Constable Kanakam series review: A watchable cop thriller with more hits than misses

There is something fascinating about the spree of OTT shows we have been getting with female cop protagonists in the past couple of years. Delhi Crime, Dahaad, Grahan, Aranyak, Brinda, the recently-released Andhera — the list is endless. At a time when big screen experiences are ruled over by brawny and testosterone-filled characters, series creators have found a way to restore the gender balance somewhat. And like most trends, this too has reached a saturation point. 

Director: Prashanth Kumar Dimmala

Cast: Varsha Bollamma, Megha Lekha, Avasarala Srinivas, Rajeev Kanakala

Streaming on: ETV Win

From that perspective, you enter Constable Kanakam, the latest Telugu series on ETV Win, with a touch of skepticism. Kanakam, (played by an impressive Varsha Bollamma), is not an invincible, steely protagonist (not until the final episode, at least). She is someone who fears lizards, occasionally reports late to work, and believes in small superstitions because they give meaning to her life. She is sincere, but she is not perfect and definitely not the first choice of her team to investigate a series of cases where young girls go missing everytime they try to enter a forbidden forest zone.

For a show about such intense themes, (besides the girls going missing, there are also rumours of black magic practitioners haunting the village), Constable Kanakam is surprisingly subdued, even light-hearted occasionally, in its treatment. Even when the conflict kicks in, the series never becomes plot-driven. The focus remains on Kanakam’s journey of fighting all the prejudices against her as she attempts to unravel the truth behind the umpteen cases of missing young girls from their village.

There is a finesse to the visuals by Sriram Mukkapati, and the small village of Repalle looks believable in its dynamics, where everyone knows everyone and more importantly have impressions of each other. The makers also find a way to keep things interesting with their unconventional edit choices. A simple visual like Kanakam on her route to report to her superior becomes tense because of how the makers choose to intersperse it with the visuals of a dead body and of the regular hustle-bustle of village life. The music (by Suresh Bobbili) is suitably brooding and atmospheric. What also benefits the series is the cold open prologues, often eerie slices from a stranger’s childhood that add to the mystery instead of fitting in like puzzle pieces. (This is also the segment where the makers don’t hold back whatsoever — in one of the prologues, a small kid sets an animal to fire out of pure jealousy, and it’s not an easy visual to digest). 

At the same time, what’s befuddling is how we are often served long, explanatory flashbacks which underline a detail to death, in case we missed it. These exposition-heavy sequences are far too many to count, and often dampen the rhythm. But in totality, the episodes of Constable Kanakam are cut (by editor Madhav Gullapalli) to ensure a brisk pace, and the ball keeps rolling despite all the hiccups, which include an incredulous running element where everyone from policemen to civilians treat Kanakam very poorly, not once showing cognition of her police uniform and the fear-like respect it usually evokes. 

While the logical leaps do not bother, what hurts the show is its attempt to keep the the antagonist in disguise, even as that character operates in the most attention-seekingly cryptic manner. While the series is good at many aspects, keeping its villain under wraps is not one of them. Once the secret is officially out (which occurs only in the final episode, gratefully), every minute of Constable Kanakam feels excruciating, for it doesn’t add anything to our understanding of Kanakam or her universe. And of course, by now, we have seen Kanakam emerge as a bona fide goddess in her battle against evil. She is no longer human in her battle for goodness, the makers tell us. But what made Kanakam endearing and worth rooting for was her simplicity, the fact that she was not heroic, that she had to summon her inner strength after a lot of struggle. Up until a few days ago, Kanakam was a regular young woman.

And just like her humaneness, it’s Kanakam’s relatable bonding with Chandrika that lends the show such a breezy, easy-going vibe in the earlier portions. In a heartwarming sequence with Kanakam and Chandrika early on, the two have a quiet yet playful birthday party of their own. (“You can drink in a uniform, if you are not on duty,” Chandrika tells Kanakam, and Kanakam follows her advice). Not that labels really matter, but there is a rare tenderness to these moments, where Kanakam and Chandrika straddle a zone between being friends and lovers. Which is why it’s disappointing when Kanakam later tells a friend how she saw Chandrika more as a mother-figure than a friend. 

The show had great potential to subvert many genre-conventions, and even does so on some occasions — but at the heart of it, Constable Kanakam plays it safer than it needed to. Fortunately, that doesn’t make it any less watchable either.