At the end of Maa Inti Bangaaram (MIB), I kept thinking about what it could have been had the team gone all out with its blend of action entertainer and family drama. Telugu cinema rarely presents a sari-clad female protagonist who can deliver punches powerful enough to send shivers down the spines of thugs. That role belongs to actor-producer Samantha Ruth Prabhu, who once again makes her action sequences convincing. The audience cheers during the high moments; that kind of stardom is earned over time.

Samantha's third outing with director Nandini Reddy, co-produced by Raj Nidimoru, has plenty going for it. Parts of the film are genuinely enjoyable, blending humour, subtle social commentary and action. It remains immensely watchable but falls well short of being a standout.

The chinks in the armour lie in the writing. Raj Nidimoru, Vasanth Maringanti and Sita Menon, who lead the writing team, rework a mass-action template usually reserved for male stars. There are echoes of Rajinikanth’s Baashha — a framework overused in Tamil and Telugu cinema — with shades of A History of Violence and Vijay’s Leo. This is hardly a spoiler since the film's promos have already laid out the broad contours of the story. Place a female protagonist, who yearns for domestic bliss even as her violent past threatens to expose her, at the centre of this template and you have the makings of a winner.

MIB's title cards, designed with traditional muggu motifs and illustrations sourced from the family of the late filmmaker-artist Bapu, pay homage to the idea of the Bapu bomma — the quintessential beautiful Telugu woman. Samantha is introduced as Swarna, another name for gold and a nod to the film’s title. The colours of her saris evoke turmeric and vermillion, symbols of auspiciousness, in her introductory scene as she worries whether her husband’s family will accept her. These early passages unfold with ease.

The large joint family seen here is reminiscent of several stereotypical mainstream Telugu films. Women and children clad in finery inhabit a large, tastefully done up home. The men go to work and women are content cooking up lavish meals and performing pujas. When Swarna, who can neither cook nor perform pujas to perfection, wonders whether she will fit in, the film comments on the expectations women are expected to live up to. Though the story is set in the 1980s, many women may still recognise these tropes, in varying degrees.

Swarna’s shortcuts to turn the tables in her favour are narrated through amusing moments, even if the household is populated by familiar archetypes: a mildly judgmental grandmother and mother-in-law, a competitive co-sister, a quietly supportive sister-in-law, a nosy brother-in-law and men who largely remain in the background. The subplot involving Swarna and her childhood friend Kiranmayee (Manjusha) is a hoot, as is her run-in with Anasuya (Sree Mukhi), the embodiment of the ideal daughter-in-law.

Through these portions, the film gradually builds anticipation around Swarna’s past. A car chase and a brief combat sequence at dawn act as teasers for what is to come.

The reveal, however, is where the film falters. In stories such as these, the payoff has to justify the carefully built suspense. The manner in which Swarna’s past unfolds takes the wind out of the proceedings. Had this stretch been written with greater ingenuity, it could have delivered the rousing moment that fully justifies the presence of a mass-action heroine.

For the audience to completely invest in Swarna’s desire to win over her family, her relationship with her husband (Diganth) needed more depth. In contrast, Karna’s (Gulshan Devaiah) devious and controlling arc is better developed, even if it sidesteps the socio-political implications of his clan.

The film raises pertinent questions. What does it take for a woman manipulated in the past to unapologetically reclaim her voice? Can a woman who does not fit societal archetypes retain her individuality and still win over her family? These questions play out against the backdrop of a family under threat and Samantha getting to embrace her action-star persona. The performances, particularly those by the women, are among the film’s strengths.

Manjusha and Sree Mukhi steal scenes, while Gautami, despite a limited role, is effective. Gulshan Devaiah is suitably cold and calculating as the antagonist. Ultimately, though, the film belongs to Samantha and Nandini Reddy for holding the narrative together even when the clever turns dry up.

It is a delight to watch Samantha own the action sequences, making them look effortless. In contrast, when she attempts to be the perfect daughter-in-law, it almost feels like role play, in keeping with the narrative’s demands. Why should male heroes have all the fun? It is precisely because Samantha makes this avatar so convincing that the shortcomings in the plot and screenplay feel particularly underwhelming. One also wishes there had been a few more substantial action set pieces.

On a brighter note, although Telugu cinema is no stranger to joint-family dramas, the attention to aesthetics and character details works in the film’s favour. Ullas Hydur’s production design and Om Prakash’s cinematography effectively evoke the 1980s, while Santhosh Narayanan’s score moves seamlessly between family drama and action-entertainer modes.

Towards the end, some of the visual and verbal metaphors likening the woman to goddesses Kaali and Durga feel more pronounced than subtle. A few loopholes surrounding the crimes depicted in the film also hinder complete immersion.

Had the talented team of Maa Inti Bangaaram pushed the film’s possibilities with a smarter plot and a willingness to take greater risks, it could have become one of the rare female-led action dramas to leave a lasting mark. As it stands, it remains a watchable and enjoyable film.