Category: entertainment

Whether
it’s
cinema,
television,
standup
performances,
or
the
millions
of
memes
plaguing
the
Internet,
the
stereotypical
Indian
family
has
always
been
an
object
of
ridicule.
The
moms
are
too
controlling,
food
is
uncontrollably
spicy,
curfews
are
annoying,
privacy
is
obsolete,
academic
excellence
flows
through
generations,
and
well…
the
list
is
too
long
to
summarise
here.
But
if
you
want
a
catalogue
of
these,
Prime
Video
might
have
just
what
you’re
looking
for.
Its
latest
series,
The
Pradeeps
of
Pittsburgh,
is
an
unhinged
compilation
of
these
comical
familial
laws
that
Indians
supposedly
stick
to
and
gives
an
unabashed
228-minute-long
commentary
on
the
same.

The
show
also
adressess
the
awkward
nature
of
conversations
around
intimacy
in
Indian
families

The
eight-episode-long
series
follows
a
typical
Indian
family,
The
Pradeeps,
who
have
moved
to
Pittsburgh
in
the
United
States
––
the
land
of
opportunities,
as
they
call
it.
The
family
is
headed
by
Mahesh,
the
optimistic
engineer
father
who
made
everyone
move
across
the
planet
for
a
SpaceX
contract,
and
Sudha,
the
brain-surgeon
mother
who’s
having
a
hard
time
getting
her
medical
license
in
the
strict-on-rules
new
land.
The
kids
include
teenager
Bhanu,
the
eldest
daughter
who
is
desperate
to
fit
in
the
new
culture;
Kamal,
an
introverted
and
shy
young
man
with
a
bunch
of
phobias;
and
Vinod,
an
optimistic
junior
high
schooler
who
views
the
world
through
his
rose-tinted
glasses
and
stays
positive
even
when
being
bullied.

This,
however,
isn’t
merely
a
story
of
an
Indian
family
having
a
tough
time
adjusting
to
a
foreign
land.
The
Pradeeps
are
also
the
prime
suspects
in
an
ongoing
investigation
over
a
mysterious
crime
involving
their
Christian
neighbours
––
revealed
later
in
the
show.
Now
under
the
scanner
of
immigration
services,
the
family
is
being
interrogated
over
the
serious
crime,
with
a
possible
risk
of
deportation
looming.

The
entire
series
is
a
sequence
of
flashback
narratives
with
the
two
officers
in
charge
trying
to
break
these
tough
nuts
into
confessing.
The
Pradeeps
are
confronted
in
groups,
trios,
couples,
and
even
in
isolation,
but
the
brown
family
couldn’t
be
more
disinterested,
let
alone
be
intimidated,
by
the
colourful
investigative
tactics.

The
show
is
driven
by
the
nonchalance
of
its
characters
and
their
wildly
different
perspectives
for
every
incident.
While
Sudha
might
recall
a
snowstorm
causing
their
car
to
slide
in
slow
motion
before
bursting
into
flames
––
“We
Indians
like
to
add
a
little
masala
to
our
stories”
is
how
she’d
justify
the
exaggeration
––
Mahesh
would
describe
the
same
day
as
a
positive
one
that
brought
a
fresh
start
to
their
lives.
The
oscillating
narratives
extend
to
the
neighbours
as
well,
who
have
their
own
twisted
versions,
adding
to
the
confusion.

Every
version
seems
to
be
the
revelatory
truth
until
the
next
person
drops
in
with
a
totally
opposite
version.
The
show
even
attempts
to
portray
the
humorous
similarities
between
Indian
mothers
and
religious
Christian
mothers
at
one
point.

The
episodes
are
short,
crisply
written,
and
transition
effortlessly.
The
overall
tone
stays
light
and
humorous.
Even
when
dealing
with
grave
themes
like
racism,
the
show
doesn’t
turn
serious
at
any
point.
Pradeeps
of
Pittsburgh
chugs
along
like
a
mindless
high-school
drama
where
the
protagonists
haven’t
yet
met
the
harsher
realities
of
life.

Ashwin’s
character
is
fascinated
by
the
comfortable
lives
of
US
garbagemen,
contrasting
with
their
malnourished
counterparts
in
his
home
country

The
show,
however,
comes
with
a
string
of
overly
used
stereotypes
and
controversial
dialogues
and
analogies
that
might
offend
a
certain
people.
For
instance,
in
one
scene,
Bhanu
describes
India
as
a
“supermodel
with
diarrhoea”.
Her
explanation?
Well,
the
country
is
beautiful
to
look
at
but
doesn’t
offer
much
to
a
female
teenager
because
of
societal
restrictions
and
curfews.
In
another
scene,
we
see
a
disabled
white
kid
mocking
a
500
rupee
note
and
calling
Gandhi
an
anorexic
Charlie
Brown.
There
are
also
references
to
a
shy
Indian
boy
getting
aroused
after
brushing
past
a
cow
udder.
No
wonder
the
series
isn’t
being
aggressively
publicised
in
India.

While
a
little
harmless
humour
doesn’t
hurt,
when
a
show
is
premiering
globally,
it
comes
with
the
responsibility
of
balancing
representation
to
some
extent.
While
I
am
not
exactly
calling
for
a
monochromatic
picture
with
just
the
nation’s
achievements,
or
a
singularly
patriotic
narrative
that
paints
the
country
as
the
greatest
on
the
planet
––
let’s
leave
that
to
our
supremely
talented
politicians
––
a
little
more
sensitivity
could
have
gone
a
long
way.
I
don’t
want
to
dig
up
the
debate
about
art
and
cinema
influencing
the
audience’s
perspective,
but
for
viewers
who
have
never
visited
India,
these
representations
can
build
a
certain
narrative.
As
someone
who
lives
in
the
country
in
question,
I
can
assure
you
we
don’t
get
ready
in
glittery
sarees
and
sherwanis
just
to
go
out
for
a
plate
of

panipuri,
as
the
Pradeeps
might
have
you
believe.

The
Pradeeps
of
Pittsburgh
isn’t
the
first
American
show
to
opt
for
this
ill-informed
portrayal.
The
Big
Bang
Theory,
perhaps
one
of
the
most
popular
sitcoms
of
its
time,
resorted
to
certain
harmful
stereotypes
about
Indians,
too.
Raj,
one
of
the
main
characters
in
the
show,
couldn’t
speak
to
women,
relied
on
his
father
for
his
expenses,
and
sought
to
control
his
sister’s
love
life
––
justifying
his
actions
with
ancient
scriptures
that
declare
women
as
a
property
of
her
father
or
brother.
All
this
despite
being
a
gifted
astrophysicist
and
a
man
of
science.
It’s
time
we
left
these
stereotypical
representations
in
the
last
century,
where
they
belong,
and
opt
for
a
more
realistic
portrayal.

The
Pradeeps
of
Pittsburgh,
however,
works
as
light-hearted
comedy
about
the
familiar
troubles
of
the
Indian
diaspora
in
the
US
––
nothing
more.
The
show
is
full
of
brain-rotting
and
superficial
jokes
around
sex,
religion,
parenting,
and
everything
brown,
and
while
some
stereotypes
are
exaggerated
beyond
reason,
an
Indian
audience
will
easily
find
moments
of
relatability.
But
if
you’re
easily
offended,
or
often
finds
yourself
engaged
in
heated
arguments
on
Twitter
(yes,
we
know
it’s
called
X
now)
with
strangers,
and
have
a
keen
interest
in
cancel
culture,
you
should
probably
skip
this
one.
That
being
said,
I
love
my
nation
dearly.
Please
don’t
cancel
me
for
recommending
this
series.

Rating:
6/10

Imagine
watching
a
water
bottle
falling
and
your
immediate
thought
is
that
your
best
friend
would
trip
on
it,
hurt
themselves
or
die
in
a
freak
incident.
Or
when
your
hands
brush
past
someone
you
fancy,
instead
of
feeling
the
thrill
of
attraction,
you
withdraw
in
horror —
scared,
panicked,
teary-eyed.
While
these
might
not
be
the
regular
reactions
of
someone
with
a
healthy
brain,
many
amongst
us,
suffering
from
mental
distress
and
anxiety
battle
this
every
day.

This
World
Mental
Health
Day,
Sony
Liv
has
dropped
a
new
anthology
series
with
six
standalone
stories
on
various
mental
distresses
such
as
obsessive-compulsive
disorder
(OCD),
schizophrenia,
eating
disorders,
post-traumatic
stress
disorder
(PTSD),
and
more.

What
makes
this
show
distinct
from
typical
ones
that
touch
upon
real-life
issues,
is
that
it
ditches
cinematic
dramatization
and
information
overload
for
a
realistic
portrayal
of
how
these
issues
affect
the
everyday
lives
of
humans.
The
setup
is
relatable,
and
it
feels
that
we’ve
met
these
characters
around
us.

In
these
six
different
stories
about
mental
health,
we
see
a
corporate
employee
fretting
about
calories,
a
teenage
boy
being
bullied
in
his
village,
and
a
man
cutting
off
his
friends
after
an
ugly
breakup.
While
some
of
the
stories
start
right
from
the
distressing
symptoms,
others
gradually
ease
into
it.

Shivani
Raghuvanshi
suffers
from
obsessive-compulsive
disorder
in
Malika
Kumar’s
The
Daily
Puppet
Show
(Episode
6)

The
show
presses
on
the
commonality
of
such
issues
and
how
easily
we
undermine
the
numbers.
It
makes
a
careful
choice
to
pick
up
stories
across
the
economic
strata,
from
financially
struggling
families
and
middle-class
abodes
to
the
upper
middle-class
and
well-to-do
clans.
Although
the
show
doesn’t
delve
into
the
deeper
details
of
disorders,
with
each
episode
spanning
roughly
half
an
hour,
it
gives
a
fair
idea
of
what
it’s
like
to
live
with
a
specific
mental
health
disorder.

The
story
that
I
found
the
strongest
was
Sahaan
Hattangadi’s
Purple
Duniya.
The
writing
and
the
performances
shine
in
this
unpredictable
tale.
Two
minutes
into
the
episode,
we
see
a
purple
rubber
duck
floating
in
an
apartment,
flooded
with
water,
vibing
to
rave
music.
Okay,
Hattangadi,
you
have
my
full
attention.

We
then
meet
our
actual
protagonist,
Raag
(Tanmay
Dhanania),
a
30-year-old
who
lost
his
job
and
was
dumped
by
his
fiancé
a
few
months
ago.
Since
then,
he
has
isolated
himself
and
doesn’t
pick
up
the
calls
of
his
friends
and
family.
Sounds
dark?
Well,
here’s
the
twist:
he
is
happy,
energetic,
and
super
chill.
He
sees
the
world
around
him
in
the
colour
of
purple —
traffic
lights,
nameplates,
and
even
trucks —
as
he
snakes
through
the
roads
on
his
bike
at
questionably
high
speeds
and
keeps
zoning
out.

Tanmay
Dhanania’s
Purple
Duniya
(Episode
2)
is
an
interesting
representation
of
mental
health
issues
in
modern
times

Throughout
the
episode,
I
found
myself
googling,
trying
to
decode
the
issue
the
episode
was
dealing
with.
The
story
kept
me
invested
throughout
and
surprised
me
towards
the
end.
I
wish
I
could
tell
more,
but
anything
that
I
say
now
would
be
a
spoiler.

My
next
favourite
was
Sumeet
Vyas’s
Caged,
helmed
by
Danny
Mamik
along
with
Hattangadi.
Here
we
see
the
unlikely
bond
between
Vyas,
the
city-returned
son
of
the
wealthiest
man
in
the
village,
and
a
shy
teenage
boy
played
by
Mohammad
Samad

Tumbbad.
The
latter
gets
bullied
around
and
is
heavily
misunderstood
and
lonely.
He
wants
to
study
literature,
but
his
parents
are
forcing
him
to
take
up
medicine
as
a
career.

Mohammad
Samad
has
given
one
of
the
finest
performances
in
the
show

Both
these
characters
are
wrapped
in
inhibitions
of
their
own
and
find
solace
in
each
other’s
company.
The
entire
episode
is
poetic
and
well-written.
Samad’s
performance
is
one
of
the
best
in
the
entire
series.
His
emotions,
inner
struggles,
and
suffocation
resonate
though
the
screen.

Next
was
Shreyas
Talpade’s
Swagatam,
where
he
is
suffering
from
schizophrenia.
He
no
longer
has
a
job,
is
supported
by
his
wife,
and
lives
in
a
constant
paranoia
of
someone
chasing
him.
His
condition
hasn’t
advanced
so
much
that
he
hallucinates,
but
he
can’t
be
left
unattended
and
spends
the
day
with
a
help
group
during
the
day.

Sukriti
Tyagi’s
story
gives
a
careful
portrayal
of
schizophrenic
patients,
treating
them
as
humans.
The
condition
is
portrayed
through
near
visual
trickery,
too.
All
the
scenes
with
Talpade
have
a
dull
yellowish
tint
to
them.
As
soon
as
he
exits
the
screen,
everything
is
brightly
lit
and
lively.
Swagatam
also
excels
in
showing
the
struggles
of
families
of
schizophrenic
patients,
who
suffer
physical,
emotional,
social,
and
financial
tolls.
And
while
the
story’s
momentum
keeps
ebbing,
Tyagi’s
treatment
of
the
subject
is
entertaining
and
informative.

Shweta
Basu
Prasad
has
done
an
impressive
portrayal
of
a
PTSD
patient
in
Aditya
Sarpotdar’s
Bhanwar
(Episode
3)

Shweta
Basu
Prasad
and
Priya
Bapat’s
performances
were
the
highlights
of
the
anthology.
Both
women,
one
from
a
village
and
the
other
from
the
city,
dread
intimacy.
They
cry,
shiver
and
even
go
breathless
at
the
touch
of
the
opposite
gender.
They
play
women
suffering
from
post-traumatic
stress
disorder,
and
their
portrayal
is
one
of
the
best
I’ve
seen
in
recent
films
on
the
subject.
I
wish
their
episode —
Bhanwar —
knew
more
about
what
to
do
with
these
amazing
artists.

Zindaginama
has
good
intentions
but
isn’t
able
to
keep
up
the
momentum.
While
some
stories
will
speak
to
you
effortlessly,
others
will
fail
to
keep
you
invested.
The
latter
ones
feel
like
an
unfinished
job,
with
a
random
slice
of
someone’s
life
being
presented.
Despite
tackling
important
themes
and
lesser-known
aspects
of
mental
health
issues
tactfully,
the
show
falters
in
execution.
Films
and
television
shows
with
social
messages
—
especially
such
sensitive
ones —
need
to
walk
a
thin
line,
balancing
facts
and
information
with
entertainment,
so
they
don’t
seem
preachy.
That’s
how
you
keep
people
glued
while
raising
awareness
about
a
taboo
subject.
Because
what’s
the
point
of
an
informational
show
if
an
ignorant
person
gets
bored
and
turns
it
off?

And
it
doesn’t
help
that
the
quality
of
tone
of
the
six
stories
oscillate
wildly
with
each
episode.
While
I
really
want
to
recommend
a
few
stories
out
of
the
anthology,
the
rest
can
be
easily
skipped.
Nevertheless,
Zindaginama
is
an
earnest
attempt
at
normalising
mental
health
issues
and
humanising
people
who
suffer
from
them,
and
it
deserves
appreciation
for
the
same.

Overall
Rating:
6/10

Episodic
Rating:

Purple
Duniya:
3.5/5

Caged:
3/5

Swagatam:
2.5/5

Bhanwar:
2.5/5

Puppet
Show:
2/5

One
Plus
One:
2/5

Indian
rural
folklore
is
filled
with
bone-chilling
stories
of
superstitions,
witchcraft
and
occult
practices.
While
the
terminologies
or
details
may
vary
with
pin
codes,
what
remains
constant
is
the
paralysing
fear
of
the
unknown,
which
often
pushes
one
to
humanity-defying
extremes
and
unbelievable
crimes.

SonyLiv’s
latest
Web
series
Manvat
Murders
is
about
a
similar
story
of
occult
killings,
based
on
the
horrifying
murders
that
shook
Maharashtra’s
Manvat
village
in
the
‘70s.
In
a
span
of
two
years,
brutally
butchered
bodies
of
11
girls
and
women
were
found
in
the
village,
with
blood
drawn
from
their
private
parts,
hinting
at
a
ritualistic
connection.

The
eight-part
Marathi-language
thriller
begins
with
the
killing
of
a
woman
working
in
a
field
by
two
masked
men,
who
take
an
axe
to
her
head.
She
is
just
one
among
many
victims.
The
entire
region
is
gripped
in
terror
and
women
are
scared
to
step
out
of
their
houses
alone.

We
are
then
introduced
to
Ramakant
Kulkarni
(Ashutosh
Gowariker),
a
decorated
police
officer
with
an
impressive
track
record
of
solving
all
his
cases.
Once
the
bodies
pile
up,
Kulkarni
is
sent
off
from
Mumbai
to
Manvat
to
find
the
culprit
behind
the
hideous
killings.

Sonali
Kulkarni
has
done
a
stellar
performance
in
the
series

Kulkarni
is
the
polar
opposite
of
his
corrupt
colleagues.
He
has
a
keen
interest
in
criminal
psychology,
has
his
own
tactics
for
extracting
information
from
people,
and
picks
up
even
on
the
smallest
of
details
from
the
case.
While
the
team
around
him
is
impatient,
clueless,
and
rogue,
the
poised
officer
has
all
his
moves
calculated
in
advance.

As
the
investigation
proceeds,
one
of
the
prime
suspects
turns
out
to
be
a
local
couple:
Uttamrao
Barahate
(Makrand
Anaspure)
and
his
consort
Rukmini
(Sonali
Kulkarni),
who
run
a
secret
illegal
hooch
business
and
have
the
entire
community
riddled
under
their
debt.
Even
when
they
are
banished
from
the
region
by
law,
their
business
—
now
being
handled
by
Rukmani’s
sister
Samindri
—
goes
on
without
a
hitch.
Meanwhile,
the
couple
is
working
on
a
petition
to
reclaim
their
house.

Through
the
next
seven
episodes,
as
the
investigation
continues,
we
get
served
with
frequent
flashbacks
of
previous
murders.
And
as
more
killings
take
place,
the
case
grows
into
a
tangle
of
old
leads
and
new
suspects.
Themes
of
poverty,
illiteracy,
and
addiction
are
also
touched
upon
while
keeping
the
prime
focus
on
occultism.

The
crime
thriller
portrays
the
topic
with
the
care
and
sensitivity
it
deserves.
Its
unfiltered
representation
of
the
murders
and
paedophilia
is
hair-raising
and
disturbing,
but
rarely
gratuitous.
The
show
manages
to
explore
the
fragility
and
vulnerability
of
the
human
mind,
easily
manipulated
and
pushed
to
dark
corners.
It’s
frightening
to
see
how
trivial
and
indispensable
human
life
might
be
for
those
blindly
following
the
herd.

Ashutosh
Gowariker
plays
police
officer
Ramakant
Kulkarni
who
is
inspecting
the
case
of
occult
killings
in
Manvat

Sonali
Kulkarni,
in
particular,
has
done
an
exceptional
job
of
portraying
this
unabashed
faith
in
an
immoral
cause.
Here,
she
plays
an
infertile
woman,
ready
to
go
to
any
extent
to
bear
a
child.
Her
persona
is
powerful
and
dark,
and
she’ll
make
you
uncomfortable
every
time
she
is
on
the
screen.
In
a
particularly
harrowing
scene
in
the
third
episode,
she
wails
in
front
of
a
lamp
under
the
sacred
fig
tree
for
being
barren.
Kulkarni
has
a
respectable
body
of
work
behind
her,
and
her
portrayal
of
Rukmini
sits
among
them
as
one
of
her
finest
so
far.

Also
excellent
here
is,
Sai
Tamhankar,
who
plays
Rukmini’s
sister.
She
brings
an
intimidating
aura
to
every
scene
she’s
in.
This
was
the
first
time
I
got
a
chance
to
see
her
work,
and
I
am
now
eagerly
looking
forward
to
seeing
more
of
her
in
future.

Manvat
Murders
is
also
shot
and
edited
in
ways
that
compound
the
horror
of
the
events
unfolding
before
you.
Scenes
of
every
day
life
are
portrayed
impressively,
as
well,
bringing
a
living
rhythm
to
the
village
and
its
people.
Visually,
the
show
can
often
evoke
a
quiet
serenity,
despite
the
macabre
events
unfolding
in
the
background.
Some
of
the
frames
(Satyajeet
Shobha
Shriram
handles
the
cinematography
in
the
show),
like
the
ones
with
Uttamrao’s
villa
in
the
focus,
are
filmed
so
beautifully
that
they
give
the
impression
of
a
vibrant
painting.
Director
Ashish
Avinash
Bende
has
wisely
ditched
the
overexploited
romanticization
of
the
landscape
in
favour
of
a
more
authentic
representation
of
rural
Maharashtra,
without
compromising
its
cultural
appeal.

The
series
is
available
to
stream
in
Marathi,
Hindi,
Telugu,
Malayalam,
Kannada,
and
Bengali

In
the
investigation
rooms,
the
colours
of
the
character’s
ensembles
are
in
perfect
sync
with
the
walls,
and
colour
tones
are
in
alignment
with
the
mood
of
the
scene.
It’s
these
small
technical
details
that
ironically
add
poetic
value
to
the
scenes.

But
while
it
excels
in
recreating
a
setting,
Manvat
Murders’
story
suffers
from
an
ebbing
momentum,
despite
power-packed
performances.
I
understand
the
series’
intention
of
drawing
a
contrast
between
the
intense
occult
and
simple
rationale,
but
the
approach
ends
up
becoming
a
hurdle
for
the
narrative.
The
episodic
mystery
didn’t
really
hook
me,
and
I
rarely
found
myself
aching
in
anticipation
of
what’s
to
come.
Even
though
the
show
is
based
on
a
true
incident
and
isn’t
exactly
a
groundbreaking
concept
(it
comes
weeks
after
Netflix
film
Sector
36,
based
on
2006
Noida
serial
murders),
it
could
have
avoided
being
predictable.
You
don’t
really
need
to
look
up
the
real-life
case
to
gauge
where
the
show
is
going.
Given
that
the
gruesome
case
isn’t
a
part
of
national
consciousness,
not
everyone
might
be
aware
of
the
events
that
transpired.
But
Manvat
Murders
misses
the
opportunity
to
retell
the
story
definitively
for
those
who
might
be
new
to
the
nightmare.

Despite
its
shortcomings,
Manvat
Murders
remains
a
capable
thriller
and
an
ideal
jumping-off
point
for
true
crime
nuts
to
dig
into
the
horrific
events
that
took
place
decades
ago.
It
is
a
fine
adaptation
that
stays
true
to
its
source
material
and
gives
away
the
facts
straight,
without
dramatising
or
pacifying
them
in
the
name
of
creative
liberty.

While
it
won’t
exactly
keep
you
on
your
toes
in
anticipation,
it
makes
up
for
it
with
its
chilling
portrayal
of
sacrificial
killings
that
shook
the
life
and
times
of
a
tiny
village
in
Maharashtra.
And
its
outstanding
performances
are
enough
to
carry
you
through
to
the
end.
Manvat
Murders
raises
important
questions
about
faith
and
the
grave
consequences
of
unchecked
superstition.
But
those
questions
rarely
lead
to
a
deeper
introspection.

Rating:
6.5/10