‘Papam Prathap’ movie review: Thiruveer’s dramedy makes for cumbersome viewing

Actor Thiruveer’s latest Telugu outing, Papam Prathap, begins like a thematic sequel to his previous film, The Great Pre-Wedding Show. While the former focused on the drama prior to a wedding, this film opens with a marriage sequence, where protagonists Prathap (Thiruveer) and Bujjamma (Payal Radhakrishna), childhood sweethearts, tie the knot.

At its core, the story is about the chaos that ensues when a personal problem between a couple balloons into a public spectacle. The drama begins on their wedding night, where something seems amiss with Bujjamma. When efforts to resolve the issue with her husband fail, she reaches out to the village elders for help. How far does Prathap go to address the elephant in the room and salvage his marriage?

While their issue could have logically been settled with a heartfelt conversation within four walls, things spiral out of control once the curious villagers get involved. The story is set in the late 90s, an era when the world was not yet a global village, awareness was limited, and Prathap does not know how to move forward.

Debutant SP Durga Naresh fashions the story as a loud dramedy, using the conflict to tap into the pulse of a laidback region. He peppers the narrative with 90s nostalgia — a time when video cassettes and landlines reigned supreme, and Telugu weeklies served as a window to the world. Yet, the simplicity of this setup is marred by an insensitive, tone-deaf treatment.

Papam Prathap’s male gaze, its desperation to sexualise every sequence for humour, and the conservative outlook towards marriage and mental health makes for uneasy viewing. Masculinity is consistently tied to a man’s performance in bed. The elderly men in the village and the relatives who attend the wedding cannot wait to know what transpires between the couple on their first night.

A subplot around a villager, Papa Rao (Goparaju Ramana), is a case in point. He salivates at the prospect of reading an adult story in a magazine. The storyteller needlessly visualises it, leaving little to imagination. He is verbose, flirts with women at every opportunity, and watches a soft-porn film with Prathap’s father, Veeraiah (Ajay Gosh).

All of this is passed off as harmless fun. Whenever the women come together, the conversation is strictly around their domestic duties, where the girl is reminded to compromise. She is not even welcome at her parents’ house post-marriage. Another disastrous homophobic thread unfolds in the second hour, where male bonhomie is exaggerated to preposterous levels. ‘At least marry a girl, I have no qualms,’ a father tells his son.

When the story finally approaches the issue through the lens of mental health with the arrival of an NRI doctor, Subrahmanyam (Srinivas Avasarala), there’s some hope for the narrative to regain its focus. It does find its mojo, albeit briefly. Though the discussion around hypnotherapy is shaky, it is still possible to empathise with Prathap’s earnestness in confronting the problem.

Prathap’s childhood episodes provide a context to the conflict, even though questions can arise about his parents not cautioning him early. Just when the film’s essence appears to hit home, a painful 30-minute stretch delays the inevitable. An entire village is a witness to Prathap’s mental turbulence. The thin line between humour and cacophony is blurred, and the mayhem tests patience.

Papam Prathap neither does justice to the man’s problem nor his wife’s reaction to it. The treatment of the core conflict, staged like a sudden revelation post-intermission, does not help. Every story does not need an absolute resolution, but this film makes a mockery of mental health by over-simplifying therapy as empathy.

While the director, who claims to have been inspired by true incidents, may have wanted to capture the realities of a conservative village, the problem lies in how it endorses this way of life. This is evident when Prathap is glorified for doing the bare minimum for his wife.

Cracking a good premise is only half the battle won. The true challenge lies in how sensitively the idea is nudged forward. For every bit of good the film tries to do, it is offset by problematic stretches, which the director mistakes for rural flavour.

The film’s silver lining is Thiruveer’s performance as a confused man ready to confront his vulnerabilities. Payal Radhakrishna shows promise, though her character could have been delineated better.

Ajay Gosh goes overboard as the loud father. The less said about Goparaju Ramana’s role, the better. Devi Prasad is yet again cast as a hammy father, making little impact, and Srinivas Avasarala is underutilised. Within their limited scope, both Raasi and Roopa Lakshmi hold their own with poise.

Though the film lacks a definitive visual appeal, the geography of a waterbody separating the towns of both protagonists — who must navigate shaky waters in a marriage — strikes a chord. K. M. Radhakrishnan’s music, in what was tipped to be his comeback film, disappoints, while Suresh Bobbili’s background score tries to overcompensate for the writing flaws.

Papam Prathap is a reminder of a persistent problem with Telugu cinema — a sensitive issue downplayed by over-simplified, insensitive treatment. The film is exhausting to watch.

Published – April 17, 2026 03:02 pm IST