‘Phule’ review: Too much like textbook history

Writer-director Ananth Narayan Mahadevan bookends his 129-minute biopic on social reformers and educationists Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule with the events of 1897. Poona is devastated by the plague. Savitribai runs across parched land to bring an ailing child to a makeshift medical camp.

Before the doctors can pronounce a prognosis, events move back in time to 1848. Savitri was a child bride then, married to the slightly older Jyotirao Phule who, even as a teenager, was progressive enough to want his wife to be educated. This did not sit well with his conservative father (Vinay Pathak). Undeterred, Jyotirao continued to encourage not just his wife, but also the younger village girls, to learn.

Now older and more committed, the Phules’ egalitarian practices and focus on social reform conflicted with the caste hierarchy of the time. The ire of higher-caste men, enraged that the ‘untouchables’ were stepping out of their lane, compelled the couple to move away from their family home. 

Joy Sengupta plays the upper-caste Vinayak, Darsheel Safary is the adopted son Yashwant Phule, and Amit Behl plays the head priest. Sharad Kelkar serves as narrator, giving the staccato screenplay some cohesion.

The landed Phule was both businessman and social reformer. The film progresses through key life moments, almost as if visually and dutifully depicting Wikipedia entries for the Phules. From Jyotirao teaching his wife, to setting up schools for girls, taking a stand against widow discrimination, forming the Satyashodhak Samaj, encouraging Savitri and Fatima to become the first female teachers in India, and challenging the caste system—every landmark moment and action is perfunctorily depicted. Add to this a leaden cinematic language and basic storytelling (co-written by Muazzam Beg), which makes Phule feel like a rendition from a history textbook.

Phule reads and rereads Thomas Paine’s 1791 book Rights of Man. Inspired by the writings, he stokes his own little revolution that includes enrolling Savitri (Patralekhaa) and his friend’s sister, Fatima Shaikh (Akshaya Gurav), in a teacher training programme and galvanising barbers to reject age-old oppressive practices. While Fatima is barely given any speaking scenes, we do see Savitri’s empowerment and confidence increase. Jyotirao encourages and supports her, and Savitri bravely leans into her agency, even when upper-caste Brahmins humiliate her. Patralekhaa Paul is forceful and spirited in those latter scenes—an energy that is missing from Jyotirao—yet Gandhi interprets this historical character with reverence and solemnity.

Mahadevan respectfully enforces Savitri and Jyotirao’s rock-solid partnership, their mutual respect, and unfaltering commitment to a greater cause—one that still feels pertinent.

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