Srikanth

Atul Kulkarni's *Srikanth* arrives as an earnest biographical drama that largely succeeds in its mission to inspire, even if it occasionally stumbles into the familiar trappings of the Indian uplift narrative. Ranveer Singh delivers a surprisingly nuanced performance—shedding the bombast that often defines his work to inhabit a character whose defiance stems not from aggression but from intellectual conviction. His Srikanth is neither saintly nor tragically noble; he's petulant, ambitious, and occasionally insufferable, which makes him far more human than the hagiographic template these films usually demand. The relationship between Srikanth and Devika (Jyotika) crackles with genuine tension, their dynamic recalling the best of *Taare Zameen Par*, though without quite reaching that film's emotional clarity. Where *Taare Zameen Par* found poetry in a child's struggle, *Srikanth* settles for a more conventional trajectory—the underdog overcomes, the system bends, the happy ending materializes.

Where Kulkarni's direction truly excels is in the quieter moments: a blind man navigating an airport terminal becomes a meditation on spatial awareness and masculine pride; a classroom scene where Srikanth refuses help carries more weight than any triumphant montage could. However, the film's second half grows increasingly melodramatic, with courtroom sequences that feel obligatory rather than earned, and supporting characters (particularly Srikanth's parents) who remain frustratingly on