









Me and my childhood friend used to sing it out loud on the streets at midnight as we rode our bikes.
This goes to show that a riff doesn't need to be complicated to be powerful!
Getting there fellas!
I’ve been watching 1923 and it’s one of those shows that looks incredibly well made, emotionally intense, and clearly trying to depict historical brutality, but the framing is not always as consistent as it thinks it is.
The violence against Indigenous people is shown very directly. No ambiguity there. The show does not soften it, and in some ways it forces the viewer to sit with what that history actually looked like. That part feels intentional and unflinching.
But then there are moments where the writing slips into something much more surface level when it comes to how colonial presence is framed.
In Season 1, Episode 7 (“The Rule of Five Hundred”), there is a restaurant scene where Alexandra casually says:
“I’m British. All we do is travel the world and become experts in the places we visit.”
It is delivered like light banter, almost playful, but it lands differently when you sit with the historical context behind it. “Becoming experts” sounds neutral, even admirable on the surface, but historically a lot of that “presence” involved extraction, control, rewriting of local systems, and long term cultural distortion rather than neutral understanding or appreciation.
In the same episode, Jacob Dutton (Harrison Ford) also talks about local governance systems like the panchayat model in India, where communities come together to resolve issues collectively. He then suggests that once a population crosses around 500 people, these systems start breaking down and stronger individuals begin exploiting weaker ones. I’m not sure if that “500 people” threshold is based on any real research, but it feels more like a narrative simplification than an actual sociological fact.
That is where the tension sits for me. The show is willing to depict brutality with full weight in one thread, but in another it still leans on simplified, almost romanticised ideas about colonial identity and presence.
Curious how people here are processing this while watching it, especially Indian viewers and Indians who have settled in Western countries.
When you see scenes like this, how do you read it?
Does it feel like familiar historical framing that is already well understood, or do you still notice these subtle narrative softeners in Western media?
For people living in the West, does watching shows like this change how you see these histories being represented, or does it still feel like just fiction?
Genuinely asking because I feel like different audiences may be engaging with the same scenes in very different ways, and I am curious how that difference actually plays out.
I’ve been watching 1923 and it’s one of those shows that looks incredibly well made, emotionally intense, and clearly trying to sit with historical brutality, but the framing is not always as consistent as it thinks it is.
The violence against Indigenous people is shown very directly. No ambiguity there. The show does not soften it, and in some ways it forces the viewer to actually sit with what that history looked like. That part feels intentional and unflinching.
But then there are moments where the writing slips into something much more surface level when it comes to how colonial presence is framed.
In Season 1, Episode 7 (“The Rule of Five Hundred”), there is a restaurant scene where Alexandra casually says:
“I’m British. All we do is travel the world and become experts in the places we visit.
It is delivered like light banter, almost playful, but it lands very differently if you actually sit with the history behind it. Because “becoming experts” sounds neutral, almost admirable, but in reality a lot of that history is tied to extraction, control, reinterpretation of local systems, and long term cultural distortion. Not just learning about places, but actively reshaping them through power.
In the same episode, Jacob Dutton (Harrison Ford) also talks about local governance systems like the panchayat model in India, where communities come together to resolve issues collectively. He then suggests that once a population crosses around 500 people, these systems start breaking down and stronger individuals begin exploiting weaker ones. I’m not sure if that “500 people” threshold is based on any real research, but it feels more like a narrative simplification than an actual sociological fact.
And that is where the tension sits for me. The show is willing to depict brutality with full weight in one breath, but in another it still leans on simplified, almost romanticised ideas about the people and systems involved
I am curious how this actually lands for people watching it, especially in Western countries.
When you see scenes like this, what is the internal processing?
Is it just historical distance, something like this is unpleasant but not connected to me?
Does it create any discomfort tied to identity or inheritance at all, or does it stay fully in the category of fiction and storytelling?
Is there any sense of responsibility, or even just awareness of continuity between past systems and present ones?
Or has it all become so normalised that it does not really register beyond the scene itself?
Because from the outside it genuinely feels like there are multiple completely different ways this could be experienced, and I am not sure which one is actually dominant anymore.
I’ve been watching 1923 and it’s one of those shows that looks incredibly well made, emotionally intense, and clearly trying to sit with historical brutality, but the framing is not always as consistent as it thinks it is.
The violence against Indigenous people is shown very directly. No ambiguity there. The show does not soften it, and in some ways it forces the viewer to actually sit with what that history looked like. That part feels intentional and unflinching.
But then there are moments where the writing slips into something much more surface level when it comes to how colonial presence is framed.
In Season 1, Episode 7 (“The Rule of Five Hundred”), there is a restaurant scene where Alexandra casually says:
“I’m British. All we do is travel the world and become experts in the places we visit.”
It is delivered like light banter, almost playful, but it lands very differently if you actually sit with the history behind it. Because “becoming experts” sounds neutral, almost admirable, but in reality a lot of that history is tied to extraction, control, reinterpretation of local systems, and long term cultural distortion. Not just learning about places, but actively reshaping them through power.
In the same episode, Jacob Dutton (Harrison Ford) also talks about local governance systems like the panchayat model in India, where communities come together to resolve issues collectively. He then suggests that once a population crosses around 500 people, these systems start breaking down and stronger individuals begin exploiting weaker ones. I’m not sure if that “500 people” threshold is based on any real research, but it feels more like a narrative simplification than an actual sociological fact.
And that is where the tension sits for me. The show is willing to depict brutality with full weight in one breath, but in another it still leans on simplified, almost romanticised ideas about the people and systems involved
I am curious how this actually lands for people watching it, especially in Western countries.
When you see scenes like this, what is the internal processing?
Is it just historical distance, something like this is unpleasant but not connected to me?
Does it create any discomfort tied to identity or inheritance at all, or does it stay fully in the category of fiction and storytelling?
Is there any sense of responsibility, or even just awareness of continuity between past systems and present ones?
Or has it all become so normalised that it does not really register beyond the scene itself?
Because from the outside it genuinely feels like there are multiple completely different ways this could be experienced, and I am not sure which one is actually dominant anymore.
There’s been a lot of debate, obviously surrounding that atrocious scene in the film.
But what I strongly disagree with is the blame being directed at PEDDI’s lead actress, Janhvi Kapoor. There's been some r*&arded arguments that women shouldn't have a problem with it because Jahnvi herself okayed it.
The assumption that actors fully understand how a scene will land on screen is not always accurate. On set, things are often presented in fragments.
From experience on production sets, it usually looks like this:
\- A scene is described in broad terms like "romance scene" or "emotional beat" or "love proposal" or "room conversation". I know it sounds funny. But thats how they talk. No one fkn knows the details of that scene until the director asks.. do this.. do that. Put your arm there etc..
\- The actor performs based on direction in that moment. The actresses really dont care about the story or screenplay while on set.
\- There is limited visibility into final editing choices. The full context only becomes clear in the final edit.
From the actresses's point of view, it is often just a job. You show up, perform, trust the director, and move on to the next setup. The final tone is shaped much later in editing.
That’s why placing the blame on the actress feels misplaced. The real responsibility sits with:
\- The director who controls framing and execution
\- The writers who design the scenes - in this case the director himself
\- The hero who okayed the scene (he's absolutely involved in the story. The film is about him)
\- The production decisions that approve the final cut
Criticize the film if needed, but the accountability should be directed where the creative control ACTUALLY exists.
There’s been a lot of debate, obviously surrounding that atrocious scene in the film.
But what I strongly disagree with is the blame being directed at PEDDI’s lead actress, Janhvi Kapoor. Andaru, thanu okay chesindi, women ki problem enti ani retarded arguments chesthunaru. Ee women blaming narratives enti ra babu. Thanu emaina story rasinda.
The assumption that actors fully understand how a scene will land on screen is not always accurate. On set, things are often presented in fragments.
From experience on production sets, it usually looks like this:
\- A scene is described in broad terms like "romance scene" or "emotional beat" or "love proposal" or "room conversation". I know it sounds funny. But thats how they talk. No one fkn knows the details of that scene until the director asks.. do this.. do that. Put your arm there etc..
\- The actor performs based on direction in that moment. The actresses really dont care about the story or screenplay while on set.
\- There is limited visibility into final editing choices. The full context only becomes clear in the final edit.
From the actresses's point of view, it is often just a job. You show up, perform, trust the director, and move on to the next setup. The final tone is shaped much later in editing.
That’s why placing the blame on the actress feels misplaced. The real responsibility sits with:
\- The director who controls framing and execution
\- The writers who design the scenes - in this case the director himself
\- The hero who okayed the scene (he's absolutely involved in the story. The film is about him)
\- The production decisions that approve the final cut
Criticize the film if needed, but the accountability should be directed where the creative control ACTUALLY exists.
There’s been a lot of debate, obviously surrounding that atrocious scene in the film.
But what I strongly disagree with is the blame being directed at PEDDI’s lead actress, Janhvi Kapoor. Andaru, thanu okay chesindi, women ki problem enti ani retarded arguments chesthunaru. Ee women blaming narratives enti ra babu. Thanu emaina story rasinda.
The assumption that actors fully understand how a scene will land on screen is not always accurate. On set, things are often presented in fragments.
From experience on production sets, it usually looks like this:
- A scene is described in broad terms like "romance scene" or "emotional beat" or "love proposal" or "room conversation". I know it sounds funny. But thats how they talk. No one fkn knows the details of that scene until the director asks.. do this.. do that. Put your arm there etc..
- The actor performs based on direction in that moment. The actresses really dont care about the story or screenplay while on set.
- There is limited visibility into final editing choices. The full context only becomes clear in the final edit.
From the actresses's point of view, it is often just a job. You show up, perform, trust the director, and move on to the next setup. The final tone is shaped much later in editing.
That’s why placing the blame on the actress feels misplaced. The real responsibility sits with:
- The director who controls framing and execution
- The writers who design the scenes - in this case the director himself
- The hero who okayed the scene (he's absolutely involved in the story. The film is about him)
- The production decisions that approve the final cut
Criticize the film if needed, but the accountability should be directed where the creative control ACTUALLY exists.
Malli strike esaru Barbell meedha.
https://reddit.com/link/1tx4dcs/video/5txa3e81qc5h1/player
30 minutes ki, I thought I'm done with this film. Tharvatha oka dharunamaina, juguthsakaramaina scene okati petti saccharu. How the fck is this our mainstream cinema? Inspiration, sports annaru kada ra..
Ikada laingika dhadi ni entertainmanet ani ammi pad dobbhuthunaru. Janalu chudadam.. feel sad for Ram Charan anadam.. Have people collectively lost their brain cells or something?
As a person who can't make sense out of things that fall outside the parameters of rationality - this is one of them.
I understand "growing just a mustache" - though preposterous, I understand that the association with masculinity and pride with mustaches was culturally followed in some Indian traditions.
And there is some serious cultural weight to grooming. For example, one of my friends is Korean. In his culture - men who grow mustaches or beards are not men. They are considered ungroomed or beastly. In fact this guy actively goes to laser treatments to zap any hair from his face. It's obviously bizarre to us. But it is what it is.
In Sikh people, we see that they let it grow - no matter the length. I had a Sikh roommate who would spend 45 minutes in the bathroom just to groom his hair and beard. They apply beard oils and ghee, even to tame it.
In Europe, some elite royalist called Van Dyke popularized the Goatee. Which apparently was linked to artistic expression. I dont see how but hey people were also into incestuous relations in that region and era. So.. yeah.
Coming back to beard with no mustache, what's going through your head when you do it?
Wtf do you smoke?
What's stopping you from putting your foot down?
Do you not see the irony?
Hurt aipokandi. Nimmalanga discuss cheddam.
Context: I fkn hate caste.
The issue is that ancient Indigenous rock art sites (petroglyphs and pictographs) in parts of Arizona and the broader U.S. Southwest have been damaged by these visitors who carved names, graffiti, or markings into the rock surfaces. These sites are culturally sacred and often thousands of years old, and the desert patina that preserves them takes centuries to form, meaning even small acts of vandalism cause permanent loss.
Needless to say, all Indians are labeled and pigeonholed again. There is massive criticism in the western media about this issue right now, and there is an active investigation going on to find these guys. First nations, people in the west who were amicable to indians before !re now seeking assistance from the government to deport these assholes.
Buchi Babu's standards are microscopic. Rahman might not even know that this song was composed. Visual aithe inka worst.
Dance master - edho 3rd class pillalu kalipi stage meedha dunkinattu cheyinchadu.
Deeniki janalu dabbulu kattadam. We're doomed. Saripoyaru andaru.