Four years have passed since actor Pruthvi Ambaar leapt into the spotlight with the heart-wrenching Kannada romantic tragedy, Dia. Ambaar’s ascent in the film industry has been marked by a conscious choice of eclectic and conceptually rich scripts, differing significantly from typical cinematic narratives. This pursuit of distinct storytelling is commendable, signaling that Pruthvi Ambaar could reach impressive heights should he continue to align with filmmakers capable of transforming innovative concepts into captivating films.
Ambaar’s filmography includes diverse roles such as a struggler grappling with diabetes in Sugarless and an exploration of 1980’s television culture in Doordarshan. In Juni, his latest venture, he plays the role of Partha, a chef and café owner whose heart is stolen by Juni, portrayed by Rishika Naik, a sketch artist battling the complexities of dissociative personality disorder. Juni houses multiple personas – the reticent Juni herself, the audacious Mansi, and Chaki, a bolder personality with more traditionally masculine traits and disposition.
Director Vaibhav Madhav introduces to the audience a direct and simplified narrative on dissociative personality disorder, which sets Juni apart from existing Indian cinema that has navigated similar themes of mental health. A poignant moment unfolds onscreen when Juni vulnerably articulates to Partha that her mental condition shouldn’t invoke fear in others. Through this lens, Pruthvi Ambaar portrays a character akin to that in Dia – one that provides support and understanding rather than domination. Ambaar’s performance is both genuine and sensitive, showcasing a man entangled in an unorthodox romance. Debutant Rishika Naik, despite some inconsistencies, commendably handles her multifaceted role, navigating its complexities with aplomb.
Madhav provides compelling backstories for the emergence of Juni’s different personalities but lacking are the nuances and depths afforded to her main persona. Certain sequences intended to depict Mansi’s character fall short and bear an uncanny resemblance to Vikram’s portrayal of personality shifts in the Tamil hit Anniyan.
Regrettably, Juni does not achieve the cinematic scale of S Shankar’s works or the narrative focus seen in Fazil’s Manichitrathazhu. Had the film directed more attention and development toward its secondary characters, especially those assuming significance in the climax, it might have delivered a much rounder cinematic experience. The portrayal of the tumultuous dynamics between Partha’s parents, for example, is treated with a lack of sincerity and emotional depth.
Juni’s grip on the audience loosens when the plot diverts focus from being a female-centric story to centering on the male protagonist, Partha. The film adopts the guise of an average commercial flick, affording the hero an opportunity for self-transformation. This narrative pivot could have been more impactful with proper buildup, enabling viewers to engage more deeply with the protagonist’s journey.
Another challenge Juni faces is its pacing. The film commences at a lethargic speed, ambitiously attempting to weave a feel-good atmosphere between the lead characters. The conflict introduced in the middle builds interest, yet as the story progresses towards the finale, it falters, descending into a pool of melodrama.
Despite its filmmaking missteps, Juni joins the ranks of recent Kannada films like Tatsama Tadbhava and Case of Kondana – movies that shine in parts but fail to coalesce into a compelling whole. They are moderately appreciated, particularly in the OTT landscape, where perhaps expectations are more modest. Nonetheless, cinema-goers who witness Juni’s theatrical run are not likely to feel let down entirely by the experience.
As of now, Juni continues its journey on the silver screen, inviting audiences to witness its unique tale of love and mental health unfold within the vibrant world of Kannada cinema.
