Prathichaya (Malayalam)
Spoiler alert: Details of the plot
When Unnikrishnan B’s Prathichaya opens, there is a promise of thrills – the slow undoing of Kerala’s Chief Minister, KN Varghese (played by Balachandra Menon), exposing the moral compromises beneath power and public image. But as pace builds and stakes sharpen, the film drifts, without really moving past political rhetoric.
The narrative unfolds with Varghese being hounded by the Left in Kerala over allegations of receiving bribes for liquor licenses. The Secretariat siege sequence is reminiscent of the 2013 blockade of the Secretariat in Thiruvananthapuram, led by the Left Democratic Front, demanding the resignation of then Chief Minister Oommen Chandy over the solar scam.
But Unnikrishnan does not confine Varghese to the mould of any single political figure. He is an amalgam of public memories drawn from across Kerala’s political landscape. If the bar bribery incident reminds you of KM Mani, the sexual assault allegation by a woman leading to Varghese’s disgraceful exit from politics makes you think of Oommen Chandy.
In all this, there is one thing you understand well about Varghese– he is a shrewd, seasoned politician who harbours both generosity and grudges beneath the veneer of his public image.
The conflict is set in motion when Varghese is accused of sexual assault. This is when his younger son and technocrat John Varghese (Nivin Pauly) decides to pick up his father’s battle.
The affectionate moments between Balachandra Menon and Nivin work well. Harishree Ashokan, Maniyan Pilla Raju, and Sai Kumar deliver their roles with conviction. Ann Augustine and Neethu Krishna (who plays Rosa) make their presence felt. Sabitha Anand gets her moments.
The plot does touch upon several issues films in the genre generally showcase: corruption, scams, data theft, corporate monopoly, and so on. But the staging, especially Sharaf U Dheen’s background story, appears oversimplified. The media is also criticised for sensationalism and for making and breaking public images without honest scrutiny.
However, in the grammar of commercial cinema, when a star like Nivin plays the doting son of a father accused of sexual violence, one can predict where the story might go. Prathichaya goes exactly there, and in doing so, Unnikrishnan reduces his political drama to an apolitical spectacle that is all noise and no conviction.
The portrayal of such an all-powerful man, like the chief minister of a state, as a sentimental victim of a political trap, and the placement of his son as his avenger, exposes how thinly thought-out the drama really is.
The irk I felt with this plot point is also related to an emerging pattern in Malayalam cinema, where villainous women make false allegations. I couldn’t help but squirm at the movie’s timing, especially considering the growing tendency to readily discredit any woman who complains against a powerful harasser.
Varghese even tells his son that “there is a comeback from a corruption case, but when a woman is involved, once tainted is always tainted”. Signature Unnikrishnan-style one-liners like these, along with deafening background music, let down a film that could have been a nuanced take on sensationalism, corporatocracy, and complicity.
Prathichaya confuses political backdrop with political engagement, forgetting that the true measure of a political film is whose story it elevates and whose it sidelines.
Disclaimer: This review was not paid for or commissioned by anyone associated with the film. Neither TNM nor any of its reviewers have any sort of business relationship with the film’s producers or any other members of its cast and crew.