Director Sreeraj Sreenivasan’s Pravinkoodu Shappu (2025) unravels with a murder at a toddy shop, casting suspicion on eleven of its customers. When a young SI (Basil Joseph) starts the investigation, he puts Kannan (Soubin Shahir), the shop’s main helper, and his wife Merinda (Chandni Sreedhar) under the scanner. While the couple’s cat-and-mouse game with the cops is intriguing, what’s disconcerting along with the overstuffed narrative is their creative choice to brown-face them. Kannan’s brown tint and added physical deformity appear to be shallow attempts to “sell” his deviousness.
Similarly, Chandni Sreedhar’s pale complexion is altered with a brown tint, thereby reinstating the stereotype that working class people belonging to disadvantaged communities have to look a certain way.
This resistance to change, coming from a young production house and crew in Malayalam cinema, is disappointing. Such appropriation can often reduce complex cultures to stereotypes, thereby dehumanising them. Kannan and Merinda’s external bulwarks not only reinforce bias but are also a missed opportunity for representation.
Filmmaker Ramdas Kadavallur says that it is concerning how this narrow beauty standard is perpetuated across all media, legitimising it. "We need to consider the Bahujan perspective, which is often overlooked. Additionally, the LGBTQIA+ dimension within this context warrants attention. The obsession with fair skin is a longstanding issue, evident in advertisements, television, films, social media filters, and other forms of artistic expression,” he adds.
In Ratheesh Balakrishna Poduval’s Nna Thaan Case Kodu (2022), set in a village in north Kerala, the leading man played by actor Kunchacko Boban is a small-time thief. Though he is characterised as an ordinary, relatable individual forced into theft, his appearance is problematic. The actor, who has always been popular for his light-skin and chocolate-boy image, is brown-faced and given a protruding tooth to “fit the role”.
Again, the excessive use of prosthetics to “deglamourise” not only perpetuates harmful classist, and casteist stereotypes but also detracts viewers from the actor’s performance as well.
Veteran film critic and academic CS Venkiteswaran says that to capitalise on a star's allure, filmmakers cast such actors in all kinds of roles. “If we look at history, even Hollywood's technology was racist, claiming the inability to capture white and black skin tones together. Now, digital technology can capture diverse skin tones even in low light. Indian cinema often associates darker skin tones with anti-social elements, indirectly perpetuating caste identities,” he observes.
Director Joffin T Chacko’s murder mystery Rekhachithram (2025), which was quite a success, also has the problem of skin colour politics. The plot, set up in the format of alternate history, gets unravelled by a man’s live social media confession of a 40-year-old crime. The disclosure leads to the reopening of a woman’s disappearance from the sets of director Bharathan’s Kathodu Kathoram (1985). Soon, the investigation headed by CI Vivek Gopinath (Asif Ali) shifts focus to a young junior artist–Rekha (Anaswara Rajan). As the narrative unfolds, we are drawn to the poignant story of the young woman who dreamt of cinema, and her all-consuming love for superstar Mammootty.
Rekha’s journey is the emotional core of the film, complemented by fascinating references to vintage cinema and its inner workings. But the only sore point of an otherwise lucid narrative is their creative choice to brownface the female antagonist Pushpam (Zarin Shihab), an immigrant Tamilian. When you associate darker skin tones with villainy or negative traits, it can enable racism and contribute to legitimising discrimination.
Ramdas feels that since cinema is often viewed solely as entertainment rather than a powerful medium for social commentary, issues like representation and casteism are frequently overlooked. “Caste biases permeate the film industry, from pre-production to the hierarchical structure of film crews. Bahujan and Dalit communities are underrepresented in key departments like direction, music, and costumes. They are often relegated to labour roles, with minimal opportunities for creative input or leadership. This inevitably influences the narratives and characters portrayed on screen,” he points out.
Nahas Hidayath’s RDX (2023) is an action thriller set in the 90s revolving around three brothers. A subplot features Robert’s (Shane Nigam) romance with Mini, (Mahima Nambiar) a woman from a lower-income background. Just to reinstate the stereotype, they opt to darken her skin tone.
Film critic Vivek S asks why it is logical to associate someone’s economic background with darker skin tone. “Until audiences start demanding better representation and authentic storytelling, this is just going to keep happening,” he adds.
This same treatment is extended to the antagonists, who are portrayed as aggressive, one-dimensional, and from similarly oppressed backgrounds, thereby reinforcing class-based stereotypes.
Dr Biju’s anti-war film Adrishya Jalakangal (2023) too is marred by questionable creative choices, particularly the decision to brown-face Tovino Thomas. He plays a person with disability, a nameless character reduced to a caricature with the brown-facing and protruding tooth. This oversight further undermines the film’s exploration of displacement, war conflicts, and fascism.
While one might acknowledge the director's creative freedom in designing a character’s appearance, the decision to cast Tovino Thomas, a popular actor, compromises authenticity. The actor’s inability to fully embody the character’s complexity is evident, and the director also misses the chance to tell a poignant story with diverse performers.
This creative decision is especially baffling coming from Dr Biju who has always been vocal about the harms of cultural appropriation. In the end, the film prioritises commercial viability over representation, ironically failing to resonate with audiences.
According to Ramdas, even Netflix's camera preferences prefer “whitening” the skin tones of characters. “Colour grading is a critical aspect, but many professionals lack a nuanced understanding, relying on simplistic matching techniques that result in unnatural whitening or darkening,” he says.
He admits having to rework the colour grading of his debut film to achieve a more authentic look. Reportedly, many artists in the industry are accustomed to using the same filters and techniques from their work in advertising and short films. “A notable exception is Madhu C Narayanan’s film Kumbalangi Nights, which achieved organic representation without resorting to stereotypes or biased colour grading,” Ramdas adds.
Even in director Jithin Lal’s debut film ARM (2024), featuring Tovino Thomas in three roles, his Dalit character is brown-faced.Venkiteswaran says that this is very telling of how Malayalam cinema is perhaps not as progressive as it looks.
“I don't see progressiveness in Malayalam cinema yet. In commercial cinema, audience identification with characters is crucial. Fair-skinned actors are often more recognisable. Actors like Rajinikanth are rare exceptions everywhere,” he asserts.
Historically, Tamil cinema has also shown a preference for fair-skinned heroines from Mumbai, overlooking local talent. Recently, they've turned to casting Malayalam actresses. Even a progressive filmmaker like PA Ranjith has opted for brown-facing, as seen in Thangalaan (2024) with Vikram and Parvathy Thiruvothu.
This highlights the industry's entrenched beauty standards and biases, perpetuating unfair representation and opportunities for darker-skinned actresses.
Citing how this is not a recent phenomenon even in Malayalam cinema, film critic SR Praveen says that even if one ignores the lack of awareness regarding the racist history of blackfacing, there is the bigger problem of denial of opportunity to actors just because of their skin colour.
“The Malayalam film industry, which the other industries look up to, should be a model in this regard,” he observes.
In Priyadarshan's comedy Akkare Akkare Akkare (1990), Mohanlal and Sreenivasan darken their skin tones to disguise themselves and spy on KPAC Lalitha, going so far as to refer to themselves as "negroes". What was at the time dismissed as a harmless joke now stands out as a racially insensitive attempt at humour.
Director Kamal’s Kakothykaviley Appooppan Thaadigal (1988) features Revathy as Kakothy, a gypsy making a living doing odd jobs. She was kidnapped as a child by a wily beggar and later rescued by a gypsy who took care of her. While one acknowledges the decision to cast a talent like Revathy in a role that requires gravitas, what’s baffling is the choice of making her skin many shades darker.
Anasuya Menon, a journalist with a national daily, offers a nuanced perspective on the complexity of casting decisions. “I can see both sides of the argument. If I want to cast Anaswara Rajan but my character has a darker skin tone, I don't see an issue with giving her a makeover if I believe she can deliver the performance I need. However, I take issue with the narrative that darker skin tones are inherently unappealing or represent people from a certain background. Ultimately, talent should be the deciding factor,” she says.
Considering Kakothy’s appearance changes drastically from childhood to adulthood, it is clear that her grimy, unkept look validates body and skin colour stereotypes associated with gypsies. The whole sequence featuring the gypsies, when you view it through a contemporary lens, is depicted without any scrap of dignity.
Kamal repeated the same a decade later in Nammal (2002), painting Bhavana, who made her debut, many shades darker. The reason? The character belonged to an impoverished part of the locality.
He continued this practice in Karutha Pakshikal (2006), casting Mammootty as a brown-faced immigrant Tamilian in Kerala. In fact, his entire family and community are depicted in a similar manner. While one concedes the director’s call to prioritise commercial practicality, hoping that Mammootty will attract a broader audience, it again comes back to the importance of authentic representation and a more thoughtful approach to storytelling.
One part of the problem can also be in the deliberate choice of opting for a brown face over a tanned face. While a tanned face (Mammootty’s in Amaram (1991), Mohanlal in Thazhvaram) is a technique used to create a sun-kissed, or naturally darker complexion, a brown face involves applying heavy, dark makeup to alter the actor’s appearance.
On the other hand, the film industry also has a concerning tendency to typecast actors, based on their skin tone. This means actors with darker skin tones are often relegated to playing specific roles that enable stereotypes.
Kani Kusruthi, Nimisha Sajayan, Kalabhavan Mani, and Vinayakan have been the casualties of this typecasting, among others. They are frequently cast in roles that reinforce colourist bias, denying them opportunities to showcase their versatility and range.
This typecasting is not only unfair to the actors, but also contributes to a lack of representation and diversity in Malayalam cinema. “Kalabhavan Mani's career, restricted to diabolical characters despite his talent, was tragic. The shift to visual music mediums has also deprived talented Dalit musicians and singers of opportunities,” reminds Venkiteswaran.
Neelima Menon has worked in the newspaper industry for more than a decade. She has covered Hindi and Malayalam cinema for The New Indian Express and has worked briefly with Silverscreen.in. She now writes exclusively about Malayalam cinema, contributing to Fullpicture.in and thenewsminute.com. She is known for her detailed and insightful features on misogyny and the lack of representation of women in Malayalam cinema.
Views expressed are the author’s own.