Liger review | All roar, no bite

Vijay Deverakonda plays a mixed martial arts genius. Yet the marital arts action is heavily tempered by special effects in the film, so there’s no real fighter with sinews beyond his body in sight in 'Liger'.

A liger is a cross between a male lion and a female tiger. True to his name, the eponymous mixed martial arts genius that Vijay Deverakonda plays in Puri Jagannadh’s film Liger is beastly in every sense—literally, in his roar and bluster punctuated by a stutter he is born with, and in the way he sees the world.

Liger’s mother Balamani (Ramya Krishnan) and he, tea-sellers and surviving family of a legendary mixed martial arts (MMA) fighter, land up in Mumbai from Varanasi so that Liger can train under a famous MMA coach (Ronit Roy) who was once defeated by Liger’s father. He meets Tanya (Ananya Pandey), a wealthy, simpering influencer with terrible fashion sense, by accident, but seeing Liger’s ground and pound, she falls helplessly in love with the man, seemingly far removed from her world but in the film’s willfully illogical narrative scheme, we should have no reason to question her hot pursuit of his biceps and curls. Incidentally, Tanya is the sister of Liger’s rival fighter—just one of many weak attempts in Jagannadh’s screenplay to dramatise the plot.

The marital arts action is heavily tempered by special effects, so there’s no real fighter with sinews beyond his body in sight in Liger, but the refrain that runs through the film, hyper-articulated by Liger’s coach and mother, is the idea that the only catalyst for a man’s downfall is women. Balamani is especially fond of using the word “chudail” to warn her son that to realise their dream of him becoming the best MMA fighter in the world, he has to be “chudail”-free. The film’s take on straight gender dynamics is shockingly regressive.

So the most beastly thing about this film, made heavy Telugu pulp style, is not just Deverakonda’s statuesque physique and unruly mop of hair or even his raspy stutter or ear-splitting roar, but its primitive premise. The film is shot simultaneously in Telugu and Hindi, with some really awkward translations in Hindi, presumably with the purpose of a crossover that will be meaningful at the box office. The makers manage a cameo by Mike Tyson, who looks suitably confused and clueless by Liger’s hyperbolic universe. The music and songs choreographed in exotic locations (the Mumbai seashores look a lot like Bangkok getaways sometimes) are replicas of bad 1990s’ style of filming songs.

It is safe to conclude desperate crossover attempts between South and Bollywood cinema are failed enterprises if authentic storytelling and believable characters don’t accompany box office ambitions. Devarakonda has the swagger of a testosterone bomb but has no consistence in his impersonation of either the lover or the fighter. The authority figures, the coach and the mom, are hectoring motormouths. The rival villain is beefy and stupid. And the heroine who does the real difficult crossover in the film from her cushy Barbie Doll life of selfie parties to Liger’s ring of roaring fights is a dispensable squeak in the story. Pandey is pat in this role—a big stoop from her performance in Gehraiyaan earlier this year.

Liger is an example of how cringe-worthy big Bollywood can get to resuscitate ticket sales. This attempt is out-and-out a lost case of such desperation.

Liger is in theatres in Hindi and Telugu.