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Once upon a time, friendships breaking over political differences would have been the foundation for a simple battle between good and evil. In 2025, it is a brutal reality with no heroes or villains. People grow apart over politics or ideologies: some by choice, others by force. Writer-director Harshad Nalawade’s multilingual feature Follower is not one to waste time assigning blame. It digs deep into the circumstances that rip Raghu, Sachin, and Parveen apart laying bare the ruthlessness of politics and the fractures it leaves behind.
Set in Belgaum, a city in Karnataka that is only a few miles away from the neighboring state of Maharashtra, Follower is all about the simmering community conflicts. The film’s protagonist, Raghavendra alias Raghu is of Marathi origins although his name would easily pass off as Kannadiga. Meanwhile, his Kannadiga friend Sachin (possibly named after Tendulkar, a Maharashtrian icon) actively speaks out against Marathi atrocities through viral YouTube videos. Told in reverse chapters through flashbacks (editing by Maulik Sharma), the narrative first immerses us in the present conflict before unraveling the events that led to it. This structure allows director Harshad Nalawade to evoke empathy for his protagonist who, ironically, is the least likable character in the film.
Follower can be interpreted in many ways. Beyond its political themes, it studies privilege versus its absence. Sachin, a Kannadiga living in Karnataka (at least geographically), is born with a silver spoon. He does not need to work hard to sustain himself (we are explicitly told as much). His family is determined to send him abroad for higher studies, a choice Raghu will never have.
Raghu, on the other hand, feels like an outsider in his hometown. Burdened with running his late father’s struggling gift shop, he does not have the luxury of counting likes and shares on his YouTube videos. In contrast, Sachin’s activism stems from his lack of real responsibilities and a far greater sense of self-worth than his friend. While Raghu has no days off, Sachin has the time and resources to debate ideologies, including a plate of chicken that wasn’t served on a Tuesday, without worrying about survival.
“One should do what one likes to do,” Parveen advises Raghu who is stuck in a mind-numbing business. But is it that easy to walk away from a family enterprise? Not quite, especially when his elder brother, living in the USA, still has a say in the household’s affairs. To further complicate matters, Raghu harbors a secret love for Parveen who is a Muslim single mother. So, at one point, I tried separating Raghu from the turmoil surrounding him. What might he have aspired to if he hadn’t faced marginalization in both his personal and professional life? What is his true calling? I didn’t quite find an answer. What Raghu eventually becomes is an online troll.
A recurring visual motif in Follower is a striking poster of a Marathi right-wing leader. While we do not meet him in person, the leader’s presence looms large, especially as Raghu becomes a “glorified” journalist for his party’s mouthpiece. From what appeared to be a vile way to make a living, the film’s final act attempts to humanize Raghu’s actions. While Follower portrays him as a victim of circumstance, it does not recommend the radical ideologies he aligns with. The film also comments on the imposition of local languages. Whether Kannada or Marathi, this might come across as an act of insecurity, but for many, it is an act of preserving their cultural identity. However, within the film’s central conflict (which can also be extrapolated to intolerance towards minorities), this pursuit fails to transcend larger ideals of brotherhood in a land meant to belong to all.
Harshad Nalawade imagines Follower with a series of lifelike sequences, some of which unfold through immersive long takes (DOP: Saket Gyani). A standout example is the moment when Raghu follows Parveen on their two-wheelers, leading to a major dramatic shift, free of false notes in writing, execution, or performance. Another scene presents a more conventionally staged confrontation with an elderly Kannadiga extremist which plays a key role in Raghu’s eventual search for solace in his roots. Then there’s a heated exchange between Raghu and Sachin at a restaurant highlighting the impracticality of Sachin’s liberal ideals in a country as polarized as India. In a way, Sachin’s parents urging him to immigrate reflects a grim reality that a young man like him may not be safe in his own country. I am sure Dhruv Rathee would agree. Lastly, in another brief yet intriguing sequence, Raghu’s mother arranges a meeting with a prospective bride. What begins as a harmless conversation about hobbies soon escalates as the young woman (besides being wildly objectified) dismantles Raghu’s faulty worldview.
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One of the bits that does not quite land is the central bond between the trio. Parveen, in particular, feels somewhat underdeveloped compared to the two men. Her Muslim identity is treated more as an extra trait rather than a meaningful element, adding little beyond some linguistic diversity within the group. Additionally, Raghu’s romantic interest in her never unfolds as one might expect, leaving that subplot feeling underexplored among other chaos. The incident leading to the film’s penultimate confrontation, a heated fight on a public road, lacks conviction. The writing and the execution make us wonder how these three dissimilar people connected, communicated, and sustained a bond for so long. The absence of family interactions (except for a blink-and-miss scene) in their status quo further diminishes the believability of their equation. Sachin’s politics, strangely, remain devoid of empathy. His indifference is evident when he dismisses Raghu’s distress over a 25% percent hike in his shop rent, an increase that could financially devastate him. Did Sachin ever care beyond the virality of his videos? How accountable was he for the cause he seemed to advocate?
Despite its underlying issues, Follower is powered by strong performances. Raghu Prakash, in his debut, has a commanding screen presence and a raw energy that make him a joy to watch as the flawed leading man. Filmmaker Harshad Nalawade takes on the role of Sachin, the most complex character to interpret among the three. Nalawade keeps him curious and engaging. Donna Munshi, as Parveen, gets the lingo and physicality of her character very well. Her chemistry with her co-stars leaves us eager to explore more of their past and what lies ahead.
Seamlessly narrated in Marathi, Kannada, and Hindi/Urdu, Follower flows effortlessly between its capable leads, highlighting the impact of deprivation and discord in a developing economy like India. The larger concern is whether there is an escape once one enters such a maze. With relationships at stake and lives in constant peril, where are we headed as a society in search of an imagined sense of communion? With the “Hindu khatre mein hai” slogan finding popularity among India’s right-wing extremists, Follower illustrates how subsets of the same religion feel unsafe in each other’s company in a landscape that has long coexisted. Raising more questions than it answers, Follower does not offer idealistic solutions or take a definitive stance, but it makes one thing clear: radicalism has the power to destroy. The least we can hope for is that voices like Nalawade’s continue to emerge until a revolution reaches those burdened by poverty, unemployment, and misinformation.
Rating: ★★★ 1/2
