Director - Ananth Mahadevan 
Cast: Pratik Gandhi, Patralekha, Vinay Pathak, Suresh Vishwakarma, Darsheel Safary, and others
Writer - Ananth Mahadevan and Muazzam Beg
Duration – 139 minutes 

Phule sets out with a noble mission: to honor the legacy of two of India’s most courageous and forward-thinking reformers, Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule. Visionaries, educators, and social revolutionaries, their lives are ripe for a powerful cinematic retelling. And while Ananth Mahadevan’s film hits the right emotional chords at times and deserves applause for even attempting such a project, it doesn’t always rise to the stature of its subjects.
 
The film opens amidst the bleak horror of the Great Plague in Pune, with Savitribai (Patralekha) working at the grassroots, offering aid to the sick and the dying. It’s a strong and empathetic entry point, one that immediately positions her not just as a historical figure, but a humanist in action. From there, the story rewinds to her early marriage to Jyotiba (Pratik Gandhi) and their journey from a traditional couple to partners in rebellion against caste oppression and patriarchy.
 
Mahadevan’s direction shows a clear reverence for the material. The film carries the weight of its subject with dignity and sincerity. And in many moments—like Savitribai confronting casteist bullies with unflinching resolve, or Jyotiba’s stirring speech in a courtroom—the film breathes life into the era, reminding us why the Phules matter even today.
 
But despite its heart being in the right place, Phule often struggles to find a compelling rhythm. The screenplay, while thorough in its historical coverage, feels overstuffed. In its eagerness to include every key event and achievement of the Phules, the narrative becomes more of a checklist than a cohesive story. This makes the film feel longer than it is, and by the time the third act arrives, there’s little dramatic tension left to sustain interest.
 
Pratik Gandhi, who has shown incredible range in the past, delivers a grounded performance but occasionally slips into theatricality. Patralekha as Savitribai has the more emotionally complex role and gives it an earnest portrayal, though the writing doesn’t always offer her the space to explore Savitribai’s inner life fully. Supporting performances, especially from Vinay Pathak and Suresh Vishwakarma, help round out the world with texture and gravity.
 
Technically, the film is solid. The production design does a fine job evoking 19th-century Maharashtra without feeling stagey. The costuming and sets carry an authenticity that helps immerse us in the time period. Rohan-Rohan’s music is serviceable, but rarely elevates the emotional beats it’s meant to underscore.
 
Where Phule falters most is in its storytelling style—it wants to educate, but forgets to engage. The emotional resonance gets diluted by its over-reliance on exposition. Rather than letting us live with these characters, the film often tells us who they were through long speeches and historic recreations, leaving little room for quiet, revelatory moments.
 
Phule is a well-intentioned and necessary film that shines a long-overdue spotlight on two of India’s greatest reformers. While its execution lacks the narrative finesse to make it truly memorable cinema, its subject matter is so powerful that it still manages to inform and inspire. A tighter script and a more character-driven approach could’ve turned this into a landmark biopic. As it stands, Phule is a respectful tribute that’s worthy of being seen—but one that stops just short of being deeply felt.