The worst Mohanlal film is here. That’s the most succinct and kind review possible for Alone. Written by Rajesh Jayaraman and directed by Shaji Kailas, Alone is about a motivational speaker who moves to a new flat from Coimbatore to Kochi during the pandemic. He then starts hearing voices in the flat and concludes that it is haunted [the flat number is 13A, so what were you expecting?]. He decides to investigate the matter, and by the time he uncovers the truth, I was hearing voices in my head that asked me to run from the theatre as fast as I could.
Kalidasan (Mohanlal) is the lucky owner of several colourful T-shirts. His hobbies include getting drunk and calling various people who have inordinate amounts of time and patience to put up with him. Kalidasan or Das, as his girlfriend Yamuna (Manju Warrier) calls him, is only capable of speaking like he’s delivering a sermon. He uses phrases like “dhananjaya pranan” when speaking over the phone, and he is speaking over the phone all the time because this movie only has Mohanlal on screen. All the other actors are voices – either on the phone or from behind closed doors.
So, Mohanlal. We have to talk about him. It has to be said. Mohanlal is the worst thing about this (even worse) Mohanlal film. He plays Kalidasan like he’s an animated cartoon, with mannerisms that are plain embarrassing. Shaji Kailas and Mohanlal have delivered some of the superstar’s biggest blockbusters such as Aaram Thampuran and Narasimham. Alone tries to channel that Mohanlal in this premise, and the effect is ludicrous. When the actor looked at the camera and thundered, “Real heroes are always alone!” right before the interval, the man next to me woke up from his deep slumber, and asked, “Oh kazhinjo?” (Is it over?). Neerali made me sad – that an actor of such immense talent was caught in the tentacles of mediocrity. Alone left me with no feeling – if Mohanlal refuses to learn from his failures, what can a fan do?
One is not sure why Prithviraj is so fascinated with the word ‘Bhai’, but he plays former prisoner Hari Bhai’s voice. The actor’s voice is distinct but so is the tendency to overact. We’ve been treated to the bromance between Mohanlal and Prithviraj in earlier films, but it is just grating here, especially since pretty much nothing happens in the film. Das makes a call. We hear the automated voice warning people about COVID-19. Someone picks up. Das tells them his suspicions about the flat. They either act dismissive or follow his instructions. Das drinks. Das acts cute. Das makes a call. We hear the automated voice warning people…no, this review wasn’t written on ChatGPT but I wonder if the script was.
The background score is unbearably loud and combined with the camera that shakes and dances like the cinematographer had ants in his pants, you get the perfect recipe for a migraine. There is a major plot twist packed in all this dull mayhem but it is so overused that it hardly surprises anyone. Why did Mohanlal sign this drab thriller? I don’t know. But there’s a scene when Kalidasan tells Hari Bhai that he wants him to beat up someone so badly that every body part of this person should hurt. I felt like Mohanlal was referring to me. It felt personal, this torture of a film.
Sowmya Rajendran writes on gender, culture, and cinema. She has written over 25 books, including a nonfiction book on gender for adolescents. She was awarded the Sahitya Akademi’s Bal Sahitya Puraskar for her novel Mayil Will Not Be Quiet in 2015.
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.