In a country where dividing people in the name of religion is still easy, the message of education as a unifying force becomes all the more powerful. The closing dialogue of Phule hits hard: “It is important to educate people in this country.” And when you hear this, you marvel at the foresight of Jyotiba Phule — a man who, over 125 years ago, ignited a revolution that still echoes today.

If the women in your family — your mother, your wife, your daughter — have access to education, it is because of the seeds sown by this remarkable man and his equally courageous wife, Savitribai Phule. Phule is not a film driven by punches and chases, but by ideas, resistance, and courage. It’s not your typical commercial thriller, but what it offers is deeply moving, necessary, and real. This is the kind of cinema that keeps the soul of the art — and of our society — alive.

Plot: A Story That Changed Generations

Phule chronicles the life and revolutionary journey of Mahatma Jyotiba Phule and his wife, Savitribai Phule — pioneers of women’s education in India. At a time when educating girls was taboo, when child marriage and untouchability were societal norms, they dared to dream of a more equal world. Despite enormous resistance, Jyotiba first educated Savitribai and then fought to open schools for girls. This film captures their struggle, their fire, and their unwavering belief in the power of knowledge. It is a film that deserves to be experienced on the big screen.

Film Review: Slow Yet Powerful, Honest and Heartfelt

Phule may feel slow to some, but that’s intentional — it mirrors the era it portrays. The 19th-century setting is treated with reverence, and yet the narrative is engaging enough to keep your attention throughout. The film doesn’t flinch from exposing the horrors of caste discrimination, child marriage, and regressive traditions. It portrays the heartbreaking resistance faced by reformers with a brutal honesty that makes you reflect on where we’ve come from — and how far we still have to go.

You leave the theatre with pride that such heroes walked among us, and a sense of responsibility to continue their legacy. It’s not “entertainment” in the typical sense — but it is essential viewing.

Performances: A National Award-Worthy Triumph

Pratik Gandhi delivers what could easily be called the best performance of his career. Known for his versatility, he completely disappears into the role of Jyotiba Phule, portraying the visionary leader from youth to old age with stunning depth and grace. You forget all his past roles — he is Jyotiba.

Patralekha, too, delivers a career-defining performance. From her expressions to her attire, she embodies Savitribai Phule with sincerity and strength. One particularly powerful scene, where she stands up to a man threatening her husband, is a defining moment of the film — and perhaps, a symbolic moment of the birth of women’s empowerment in India.

Patralekha has long been underutilized by mainstream Bollywood, and Phule is proof of her immense talent. She deserves a National Award — not just for this role, but as recognition of the depth she brings to the screen.

Supporting actors do justice to their roles as well, transporting you convincingly to an era of turbulence and transformation.

Direction: Thoughtful and Impactful Storytelling

Directed by Anant Mahadevan, Phule is both sensitive and compelling. Mahadevan, known for his acting, proves once again that he’s a master behind the camera too. After The Storyteller, he continues his journey of meaningful cinema with this heartfelt film. The screenplay, co-written with Muazzam Beg, is tightly woven and avoids unnecessary preaching. It educates without overwhelming — a rare balance in such biographical dramas.

Music: Emotionally Resonant and Memorable

Composers Rohan Pradhan and Rohan Gokhale have given the film a musical soul. The songs don’t just accompany the story; they elevate it. Every note hits you in the heart and stays with you long after you’ve left the theatre.

Films like Phule are rare, and they are necessary — because if we stop watching them, we risk losing them. And losing them would mean losing the soul of our cinema — and of our society.