Tagaru Palya review: A delicious rural drama filled with realistic characters

Among the many things debut director Umesh K Krupa’s Tagaru Palya, produced by actor Dhananjaya, does is cement Rangayana Raghu’s stature as THE one person who can play a nervous father with so many variations, each character ringing so true. In this film, Raghu is the father who exemplifies over-the-top emotions — be it anger, sadness, joy or sheer anxiety — with pitch-perfect timing. And while the world knows Tara’s prowess as an actor, here she shines some more, with emotions changing by the micro-minute on the rich canvas that’s her face.

The storyline is pretty simple — a family led by Pandappa (Rangayana Raghu) is heading to pray to its deity in the forest for his daughter’s wedding, with a sacrificial ram in tow. He takes along half the village with him, in two tractors, with the promise of liquor and tagaru palya (mutton fry). The reluctant daughter Jyoti (debut actor Amrutha Prem, who comes into her own in the climax) and worried wife (Tara) always trying to tell her husband something, are part of the group that heads to the sylvan forest, framed by a waterfall.

The groom from Bengaluru (Vasuki Vaibhav) and his parents, drawn by the scent of Pandappa’s farmland and property, wait out the ceremony they are least interested in. The father of the groom hopes to eat the ear of the ram, though!

Umesh is the writer of the film too, and he comes up with such a rich tapestry of native humour that also involves scatalogical references, some of which might totally bypass those unfamiliar with the milieu. It’s almost as if the humour is waiting to write itself. One warning: you will never see groundnuts the same way again!

The priest Tammadappa (an utterly natural Ravi Hunsur) has to make numerous trips wading across the water to get to the waterfall from where he must fetch water for the puja. There’s a brief scene the first time he does — and every time he wades in after that, you keep going back to that first scene, and end up smiling.

Throw together a bunch of hungry people who’ve been up from dawn, men waiting to get tipsy and some already tipsy, and you have a heady concoction of people waiting to fly off the handle. Like the woman who acts possessed and asks for curd rice, eats to her heart’s fill, and then is back to normal. The other women are left both hungry and envious!

Into this mix is Pandu’s nephew Chikka (Nagabhushana, who makes a departure from the humorous roles he has been playing), who is the one doing all the running around.

There’s the cook who is angry that there’s no gas stove, and that he has to work with wet twigs and a mutton curry that cannot be cooked because the ram is yet to allow itself to be sacrificed.

And, finally, there’s Pandu who is forced to agree to all kinds of offerings to the goddess, with each member in the group suggesting something to get the ram to shake its head in agreement to the sacrifice. Pandu begs, pleads, and finally gets angry at the goddess for not agreeing to any offering and for still not nodding her head to the wedding.

There’s a bunch of people, and surprisingly, each one of them has a moment so you remember them. Be it the second group of people out to sacrifice a chicken and their generosity in sharing food, or the women chit-chatting and hoping to take back some curry in a steel container. Chikka, for instance, always runs up to a clearing in the forest, where his phone is hanging from a rope, to take calls. And, without it being intrusive, you somehow remember the place and the geography — where the cook sits, where the in-laws sit, and where the men gather to drink.

The cinematography is top-class. Considering most of the film takes place in one forest clearing, you never ever tire of it. SK Rao takes you deep into the slippery jungle slopes, and the play of light and shade is mesmerising. Sunlight falls in slivers, lighting up everything in its path. 

Vasuki Vaibhav is the composer and you get a delightful song ‘Suryakanthi Naanu’ and the energetic title track. ‘Sambanja Annodu’, right at the very end, is another lovely listen, as is ‘Nondkobedave’ (starring Poornachandra Mysore), all with lyrics by Dhananjaya.

Towards the end, Umesh does get into messaging mode, but for a change, when this film finally celebrates farmers, after an initial explanation by Pandu as to why farmers want their children to see the world, you actually buy it, because it’s not someone from the city selling you the concept, but one of their own.

Some of the dialogues in the climax hit a sweet spot — like when Jyoti (meaning flame) speaks about how she’d die down without her large family or that a farmer who feeds the world will definitely feed his family.

The film reminded me of Thithi (2015) in many ways. Just that, this one is on steroids and is relentless. And, strangely, I did not mind it. Because, this is such a fascinating world that you don’t often see on screen. Sometimes, busyness is good too. And, all that green of Tagaru Palya is so good on the eyes. Go watch it for a good laugh, and some food for thought.

Subha J Rao is an entertainment journalist covering Tamil and Kannada cinema and is based out of Mangaluru, Karnataka.

Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.