The bed starts to creak. Anklets jingle in the stillness of the night. A creeping anxiety settles in as strange accidents and eerie incidents force you to question whether a supernatural presence is quietly observing your every move, observes Divya Nair.
Over the last couple of years, Rahul Sadasivan has emerged as a promising horror filmmaker.
He arrived with a promise called Bhootakalam, then took it to the next level with Brahmayugam. Dies Irae, just like its Latin name meaning Day of Wrath, carries forward the ambition of crafting a psychological horror film that is mystical and certain to spark conversation -- true to Rahul Sadasivan's signature style.
After a successful run in the theatres, the film now appears on OTT.
The protagonist, Rohan (Pranav Mohanlal), lives in a sprawling, light-filled mansion surrounded by lush greenery. When he learns of his ex-girlfriend Kani's (Sushmitha Bhat) sudden and shocking suicide, he decides to visit her home one final time.
In a moment of innocent curiosity, he picks up a small red hair clip and brings it back with him. That's when the real horror begins.
The bed starts to creak. Anklets jingle in the stillness of the night. A creeping anxiety settles in as strange accidents and eerie incidents force you to question whether a supernatural presence is quietly observing your every move.
The film doesn't just rely on jump scares; instead, it first unsettles you with a deeply disturbing imagery -- vacant hollow eyes, mangled limbs, the wet squelch of torn flesh, and a shadowy figure that seems to invade the safest corners of your home.
The director succeeds in placing you firmly inside Pranav's mindspace, allowing your imagination to run wild. And just when you think you've guessed the worst, he pushes the boundaries a step further.
The terrace confrontation between Pranav and Arun Ajithkumar is where the film truly peaks -- it is raw, unpredictable, and executed with an intensity that lingers long after the scene ends.
Pranav slips into the character effortlessly. His calm, measured expressions work beautifully with the film's intended slow-burn tension, creating a sense of intrigue and amplifying the already unsettling atmosphere.
Rahul deftly uses predictable horror templates like shadows, door gaps, and staircases, but also blends it with an unconventional storyline that is as illogical as one's belief in supernatural forces to manifest a sense of fear and uncertainty in the audience.
Jaya Kurup's performance as Elsamma as the emotional, grieving single mother hiding a terrifying secret is impactful and arresting.
Rahul understands that the human mind fears the unknown just as much as the monsters around us that we fear to confront.
Just as he used a playful game of dice as a horror tool to show greed and power in Brahmayugam, Rahul uses a random accessory, like a red hair clip of a dancer, to gradually instil that fear in Dies Irae.
The result? Even common sounds like the snapping of a hair clip, the sound of running water would give you the chills, turning ordinary noises into sinister props.
It's also the story of two different lovers -- an introverted, one-sided lover and a passionate, non-committed, emotionally irresponsible partner -- tied together by an artiste whose death is an unsolved mystery. Like his previous films, the film will rob you of closure, instead haunting you with unsettling images and unanswered questions.
What doesn't work is the lack of a solid backstory and vague narrative that may be largely unimpressive to seasoned horror lovers.
What works is Gibin Gopinath's brilliant intervention as Madhusudhanan Potti, the last descendant of a line of exorcists, cleverly reminding us about Bramayugam's Kodumon Potti, while offering a subtle but satisfying narrative connection.
And the final reveal? I loved how the climax nods to director Rahul's Bhootakalam, tying his cinematic universe together in a quiet but chilling way.
Dies Irae streams on Jio Hotstar.
