Imagine meeting Kumar Abbavaram, the lead character in ‘K Ramp,’ portrayed by Kiran Abbavaram. You’d likely hope it’s a one-time encounter. He’s a privileged, entitled young man, born with every advantage, who sees no point in education because his family is already wealthy. His aspirations are simple: donning a lungi, enjoying local beer with friends at a bar, and dancing to popular tunes.
When Kumar sets his sights on Mercy (Yukti Thareja), his declaration of affection isn’t a simple ‘I love you.’ Instead, he proudly proclaims, ‘Naa Peru Abbavaram… Istha neeku varam,’ implying he’s bestowing a favor upon her. He even refers to her as a ‘heavy figure,’ supposedly for her generous spirit in rescuing him from drunken escapades. Unsurprisingly, his father eventually loses patience and dispatches him to Kerala.
The film also features Kumar’s uncle, portrayed by Naresh, a character who embodies problematic behavior, often ogling women and making inappropriate advances. In one bizarre scene, he even pursues a woman whose touch inexplicably gives him an electric shock—a cringe-worthy, lust-fueled reimagining of a popular cinematic trope.
Remarkably, despite Kumar’s deeply flawed personality, the film never portrays him as the issue. Instead, it attempts to paint him as a victim, entrapped by a young woman grappling with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). After dedicating the first half to showcasing the ‘hero’s’ questionable traits and drunken adventures, the plot abruptly shifts focus to the woman’s ‘trust issues’ – a narrative twist accompanied by a flashback designed to evoke cheap sentiment.
K Ramp (Telugu)
Mercy’s character is shown resorting to self-harm as a trigger response, threatening suicide whenever someone fails to keep a promise. In a shockingly irresponsible scene, when they consult a doctor about her condition, the physician suggests to Mercy’s uncle, ‘If a plan doesn’t go her way, why doesn’t the entire family threaten suicide to gauge her reaction?’ This portrayal of mental health is not just absurd but deeply offensive.
While the film ostensibly centers on Kumar’s journey to understand Mercy’s fragile mental state, the second half unfortunately transforms him into a ‘saint’ for merely empathizing with her. The only real respite from the convoluted plot comes from a comedic subplot featuring Vennela Kishore, whose exasperated, sarcastic remarks perfectly echo the audience’s mounting frustration.
Between its clumsy attempts to lecture on mental health and its blatant mockery of the female protagonist’s struggles, the film maintains an inexplicable fixation on women’s midriffs. Director Jains Nani even includes a scene where ice and hot sambar are used to compare two women’s waistlines. Marketed as a family entertainer, ‘K Ramp’ is frankly embarrassing in its casual misogyny, disguised as humor.
If the filmmakers intended to simply rehash Maruthi’s well-worn formula of situational comedies built around a character’s health condition, they utterly failed to do so with any sincerity. Kumar’s character seems to be an unfortunate echo of past films that mistakenly romanticized problematic male behavior.
It was hoped that Kiran Abbavaram was embarking on a path of course correction after last year’s ‘KA,’ but ‘Dilruba’ and ‘K Ramp’ unfortunately suggest a continued desperation to achieve ‘mass hero’ status, rather than focusing on developing his acting skills. Yukti Thareja is given little to do in a role that reduces her to a mere victim, appearing largely lost. Naresh’s character, while delivered with the actor’s usual comic flair, portrays a complete lack of aging with grace, opting instead for cringe-inducing antics.
Actors like Sai Kumar and Muralidhar Goud deliver sincere performances despite being saddled with unremarkable roles. Chaitan Bharadwaj’s musical score is entirely unmemorable, and the cinematography often stoops to indulging the perverse elements of the main characters through awkward camera angles.
‘K Ramp’ might pretend to address a health issue, but its true failing lies in Telugu cinema’s persistent insensitivity towards mental health and its troubling tendency to glorify perverse male protagonists.