? The cost of medical school seemed glossed over in favour
of emotional appeal, raising questions about whether Purna’s hardships were
exaggerated for dramatic effect since such struggles might not be financially
feasible.
Other elements, like Kancha not hearing
from his father for eight months despite the availability of telephones or the
villagers performing the funeral rites of Purna without informing Kancha, test
the limits of realism. Given the strong connection between father and son, it
seems unlikely that Purna would remain in the dark for so long. These narrative
choices might have been intended to heighten the drama but stretched
believability.
With the number of Nepali drama movies
I have watched, one common aspect that unites almost everyone is their
objective to make the audience cry. With this trend, it often seems as if
people judge the quality of a movie with its ability to evoke tears from the
audience. The audience seems to adhere to a similar formula when judging a
movie’s worth. Videos on TikTok, for instance, of people in tears after
watching ‘Purna Bahadurko Sarangi’ showcase this emotional approach, placing
the film on a pedestal of greatness by viewers.
In this sense, ‘Purna Bahadurko
Sarangi’ is a missed opportunity for a more nuanced approach to storytelling
the pain of people belonging to the lower caste. For someone seeking a balanced
narrative, the movie's focus on exaggerating emotions left me frustrated (or
annoyed or vexed).
Apart from this, Bijay Baral,
previously seen in supporting roles, has finally put his acting skills to the
test as the lead character in this film. The movie’s songs are also worthy of
appreciation.
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