In 1987, when Mammootty’s career had hit a roadblock, it was director Joshiy’s salvo called New Delhi that helped him regain his stardom. Mammootty rose from there like the proverbial phoenix, reinventing himself, reshuffling genres, and prioritising the actor in him. Thirty six years later, as Joshiy’s son Abhilash Joshiy - a debutant director - and Mammootty’s son and a bona fide star Dulquer Salman united on screen, the stakes weren’t exactly that high. Dulquer, with over 34 films in his kitty and a marked presence in other language films, commanding a box office initial next only to Mammootty and Mohanlal with an envious pan-Indian fan following, was just testing the waters. For the actor, this was his next big step to establish himself as a superstar, scaling that most difficult peak ahead — positioning himself as a larger-than-life mass hero, a feat accomplished easily by the two giants before him.
But unfortunately, King of Kotha turned out to be a damp squib. While it did break a few pre-release records, the audience, expecting an all-out mass masala entertainer, was disappointed to see a weakened formulaic Telugu-styled potboiler. Though Dulquer demonstrated that the genre sits lightly on him, the chaotic narrative and his own superficial characterisation let him down.
Clearly, Abhilash Joshiy (who previously assisted in Pappan and Porinju Mariyam Jose and has been an ad filmmaker), hailing from a lineage that has crafted some of the most entertaining masala films in Malayalam, looked out of depth. Except for the cinematography, KOK suffered in almost every department — the narrative was generic, the execution was shallow, and the writing was grossly underdeveloped, leaving us underwhelmed at areas that could have easily been dramatic, captivating moments. Maybe it is too early to write off Abhilash, but his style-over-substance debut held little promise.
A similar story shadows Nithin Renji Panicker, the son of writer-director-actor Renji Panicker, who made his directorial debut with Kasaba. If Abhilash struggled with craftsmanship, Nithin was stuck in a '90s time machine, unapologetically glorifying the very tropes with which his father had minted money once upon a time. Not only did the film lack artistry, but his ideation and politics were also woefully outdated.
If his father created a fiery Joseph Alex who talks down to women, Nithin went a few steps ahead and brought back a hero from the dark ages. So in theory, though Rajan Zacharia is a brash womaniser who casually walks up to his colleague and pulls on her pants, the narrative eagerly venerates his act. Overall, Kasaba turned out to be an obsolete fare that would have perhaps worked in the late 90s.
Kaaval, Nithin’s second film, also written by him, once again rested on archaic ideas and narrative styles, thrived on the brawn and bravery of alpha male heroes and meek women, and had nothing new to offer in terms of execution or writing. That Nithin is still heavily influenced by the cinematic language of his father and director Shaji Kailas is evident in how he chooses his stories. Kaaval tells that stale old revenge action drama tale that was ubiquitous in 90s Malayalam cinema. In fact, you can see the reuse of most of his father’s films in the Suresh Gopi starrer. Even the outdated tropes are retained. Alpha male fiery chest-thumping hero, check. He is also kind and large-hearted, check. The antagonists are supremely evil, check. Women are in the background, either propositioned to or married, check. Onus on family sentiments, check. Weighty issues by the side, check.
In sharp contrast, Sidharth Bharathan, son of the legendary Bharathan, while deeply influenced by his father’s filmmaking aesthetics, has paved a path for himself. Though his career as an actor didn’t exactly take off, Sidharth proved right from his debut film Nidra, a retelling of his father’s film by the same name, that direction was his calling. It was a fine tribute to his father’s craft, framing a complex volatile love story and portraying the man-woman relationship with an understated sensuality. No other filmmaker before or after him has presented Rima Kallingal with such an erotic allure that is reminiscent of Bharathan’s heroines.
Sidharth has also dabbled smartly with genres. If Chandrettan Evideya was an enjoyable romantic/fantasy comedy, Varnyathil Aashanka was a heist comedy and also one of his highly underrated works. This was followed by the recent erotic pulp thriller Chathuram which had a shifty, mysterious femme fatale at the core, who uses her sexuality unapologetically to lure and take advantage of men. Chathuram was a genre that had long been extinct in Malayalam cinema, and Sidharth skillfully delivers. His films, however, have largely failed to make an impact at the box office.
Kamal’s son Jenuse has only had two releases so far, and both stood out for their novel theme and treatment. If 100 Days of Love starring Dulquer Salman and Nithya Menen was an ingenious and funny rom-com, 9 (Nine) produced and headlined by Prithviraj Sukumaran was a sci-fi that worked better as a psychological/ horror thriller. It covered the writing flaws with superb production value and technology. Having said that, Jenuse is yet to come up with a work that is truly outstanding. The ideas are there but somehow falters at execution.
Easily the most successful of the second-generation directors has to be Vineeth Sreenivasan who has revolutionised candy floss romance and the feel-good genre in Malayalam cinema. Though it’s a far cry from the kind of social satire his father was adept at, Vineeth has often borrowed Sreenivasan’s cheeky humour in his writings. Be it Malarvadi Arts Club which had a group of young friends at the helm, Thattathin Marayathu which was a fresh, irreverent romantic comedy that instantly connected him to the youth, Thira which was a surprisingly edgy thriller that pivoted around human trafficking, a family drama called Jacobinte Swargarajyam, or Hridayam that facilitated the coming-of-age arc of the hero, Vineeth has been successful in winning over the audiences despite some of his superficial narrative tools and execution. Hridayam was one of the biggest hits of last year.
That way Anoop Sathyan and Akhil Sathyan, the twin sons of Sathyan Anthikad, have found great success in giving a spin to their father’s tried and tested narratives. If the 2020 Varane Avashyamundu (headlined by Suresh Gopy, Shobana, Kalyani Priyadarshan, Dulquer Salman) was a rom-com set in an urban landscape with many stories interweaved, Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum (2023) starring Fahadh Faasil had more Anthikadan tropes squeezed in alongside more modern sensibilities. Especially when it comes to the representation of women in both films, an area the senior often overlooked. Anoop pitched a 50-something single mother (Shobana) at the centre and allowed her to rediscover love and companionship, and Akhil’s Hamsadhwani with her pragmatism and independence was the most comforting sight in Pachu.
Jean Paul Lal aka Lal Jr has no traits of his father, Lal, who played a role in establishing situational comedy in Malayalam cinema. If his debut Honey Bee was a Fort Kochi-flavoured comic thriller with a smattering of original, cool, and relatable characters, he attempted a psychological thriller in Hi I’m Tony which didn’t land quite well. Honey Bee 2, meanwhile, turned out to be a weak and unfunny sequel to the original. But Driving Licence, a clever meta film that pivots around a superstar (Prithviraj) and his fan (Suraj Venjaramoodu), despite its flaws achieves what it sets out to achieve — make superstars look flawed and human.
The directorial debut of Kavya Prakash, daughter of VK Prakash, was Vaanku (2020), which revolved around a Muslim girl hailing from a traditional family who yearns to loudly recite Adhan. Based on Unni R’s short story, it was a fascinating and relevant theme that perhaps deserved a more nuanced execution, including in the feminism v/s faith subtexts.
Lineage of course can offer you a backdoor entry, and maybe a longer rope. But clearly, a filmmaker’s longevity rests on their craftsmanship, an urge to do something radical, exciting, bold, and original. These directors’ trajectory so far shows that only those who have truly attempted to think out of the box have managed to make any impact. And those who failed to revise with the changing grammar of cinema have sorely missed the mark.