One could argue: making a biopic in Hindi cinema these days is a lost battle even before one begins. Such is our legal system, our near-Olympic status at taking offence as a society, the cumbersome process of obtaining life-rights, and the patronising tone filmmakers adopt to turn someone’s life story into a moral science lesson (or they won’t get it). It’s no surprise then that most biopics coming out of Hindi cinema re-manufacture a stale, reverential tone with intermittent cues of inspirational music – so much so that my brain almost involuntarily switches off during such sequences these days. And god forbid if the film has the slightest socio-political criticism. Then the headache of battling the CBFC (censor board), with the livelihoods of hundreds of crew members being on the line – it’s no surprise why nearly every filmmaker is cautious, even if the film is set around characters who took on Brahmanical patriarchy more than a century ago. I didn’t know what to expect from Ananth Mahadevan’s Phule, a film chronicling the lives of anti-caste reformers Jotirao and Savitribai Phule for over five decades. Especially after it was subjected to modifications by the CBFC – which seemed only too eager to accommodate the complaints of Brahmin groups taking offence to references in the film’s trailer. Is it fair to criticise a diluted version of a film, knowing it’s not entirely as intended by the director? Also, if we’re being fair, can Mahadevan be as caustic in his critique of sanatani brahmins like Shyam Benegal was in his episode on the Phules in his Doordarshan series, Bharat Ek Khoj? And can he expect to get out alive in this day and age? Obviously, it was going to be watered-down.Phule makes one startling assertion that made me sit up in my chair. In its closing moments, a voiceover contends that caste-based discrimination is coming to an end. I wondered what Dalit academics and activists would have to say. Given how rarely the mainstream discusses caste oppression, usually adopting a top-down gaze, was this assertion demanded by the CBFC? Or was it the filmmaker’s actual belief? Mahadevan – a Brahmin himself, as he has said in interviews – risks looking silly at best, or at worst appears to be painting a deluded Brahminical fantasy. Especially if one reads the news every other day. Unsurprisingly, no data is cited along with the statement, which appears to be a wish birthed out of thin air. It colours the film unfavourably, making it that much harder to look at its (few) positive traits. Starting off in 1897, when Poona (modern-day Pune) is afflicted with bubonic plague, we see Savitribai Phule (Patralekhaa) running with a sick child on her back. It’s a selfless act, one that could be portrayed even without the thumping background score, and it would still register as heroic. But then this scene pretty much sets up the rest of the film. Phule looks at the couple from 1838 till the late 1800s – their physicality barely changing, except for the greys becoming prominent. Pratik Gandhi is serviceable as Jotirao Phule. Effortlessly switching between Marathi, Hindi and English, Gandhi is someone who can sell sincerity like few others can. On the other hand, Patralekhaa sounds like someone privy to the #GirlBoss discourse, while enacting Savitribai. I’m all for irreverence and an anachronistic style of speaking, but there’s surely a line of believability between a Marathi woman speaking in the 1800s and someone speaking in 2025. We should be able to tell the difference with only our ears. Patralekhaa plays it too straight – and Savitribai ends up sounding like a feminist heroine played by Taapsee Pannu or Anushka Sharma.Also read: I Don’t Agree With the Modifications the Censors Made to My Film on Phule: Ananth MahadevanMahadevan also seems content in bringing out the most perfunctory traits of his protagonists. Given their firebrand image, it wouldn’t be incorrect to say the writer/director pours water on his two leads. It might be unfair to compare Gandhi’s portrayal with Sadashiv Amrapurkar’s blazing performance in Benegal’s TV series. Being a Doordarshan production, Benegal’s show looked like a live theatre performance – something Mahadevan’s film mirrors to a fault. But where Benegal’s show transcends its limitations is with Amrapurkar’s fearlessness with which he voices the bitter hypocrisies of a Hindu society, In Mahadevan’s film, Phule is less abrasive.There are a couple of neat touches though, which reflect the unrest of our times. In a scene, a group of Brahmins storm into Jyotirao and Savitri’s school, and ransack the place with sticks. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the vandalisation of the Habitat comedy club that took place a month ago, and was amused by how these groups have remained almost intact, nearly two centuries later. In his last speech, Phule warns that inter-religious, inter-caste conflict will not be wished away, but it will keep continuing in various forms. Even though it wasn’t designed this way, it feels prescient in the way we’re debating religious identities in the aftermath of the Pahalgam attack.However, I couldn’t fully trust the sporadic progressive posturing of the film, especially given how it concludes with the lie that caste oppression was on its way out from the Indian society. As much as the audience needs to learn about the superhuman initiative of the Phules (rather than the Maratha/Rajput/Mughal binary) – I’m not sure about the impact of a film that wants to eat its cake and have it too. Maybe, we can’t expect more in a time when provocation comes at the cost of one’s life. However, it also forced me to ask myself – is the threat more than what loomed over the Phules in the 1800s? Especially for a film that harps on the indignities faced by the couple to stand their ground, it feels cowardly to make our peace with a film satisfied with half-measures. I have a feeling that the Phules might not have approved of Mahadevan’s film.Phule is playing in theatres.