Baahubali 2: The Conclusion, KGF Chapter 2... Ponniyin Selvan 2: Golden Age of sequels and prequels in Indian cinema

Director S.S. Rajamouli's Baahubali 2 released in theatres on April 28, 2017 - some two years after the first Baahubali film came out. Never before, perhaps, had an Indian film attempted ending on a cliff-hanger as opposed to the usual catharsis.

Days after the release of Baahubali: The Beginning in April of 2015, there was one question on everyone’s mind – ‘Baahubali ko Katapaa ne kyun maara?’ It was discussed on local trains, exchanged as part of social media banter and even whisked into WhatsApp conversations for the occasional, comic detour. It was a unique moment because never before perhaps, had a film attempted the unthinkable: end on a cliff-hanger as opposed to the usual catharsis. S.S. Rajamouli’s gamble of turning a mammoth story into a two-part cinematic marathon, survived, soared and set a sort of creative precedent. Years later, episodic film projects have become commonplace. As the second part of Ponniyin Selvan, Mani Ratnam’s epic, though unwieldly adaptation of Kalki’s novel, gears up for release, it is worth evaluating if this trend is Indian cinema’s moment of ingenuity or a fad that will pass, as soon as it begins to flunk.

The episodic structure of connecting one film to the other, isn’t exactly novel, but it has to an extent been universalised by Marvel’s barrage of post-credit scenes that remember to dangle a carrot just in case the rats decide they’ve had enough of the decade long pile-up of superhero shtick. The ending of Ponniyin Selvan: Part 1, apes this trope by first suggesting an accusation, and then abdicating it with a late tease. Nandini (Aishwarya Rai), the potential nemesis of this massive story appears to be in two places at once. The intent is obviously to confuse, inject suspicion and push people to speculate about the what as opposed to Baahubali’s why (kyun maara). It’s a fairly simple trick, though still not on par with the former’s head-spinning, punch to the gut moment that no one saw coming.

Marvel’s last two Avengers films have set the bar for episodic scale, pursuing not just loosely connected stories but impossibly sprawling narratives that must connect, overlap and even borrow from a crowd of acting juggernauts. It’s easier, however, to manufacture episodic stories in this context, owing to the global penetration of comic books and familiarity with the source material. Things are trickier when the landscape is new, the characters fresh and only a couple of hours your best shot at endearing them to an unsuspecting public. Yash’s KGF, for example, uses a different route to expand the universe, building on its foundational story, rather than relying on a twist to reel people into a second viewing. A similar device was most recently also employed by Ayan Mukherji’s yuppie, erratically written Brahmastra: Part One (parts 2 and 3 are slated for release in December 2026 and December 2027, respectively).

There is obviously economics at play here. Two successful films are better than one. The model also allows filmmakers to explore subjects that might have previously been considered too large for diminishing attention spans. Duration, it turns out, is not the problem if the film is good. Come to think of it, this episodic format might have helped Ashutosh Gowariker with the laboured, and overlong Jodhaa Akbar, that grappled to earn its ‘epic’ status as opposed to yet carefully embracing it. The multi-part model also seems to embolden the creator’s reputation for a change, drawing away from the stars in front of the camera and showering light on the impresarios making it happen, across several hours of make-believe historical scale and literary accuracy.

The problem with this latest trend, however, is that franchise-hungry studios might already be scouring scripts and creators who create lavish circuses rather than nifty, lithe, stories. Nimble and modest stories might be inflated, so they can be dragged over the two-hour mark just so a second, cash-reaping instalment can be summoned into existence. It’s a risk that Ponniyin Selvan, it’s incredibly large and varied canvas in tow, has already undertaken by attempting to condense a story spread impossibly wide. Understandably then, it is being released within a year of the release of the first instalment because retention, in the age of several such projects clamouring for attention, is increasingly becoming rare. Better to bombard the viewer, while his mind isn’t occupied by the new cinematic multi-part project on the block.

The success of episodic cinema has set the tone for a curious present, where filmmakers are possibly chasing worlds rather than stories; approaching cinema with the entrepreneurial mind-set of building a business, with subsidiaries and spin-offs as opposed to a singular story that endeavours to do it all, at once. Ponniyin Selvan 1, it is now rumoured, will have a re-release before the second part premieres – exposing yet another structural ambiguity that can exploited (multiple releases). Like any other business, money has to be spent to make money, but here the temptation is too big to avoid lustfully hauling yourself into the depthless mixer that is now the ‘pan India’ pipeline. There will of course, as there have already been, box-office disasters, franchise fatigue, etc., but in the longer run there is at least this tangible fallout of losing Ratnam’s deft, innovative spirit with something as tender and innovative as Dil Se... to something as grand, chaotic and possibly un-Ratnam-like in Ponniyin Selvan.