The Kalyani Priyadarshan starrer is the kind of incentive superhero origin story that can alter the way such films are made in Malayalam cinema, asserts Arjun Menon.
Lokah opens up new possibilities for Malayalam cinema.
Dominic Arun has dared to dream big in his second directorial outing.
But the only thing lacking in Lokah seems to be a solid start to a franchise. It's a mere functional placeholder to set up a larger universe rather than a fully formed cinematic experience by itself. Of course, this will not be a problem for the immediate pleasures and genre eccentricities being offered here.
Lokah is an addition to the growing superheroes genre in Malayalam cinema, which took off with Minnal Murali four years ago.
Chandra (Kalyani Priyadarshan) is a recluse with a hidden past. She moves to Bangalore and we get glimpses of her unusual ways by her interactions with an unnamed, covert group of men who give her instructions to lay low for a while in the new city.
The group seems to be banking on Chandra's presence to pull off a mission.
Lokah's first half co-opts the iconography and world building of a laid back hang out movie, with teenage drug parties, fluorescent lit sets and a mysterious neighbour unknowingly spotted doing odd things by an unsuspecting guy living next door, who is clearly smitten by her.
The cliches of the superhero genre is explored with adherence to the tropes we have come to learn from these films -- the moonlighting job, strange lifestyle choices, sealed off windows, standing up again a co-worker's slimeball stalker, avoiding social contact...
We wait for the film to reveal who Chandra really is but the film has other plans.
It takes until the interval point for the film to build up the intrigue and play Malayalam-coded Edgar Wright-like buddy comedy shenanigans before the reveal is made in a neatly conceived scene that ties back to Kerala's folklore and mythology in an innovative way.
Lokah suddenly whips up some visceral energy in the second half.
Kalyani Priyadarshan maintains the intrigue but the feeling of her being miscast crept up on me for a long time. She seemed awkward in many interactions.
The confidence and world weary spunk of a tragic vampire needed more panache in conveying the futility of it all.
Naslen plays the same character he has been playing through his career: The clueless guy who thinks he is the hero of his story, when he is nothing more than a passive side player, whose journey intersects with that of the leading lady.
We are introduced to a misogynistic cop, who faces off with Chandra.
Sandy plays the villain with such flair, you feel disgruntled seeing his interactions.
The film tries to use the character of Inspector Nachiappa the same way Basil Joseph integrated the arc of the terrific 'Shibu' from Minnal Murali. The villain and hero figures become mirror images in a sense and the film explores this dynamic.
The writing in the first half of Lokah is well done.
The tension is building and the makers reveal as little as possible as they build the curiosity, one reveal at a time.
But Lokah seems to be so in love with its own ideas in the latter half that it forgets to become a coherent piece of cinema by itself.
The franchise problem of breathlessly running around, setting up new characters and future players in the cinematic realm of the larger story become evident in the second half.
We see many star cameos and there's a sequence in an isolated hospital ward involving magic tart cards and superhuman tomfoolery, which are reminiscent of the antics of Loki, the God of mischief. The scene makes you feel that Malayalam cinema has breached a new ground and is ready to experiment with bolder, creative ideas.
That is the beauty of Lokah as it integrates the mad cap energy of its western influences with a tongue-in-cheek irreverence, while keeping our folk tradition alive.
Nimish Ravi is the real hero of Lokah as he heightens the visual texture with the neon-lit hallways and streets right out of a imagined version of what an urban space sprawling with vampires and tricksters would look like in the dark.
The lensing is so effective in many of the scenes that encapsulate the scale of the film within its restricted budgets and controlled interactions that is expected to convey larger ideas.
James Bejoy enhances the mood with a score that understands the scope that such a vibrant and colourfully creative work requires.
He blows up even the most mundane of action choreography with a sort of thumbing affectation that adds to the visceral quality of the images.
Dominic Arun is so invested in the fantastical ideas planted in his and Santhy Balakrishnan's script that he takes stop gaps in between to spell them out.
The last hour of the film is a conveniently-tied together, rushed finale that looks like a random and abrupt action scene.
It feels lazily woven into the narrative as an after-thought.
If it was not for the rushed finale, Lokah would have been the blockbuster storytelling Malayalam cinema has been waiting for all these years.
Lokah Review Rediff Rating:
