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| Ranbir Kapoor as Ranvijay in a still from Sandeep Reddy Vanga's ANIMAL. |
A heady, venom-laced film. If you wish to drink poison, go watch it. This feature, steeped in rage and grotesquery, is almost an instant classic. Miles ahead of most Indian films of its time. Director Sandeep Reddy Vanga leaves an audacious signature here—unflinching commitment, obsession, and high-octane energy for his idea. The film seems to throw a lewd gesture at political correctness, film critics, and progressives—right at the beginning and end.
Animal has many shades.
Adults in society silently perpetrate violence on children and then wonder where the criminals emerge from. We saw this in the brilliant and brutal Korean film Silenced. We see it here too. Balbir Singh (Anil Kapoor), shocked and furious, yells at his wife, “We have raised a criminal.” But he didn’t just become one. One night, Balbir enters his adolescent son’s room to find him asleep holding a letter. It reads:
"In the next birth, you become my son, and I’ll be your father. Then I’ll teach you how to love. And in the next life, again be my father and love me just the same.”
This child is desensitized—waiting endlessly for a father's love that never arrives, growing up amidst ugly wealth, entitlement, and various forms of violence. He’s beaten by his father, struck by his teacher for trivial reasons. There's a spine-chilling scene where Balbir slaps teenage Ranvijay over and over. But like Dara from Bambai Meri Jaan, who feels nothing anymore, this boy too shows no pain. He grows up to become an animal. At one point, he says, “You are not the greatest father, but I am the greatest son in the world.”
But the film’s thoughtful notes end here. From here, it pivots toward its true aim—constructing a beast named “Man” onscreen, in all his savagery. So that the audience may be drawn in, intoxicated, and immersed in the spectacle.
The early monkey tale in the film may hint that the characters in Animal are so wild that trying to reason with them is futile. Just like his wife tries to reason with him—and fails. She argues logically. He argues irrationally. He claims to be a man of integrity. At the beginning, he says, “No other woman will ever enter my life.” We believe he'll stand by this. But then, a twist—he breaks the vow, sleeps with another woman, and confesses it to his wife. She says, “If you sleep with another woman, I’ll sleep with another man.” He replies, “I won’t let another man even come near you.” She asks for a divorce—he refuses. So, he is not a man of integrity. His women get entangled in the thorns of his love but are never set free. He locks them up in the prison of his obsession. Before heading off to war, he tells his wife, “Don’t remarry after I’m gone.”
Watching the film, one wonders if Vanga is suggesting that such animals should never be born. That our society should never be so insensitive, our parenting never so brutal as to turn children into beasts. But then, these characters are also glamorized. Then again, the director wants to be bold—don’t shackle me with political correctness, let me paint freely, tell stories uninhibitedly. Let me create entertaining, intoxicating cinema—earn money and become immortal.
We’ve only heard stories of Angulimala. Watching this film gives you a visceral, visual sense of what he might’ve been. Even that inch-deep sense is monumental. The protagonist of Animal is a monster. And then, a greater monster—his own version—appears in the end credits, to be seen in the sequel Animal Park.
A priest who hears confessions from all kinds of sinners ends up vomiting after meeting him. Sweating, shaking, the priest tells someone, “He’s a Satan. I declare today. He’s a destructive force.”
Is this a reference to Shiva the Destroyer? The film is made by Bhadrakali Pictures, Vanga’s own production house. Bhadrakali—the fierce and furious goddess. Her husband Veerbhadra—a terrifying avatar of Shiva. Their children—feral like them. Is this the philosophical wellspring of Vanga’s stories?
Ranvijay is a character with strong opinions about everything. Some are empty boasts, some spoken with seriousness.
He represents the idea of an alpha male—rooted in barbaric, primal times. The film takes its title literally—Animal.
He says, “When weak men felt jealous of the alpha, that’s when poetry was born.” Like: I’ll bring the moon for you. But he’s no poet. He’s a man—like Jacky from Michael Roskam’s brilliant Belgian crime drama Bullhead, a man loaded with animal hormones. When he meets Geetanjali, he sizes her up as coming from a good, simple family. Says, “You have a big pelvis. You’ll bear healthy babies.” As if that’s the sole purpose of human life. A primitive, physical notion. While the world has evolved, this character is arrested in devolution.
Geetanjali (Rashmika) is not a wise, discerning woman. First, she agrees to marry a guy she met just a week ago. Then, after hearing Ranvijay’s “alpha male” and “a friend of your brother is not your brother” speech, she’s so impressed that she breaks off her engagement to marry him. Later, she regrets it deeply. He pulls the elastic of her bra even after repeated refusals, leaving bruises on her back. While applying ointment, she recalls the past: “When I found out someone harassed your sister and you brought a gun to school, I felt the firing should never stop. If someone ever touched me, I wondered what you'd do to them. But now, you scare me.” Geetanjali didn’t know—he who brings extreme pleasure also brings extreme pain.
At one point, the director even links the central character’s traits with Hitler. Perhaps even justifies them? Balbir Singh’s company is named “Swastik.” Motto: Strength, Progress, Victory. When Ranvijay returns after the attack on his father and finds laborers sitting idle and his brother-in-law sidelining him, is he the post-WWI Hitler? Humiliated by the Treaty of Versailles, craving vengeance, and then mesmerizing the Germans with fiery speeches? Ranvijay dons worker’s clothes, stands at a mic with the Swastik symbol behind—a chilling resemblance. He even raises his fist like Hitler. Just in case we miss the reference, the director repeats the motif in a later scene. Ranvijay quips, “Hope no one thinks I’m Hitler. That’s a Swastik, not a Nazi symbol. There’s a difference.” Though it’s said humorously, the metaphor remains: Ranvijay carries a Hitler-like animal streak.
A major scene shows Ranvijay building a mammoth machine gun, KGF-style. His Maharashtrian supplier (Upendra Limaye) says: “Conceived in Delhi, manufactured in Bangalore, assembled in Maharashtra. 100% Made in India. Aatmanirbhar Bharat.” Animal is a powerful sample of self-reliant Indian cinema in the violent, grotesque genre. Even after everything’s been done, see how we innovate. Inspired by Korean cinema’s knife, blade, hatchet bloodbaths—like the stunning final fight in The Man From Nowhere. Similarly, there's a hotel corridor scene with the song Arjun Vailly where Ranvijay, armed with an axe, slaughters mask-wearing men—a visually stunning scene by Indian film standards.
Sandeep's inspiration for such harsh, violent storytelling comes from South Indian films like Paruthiveeran, raw and thorny. And for Animal, from Korean films too. Ranbir’s Ranvijay is like the aghori from Naan Kadavul. He believes neither in society nor in the system, law, political correctness, morality or immorality (even if he pretends to be moral, he isn’t).
He’s unstable too. At times excessively violent. At others, he says, “I did everything in full control.” If he fires a machine gun at school to scare older boys, he says it was only to scare them. If you ask why a machine gun, the director might say, “Because his bodyguard had that weapon only. If something else was around, he’d have used that.” He threatens his sister’s husband, even does something. He spares the life of a spy who leaks enemy secrets. Yet he doesn’t use protection while sleeping with her—meaning, he didn’t just do it for information, but also for pleasure. He breaks his vow of fidelity.
One may even think—this film shouldn’t have been made. But every devil needs to be born.
This is a story of an alpha male, and it's only for alpha males. There’s no space for women in this world, nor is this film for them. If a female viewer relishes this kind of storytelling then this film is for you, most certainly. Ranvijay tells his father Balbir, “In the next life, I’ll be your father and teach you how to love.” Similarly, one wishes Vanga is born as a woman in his next life—and then watches his own films.
The other aspect—if a wise person reads into it—is that the film is also showing how men have turned this world vile, violent, and ugly. And women—terrified and scarred—are merely surviving its blood-soaked spectacle. Ranvijay loves his mother—she defends him—but she has no real presence. Neither do his sisters. Nor his wife. Nor his lover. They are all insignificant.
But for the unaware audience, this is an intoxicant. A filthy high. They’ll laugh and dance at things no civilized, sensitive person should.
But this film isn’t just about ideas. It is a cinematic language. It’s visual storytelling. When the hashed version of “Roja Jaaneman” comes in like a delicate, impactful drizzle, it becomes one of the film’s most intoxicating elements. Stylish. And it feels like a tribute to Mani Ratnam’s cinema (Roja), as if Sandeep Reddy Vanga is saying — I place cinematic language and ambition first, and ideas later.
In a non-ideological and purely visual/cinematic sense, this is a remarkable film — a classic and a new reference point. Its background score is one of the all-time best. It’s one of the film’s greatest strengths. Words fall short in its praise. The editing is super bold. Lethal. Among the all-time best in cinema. The way the story cuts and connects — I can’t remember the last time I saw something this daring on the big screen. For instance, Bobby Deol’s entry scene, where Ranbir’s shot is playing above and Bobby’s frame enters from below — there are several such moments. The editing is done by Vanga himself. This is something beyond ambiguity — he now ranks among the best editors in the world.
The acting is phenomenal. For me, this felt like the first film in Ranbir Kapoor’s career where his acting comes through in the most powerful way. The socialist, beloved Raj Kapoor must be squirming in his grave watching this avatar of his grandson.
Bobby Deol has done sweet films like Kareeb, and successful entertainers like Bichhoo and Soldier. But he was never taken seriously. He remained Sunny Deol’s younger brother. But Animal is the best work of his career. His character Abrar, in his intro scene, looks like a dancing demon. Bobby is no longer Sunny’s younger brother — now Sunny is Bobby’s elder brother. And Indian cinema has found a new actor.
We spoke of Angulimala in the beginning. Every Angulimala’s story must end with the Buddha. Animal is only the beginning, and Animal Park may not be the end. But whenever this story does end, let it end with the Buddha.
