In *Super Subbu*, Mallik Ram reveals himself to be a consumer of low-quality Reels and memes—a fact evident in his dated sense of humor. Here are a few examples: a remote control stops working just as a condom commercial starts on TV; a husband buys an iPhone for his wife by selling a kidney; and "Study Material" is the name of the folder where porn videos are hidden on a USB drive.
These are the kinds of jokes teenagers tell each other with shy giggles, delighting in their own juvenile naughtiness. A movie like *Welcome to the Jungle* references other scenes and films to wink at the audience, inviting them to point at the screen just like Leonardo DiCaprio in that meme from *Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood*. Ram attempts a similar effect with his unoriginal, tired gags—hence bits like the iPhone-and-kidney story or the "Study Material" folder.
Stars: Mahesh Yadav Chintala, Mithila Palkar, Sundeep Kishan
But perhaps Ram’s biggest problem is that he throws too many ideas out there without managing to make any of them stick with style or competence. He is a man of ideas. He stuffs *Super Subbu* with a premise about sex education, mixed with scraps of conventional romance. The film tackles the stigma surrounding actors and sex workers, the exploitation of aspiring actors by directors, unwanted pregnancy and abortion, and the way men define their masculinity through their libido. All these elements serve as social messages wrapped in a package of third-rate jokes.
Ram leaves these concepts half-baked; instead of developing them gradually and logically, he scatters them chaotically, hoping his "humor" will mask his ineptitude. After attending just one session with Subbu Sir (Sundeep Kishan), three or four women learn the principle that "no means no" and wield it against their horny husbands—women who have spent years living in the patriarchal village of Makhipur. Even if they are unhappy being treated as sexual objects by their husbands, what Subbu tells them should strike them as extremely radical.
It is not something people in their situation can adopt overnight. Those three or four women spread the "no means no" stance among the others, yet Ram does not show that conversation—which would likely have been marked by tense arguments. Instead, he simply suggests that they all quickly embraced the idea and that, that very night, they all refused to have sex with their husbands. For Ram, this is a humorous and simplistic scene. He omits any trace of opposition or violence from the men who view their wives as sexual playthings.
He is more interested in capping off the situation with the image of disappointed men sitting in the dark, lamenting the pleasure they failed to obtain. How does this "no means no" policy affect marital relationships in the village? What changes does it bring to the rural domestic sphere? To what extent does it alter power dynamics? In one episode, a man and a woman attend a couples therapy session; afterwards, the woman shows the man how to make love to her and how to hold her hand.
The man clearly experiences something different, and news of the benefits of couples therapy spreads through the village. However, Ram again omits how these sessions impact the rest of the community. What behavioral changes do they spark in these relationships, and how long does it take for the residents of Makhipur to adapt to them? We do not see the scene where men and women—whether individually or in groups—discuss the positive (or negative) impact of Subbu’s lessons.
For Ram, these moments are simply boxes to be ticked—literally so, given that Subbu crosses off agenda items on the chalkboard with chalk. Topics such as family planning, birth control, and couples therapy are resolved through a quick montage. For a moment, it seems as though Subbu—much like Otis in *Sex Education*—will use his knowledge to help characters in a bind, but Ram abandons this idea almost as quickly as he introduces it.
It is ironic that a series aiming to normalize conversations about sex—presenting them as a natural part of human existence to be approached with maturity—is executed with a puerile tone, featuring gags like the one where two men show up at a sex worker’s home with a marriage proposal, leading to double entendres and misunderstandings. It is also disconcerting that this show about sex education reinforces the juvenile notion that virgins are losers, while those who aren't—or men with great sexual stamina—are studs or idols. This premise is never challenged.
What kind of series was Ram trying to create here? His approach is completely erratic: *Super Subbu* is a clumsy, embarrassing disaster. When Subbu first arrives in Makhipur, a woman stares at him with a suggestive smile. Later, she appears out of nowhere at a temple and offers him a coin for his offering. That is the moment one begins to wonder if she is a supernatural entity and if only Subbu can see her. Ram plants this doubt in the viewer's mind, only to resort to a stupid, ill-conceived plot twist—something that, at this stage of the series, should come as no surprise to anyone.
Furthermore, the relationship between Subbu and Divya (Manasa Chowdary) lacks the development needed to be convincing or to spark genuine interest in the couple. I was struck by Ram's confidence: he expects us to be moved by the ups and downs of this contrived romance. The only saving graces are two or three brief, passable jokes—such as the one where kerosene is mistaken for Crocin, or when a wife threatens to hang herself from a table fan. Otherwise, *Super Subbu* is the exact opposite of "super": it is deadly boring.
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