Rana Naidu (Season 2)
Introduction
In cricket, there is a term called a ‘soft dismissal’. It is generally used for a batter who is in good form but a false stroke eventually seals his fate. The second season of Rana Naidu also falls in the category of a soft dismissal, given that it only remains a watered-down followup to the first season. As a quick recall, the first season of Rana Naidu was provocative and filled with expletives featuring an interesting bunch of characters that added so much texture. In fact, the biggest USP of the show remained its casting coup of real-life nephew and uncle (Rana Daggubati and Venkatesh Daggubati), who were literally like chalk and cheese, only to unite during a family crisis. But in an aim (probably) to bring the family audiences (or fans of the superstars) in picture, the punchy expletives are completely done away with. Not sure whether it was the Netflix algorithm doing the talking, or an explicit instruction by the Netflix higher management, but this season definitely falls prey to standard tropes of a thriller, as opposed to surprising the viewers with its provocative language or actions of the characters.
I remember the words of Javed Akhtar in a podcast wherein he states that expletives are like green chilly in food, added to give your food a zing, and but if your food is already tasty, you don’t need them. This made me want to wonder with its writing of the first season too – could the show have created an impact if there were no expletives, while relying just on the writing? The answer to that is directly reflected in its second season that automatically ends up being bland, almost discarding the core demographics in a bid to get the family viewers in. Tch….Tch…
Story & Screenplay
Written by Karan Anshuman, Ryan Soares, Karmanya Ahuja, Ananya Mody, Karan Gour and Vaibhav Vishal, the watered down version of Rana Naidu 2, an official adaptation of Ray Donavan, is clearly compensated by the overstuffed nature of the writing. In other words, there are just so many subplots and characters in play, that not one of them is highlighted properly. At a point, it felt like a never ending episode of a Saas Bahu drama on television (in a different context, ofcourse) that refused to end, in a bid to provide individual arcs for its characters. Here, the beats are familiar but immensely sprawling – you are introduced to Rana Naidu (Rana Daggubati) who takes up one last assignment to secure the finances of his family – his wife Naina (Surveen Chawla), kids, brothers Tej (Sushant Singh) and Jaffa (Abhishek Banerjee). But the opposition transpires in the form of OB Mahajan (Rajesh Jais) under whose shadow, Rana has stepped out of, only to join Viraj Oberoi (Rajat Kapoor), a billionaire who hosts his bickering children Alia (Kriti Kharbanda) and Chirag (Tanuj Virwani), both of whom are at loggerheads for selling the debt-ridden studio and opt for an investment in the Mumbai T20 league. There is also the introduction of a new don Rauf (a solid Arjun Rampal) who vyes for revenge after Rana had foiled his kidnapping spree by killing his cousin.
The subplots don’t end there – Tej wishes to sell his studio and settle with his beloved in Lisbon (the joke of a sounds-like version of Lesbian was just not funny), Jaffa first lusts and later falls for a fight instructor Tasneem (Aditi Shetty), who is reciprocates feelings out of nowhere too. On suspecting Rana’s affair with Alia, Naina also begins an affair with Naveen (Dino Morea) without being aware of his identity. Naina’s daughter Nitya (Afrah Sayed) continues her affair with the rapper from the chawl Rehaan (Bodhisattva Sharma), much to the dismay of Naina. And you have Naga Naidu (Venkatesh Daggubati), a debt-ridden sprawler himself who keeps reappearing in the life and family matters of Rana. Phew, it took me two paragraphs to describe just the skeletal plot-lines, so it does give you a good indication on a ‘khichdi’ that is being cooked here.
The issue that the drama faces here is similar to the third season of Mirzapur (2024). The problem with as many subplots and as many characters is that, there isn’t enough time to explore some of the important plotlines. For instance, the strained relationship between Rana and Naina often feels superficial because there wasn’t enough time given for the viewers to invest in it. Likewise, the dynamics between Rana and Naga is absolutely left to the imagination of the viewers, as opposed to re-establishing it. The thorny relationship doesn’t fully materialize to warrant an argument between the two, and the need of the hour remained to create a fresh conflict in order to incinuate the same.
Some of the other dynamics are moderately interesting and decently watchable, but the manner in which key incidents around them are staged, does make for a further diluted impact. For instance, a random shootout on the streets did not have the similar kind of an impact, because the events leading up to them cut short an interesting simmering dynamic between the characters. In a bid to tell a lot of things, the writing ends up saying nothing. Likewise, the hoopla around the Mumbai T20 league isn’t fully justified given how half-baked its track felt – from a character deciding to invest in it, to a blackmail that ensues following which a certain percentage of the profits would be shared between the character and a ‘fixer’, only for the sequence to be left in the air, while using a strand of it, to trigger a new dynamic. In other words, the writers use these subplots as catalysts to link a shift in the character dynamics between key characters, as opposed to using the central incident as a means for taking the story ahead (these may seem fleeting but minutely different things).
Another drawback with the writing remained its inconsistent tonalities engrained in the drama. For instance in a scene, you see Jaffa staring at Tasneem while fiddling with his manhood, all while the scene is presented to be a comedy. Elsewhere, Jaffa screams on how he had s*x for the very first time, only for the scene to transition into something serious. Nope, it didn’t land emotionally. In a ridiculous sequence, you see Naga and Tej breaking into a corporate building during a heist that goes wrong, all while being presented as a comedy out of nowhere (and wtf was that Netflix joke really?). In another scene, you see parallel sequences intercut between two parallel chases, both being presented as a comedy whereas the emotions immediately prior were something more serious. The inconsistencies are sprinkled throughout, really.
One of the major shortcomings with this overstuffed format remained that many characters are forced to disappear for major chunks in the drama. For instance, the brother-sister conflict of Chirag and Alia is solved in a matter of a few scenes (spread over few episodes), even as the former siddenly disappears in the screenplay. Even for that matter, Rauf, the central antagonist plays a disappearing act only to re-enter with a few kills. The characters of Naveen and OB follow a similar suit too. In fact, the manner of disappearances remain baffling too – Rana and his clan have enough time to hunt down his enemies, spread across three separate sequences, all while a couple of characters lay (near) fatally injured in hospitals. Yes, quite disjointed..quite! And this doubles up as a cliched and convenient plot that the viewers are overtly familiar over the years, something where there is no novelty, just creative bankruptcy (again either that or a Netflix self-induced sabotage). Either way, the screenplay reeks of familiarity while doing away with the shock value, and severely watering-down a good thriller that could have been, which really marks the sorry state of affairs of content on OTT these days. A word to the writers/makers – please fight for your vision (and I know that it may still be falling on the deaf ears of the OTT management), I can almost guarantee that this wasn’t the original vision of Rana Naidu Season 2.
Dialogues, Music & Direction
The dialogues without expletives aren’t provocative enough while just appearing to be meek shadows of the first season, even while fighting for their own identity. The BGM is peppy and atleast works in few parts of the show, particularly in mass-induced sequences which by the way, also are inducted as a part of fan-service (but OTT pe kaahe ka fan-service bhai?; Pardon my Hindi). The cinematography featuring frames with neon-lights and red-coloured lights feel gimmicky after a point wherein all the sequences start to have the same look and feel. A few moments of brilliant occurs in the form of the camera movement outside a building that simply navigates in a downward stretch while Rana beats the pulp out of a few extra. This, while sprawling the camera angle in an upward spiral in the very next shot. Other than that, the camerawork doesn’t engage while further diluting the impact of key scenes in the narrative.
The editing is too sharp at times, while refusing to hold the moment in a barter to create an aura of suspense around the already familiar trappings of the scene. Directors Karan Anshuman, Suparn Varma and Abhay Chopra manage to do a fair job but the direction never rises above the written material at any given point. Some of the staging in key sequences are decent, but they don’t particularly elevate the drama. For instance, the introduction of the character of Rauf was such an anti-climax given that nothing substantial transpires from it. As opposed to say, introducing him in the same menacing way in the jail sequence (his very next scene), that would have made so much more sense given the threat that he imposes on Rana in that moment. Hiccups like these are interspersed throughout the season, that make the direction decent but nothing extraordinary.
Performances
The performances remain a mixed bag, some due to the written material, and others for the flat nature of the acts. Tanuj Virwani as Chirag manages to hold his own with a typical SoBo-accent that speaks volumes of his entitlement. But, the character itself is woefully underwritten, leaving a talented performer like Tanuj to never fully bloom. Tenzin Dalha as Arjun, Samarth Shandilya as Toofan and Bodhisattva Sharma as Rehaan are talented performers who are just used as fillers here. Same is the case with performers like Flora Saini, Himanshu Malhotra, Lauren Robinson, Adithya Menon, Heeba Shah, Ishita Arun and Rajesh Jais, who remain missing for most parts of the drama while only ‘integrating’ them in the plotpoints. Kriti Kharbanda as Alia is woefully underpar in a performance that just doesn’t land, and much of it has to do with the weirdly coded SoBo (South Bombay) accent that had me annoyed. Rajat Kapoor as Viraj is dignified with his act but has very little to do here, apart from that one marquee sequence that doesn’t have a large bearing on the plot. Madhav Dhingra as Ani is alright but nothing much to shout about.
Afrah Sayed as Nitya is sincere and she manages to land emotions of shock, pain and angst pretty well. Dino Morea as Naveen looks charming and manages to impress, but his disappearing act for chunks of passages in the drama is a bummer. The one of the distinct shining lights in the drama remains Aditi Shetty who is fabulous to witness as Tasneem. There is a spring in her step that makes her character infectious, while allowing you space to invest in her emotions too. Abhishek Banerjee as Jaffa continues his sublime form as a performer, by tapping into the naive and innocent space of his character, rather effectively. He was a delight to witness here. Sushant Singh as Tej is once again pretty solid with his performance, that he holds his own and stands out amidst the crowd.
Surveen Chawla as Naina is poetry on celluloid. She carries her good form from Criminal Justice Season 4, and makes a lasting impact despite the writing not fully exploring the vulnerabilities and insecurities of her character. Arjun Rampal as Rauf delivers an outstanding performance here. He is menacing and intimidating with a body language that will send shivers down your spine. He clearly is having a ball here (or should I say ‘Bat’?, sorry moving on), and it was a treat to witness him onscreen, in a performance that overshadows most folks.
This brings me to the curious case of the uncle-nephew duo who had previously won our hearts in Rana Naidu Season 1. The creative decision on mellowing the language and thereby reducing the distinct voice of the show, has a direct impact on the characters of Rana Naidu and Naga Naidu, two Hyderabadi fixers in Mumbai. Suddenly, Rana Daggubati’s performance feels bland, almost sleep-walking through his role without any fire or impulse to back the raw-energy that he once possessed. And Venkatesh Daggubati is literally treated as a caricature from a character that once had texture and a personality. This time, there is no aura, there is no spice, there is only frivolous energy that greets you, in a performance that is immensely forgettable. I hope the makers get their acts together with respect to both characters, should they opt for a third season.
Conclusion
The second season of Rana Naidu is a woefully watered-down followup to the first season, packaged in an inconsistent and overstuffed drama with watchable but sanitized beats, that felt kind of pointless. When the voice of the show is modified, the result remains something as bland as this. Available on Netflix.
