Court Movie Review: A skillfully executed crowd-pleaser

Priyadarshi, who won audience’s hearts with his comic prowess in Pelli Choopulu and later proved his mettle with films like Balagam and Mallesham, remains an atypical hero for Telugu cinema. Similarly, in Court - State vs A Nobody, his character Teja is introduced with a suitably low-key, understated energy. Teja is a budding lawyer—smart, well equipped for his job, and yet an underconfident man striving for that one big chance. He is tempted to keep his ambitions low, because of how he is treated by his boss. In the first half of the film, Teja is largely presented as a bystander, a listener of the past before he begins his journey of reshaping the future of Chandu (Harsh Roshan), the victim he has promised to defend. Priyadarshi’s existing image adds to the playout here, and Teja remains a character just waiting for his moment of resurgence. The pre-interval portions of the film are taut and gripping, and yet relatively off-beat, because they gradually set the stage for the crowd-pleaser that Court emerges to be in the second half. 

Director: Ram Jagadeesh

Cast: Priyadarshi, Harsh Roshan, Sridevi, Shivaji, Rohini

Once Teja takes up Chandu’s case, there is barely a dull moment in the film. The focus shifts prominently to courtroom proceedings, and the brooding tension makes away for moments of amusing courtroom banter as Teja begins to score small victories from the get-go. The writers (Ram Jagadeesh who share credits with Karthikeya Srinivas and Vamsidhar Sirigiri) make good use of humour here, aided by Priyadarshi’s deadpan comic style. For every fumble the antagonist’s team makes, you are compelled to cheer on. It’s almost like a sense of pent-up anger and sadness that finds a release in these moments as Teja consistently scores over Mangapathi. Fortunately, Court doesn’t play out as a mystery drama, nor has any big twists in the second half. It becomes fairly clear who is the victim here, and who is misusing the legal system. The second half of the film could have easily fallen into a template as Teja leads Chandu to acquittal. But writer-director Ram Jagadeesh surprises the audience with a few developments in the second act, especially the one involving Teja’s return to his hometown.

It’s also the little touches on the execution level that leave a mark. Chandu and Jabili's (played marvellously by Roshan and Sridevi) romantic moments are established in a refreshing manner. Their relationship begins with hilarious mutual roast sessions over phone calls, and yet we realise both of them are leading a double life of sorts—under their spunky selves lies a side that has learnt how to confirm and obey the powerful figures around them. Ram Jagadeesh captures the drudgery of legal proceedings with a consistent montage of Chandu taking off his footwear and being uncuffed every time he enters the court. One striking scene juxtaposes Chandu’s suffering under custodial violence with his family's obliviousness as they sit outside, still naively waiting for justice to be served. The film doesn’t offer overt commentary on caste discrimination and rather chooses to offer small moments of realisation—like the one where an unscrupulous lawyer (Harshavardhan) ends up uttering a slur while trying to prove Chandu guilty. These touches of realism, be it the manner the guard calls out witnesses’ names, or how a courtroom is vacated at the time of video testimonies, adds to the film’s edgy quality. They also enhance the narrative, making for an unorthodox portrayal of a courtroom, without obstructing its dramatic flow. 

Even the manner in which Teja’s boss (Saikumar) is etched out is a delight to watch. In the early scenes, we are compelled to see him as a manipulative, indifferent superior who derives joy out of dominating his modest junior. However, a beautiful conversation between him and Teja in the second act turns the tables on us, reminding how the truth is far more complex than what appears. 

Which is why a few of the narrative choices, aimed to simplify things, feel off-key and bother more than expected. The background score is often cloying, and threatens to drown the narrative with its sentimentality. Ram Jagadeesh makes space for an elaborate flashback sequence, underlining a point that could have been made in a much shorter duration. On the other hand, scenes like the interval point, where Teja has a big epiphany, or a confrontation with the rival lawyer later on where Teja rings the bell, are strangely understated in their dramatic punches. 

And then, there is the climactic monologue by Teja. In a film that’s tackling a subject as sensitive as the POCSO act, the monologue feels out of place. It appears that the saviour hero is now keen to sermonise not just to the menacing rivals on-screen, but the audience in the auditorium too. It doesn’t help that Teja ends up simplifying the nuances that lay foundation for the said act, labelling those taking offense to a relationship between a 19-year-old boy and a 17-year-old girl as sensitive. Such a relationship is undoubtedly a tricky terrain, carrying a complex socio-political element that requires a more nuanced approach than legally provided, black-and-white solutions. However, Court - State vs a Nobody takes the easy route here, by offering a final verdict about the misuse of the act than the essence of the act itself. Resultantly, this monologue almost ends up derailing everything good the film has achieved so far.

If that doesn’t happen, the credit goes to Shivaji, who plays the antagonist Mangapathi. Ram Jagadeesh understands the importance of a strong antagonist in a narrative like this, introducing Mangapathi’s character in a brilliant birthday party scene early on, where his oppressively domineering nature comes out in all its ugly colours. (Special mention to performances by Rohini and Sudhakar who deftly capture the timidness of their characters, that only enhances Mangapathi’s villain side).

From that point on, the pathway for the audience becomes clear in terms of who to root for, and more importantly, who to root against. The scary thing about Mangapathi is how he asserts his perspective, especially in the scene where he talks about the society’s perception of somebody’s life more important than their life itself. Shivaji completely chews the scenery, and Court excels in crafting a villain so entertainingly reprehensible that you can’t help but root for his downfall. If that’s not a defining trait of a mainstream crowd-pleaser, what is?