One well-crafted sequence can sometimes make a film worthwhile, even when the film in its totality hits a notch below where it could have. These sequences tell us of the possibilities that a filmmaker holds, and serve as a showreel of someone whose work is worth looking forward to. Such sequences are galore in debutant Sreeraj Sreenivasan’s Pravinkoodu Shappu, partly thanks to cinematographer Shyju Khalid, who has shot some of the major Malayalam films of the past decade. To list out a few, there is a school bus chase sequence that sends chills down your spine due to its clever staging; there are thoughtfully lit night scenes inside a toddy shop, and one by a pond where a murder is taking place under the dim, reddish tail lamps of a vehicle; or like that of a masked man attacking a house at night, seen from the point of view of the woman facing it; or even the opening sequence which juxtaposes a classic nostalgic song with a shocking visual.

If someone were to narrate the story of Identity, directed by Akhil Paul and Anas Khan, chances are that halfway through, the person will get lost in a maze of complicated side stories. It need not have been that way, for at its core, there is a fairly interesting and mostly uncomplicated storyline which holds up the film until the interval point. After that, one can witness the screenwriter being acted upon by the pressure to keep the audience guessing. For, by the halfway point, we almost get an idea of all the principal players and there is little left to uncover. It is at this point that the tedious work of the writer begins, building up elaborate plotlines for the villain’s true intentions and the hero’s real identity (which reminds one of such surprise reveals in quite a few other movies). Several of these plotlines are convoluted. It would require immense amounts of patience to untangle all the motives of the multiple villains in the narrative.

Dream projects often come with their share of self-indulgence and doses of obsession. Yet, somewhere one gets to feel things expressed right from the heart of the maker, who has immersed his soul in this idea for so long. What one misses amid all the plasticity of Barroz, Mohanlal’s dream project and his debut directorial, is such an expression which hits us right where it matters. It is no wonder then that one is largely left untouched by the fantasy drama that plays out over 150 minutes. Part of the reason for how Barroz turned out in the end could be the abrupt exit of Jijo Punnoose, the brilliant brain behind India’s first 3D film My Dear Kuttichathan, in the early stages of the project. One of his major grouses was the drastic tinkering with his original screenplay. His stand appears to be justified since one of the weakest elements of Barroz is its unimaginative screenplay filled with overdramatic dialogues that spoil every other scene.

Dead wild boars and gun-toting humans floating down a zip line from inside a forest to a bungalow, dinner conversations replete with tall tales of hunting and backhanded compliments, residents for whom the gun is the one, and probably only, thing that matters in their lives — this is the world in which Aashiq Abu’s Rifle Club is set. It is a closed world with strict honour codes, which doesn’t bar the characters from mercilessly lampooning the incompetence of someone else in the club. And, almost all of them belong to the same family.

A house, lived in for years, bulldozed by the Israeli military in front of its inhabitants, leaving behind a pile of tangible memories under the rubble. A youth resisting the burning down of an Olive orchard shot down by a settler with practised ease and nonchalance, just as if it were the most normal thing to do. Soldiers violently barging into every single home in a village in search of an Israeli military man who was abducted.

Sometimes, the most gentle turns in a film can create a considerable emotional impact on the viewer. The filmmaker need not necessarily move a mountain to achieve that. Belgian filmmaker Anthony Schatteman’s Young Hearts, with its fresh take on teenage gay romance, is filled with several such moments that flow organically one after the other. Being screened in the World Cinema section at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK), this rather small film about young people has gained appreciation amid a flurry of bigger films boasting wider festival play.

The spark that initiates a work of art can come from anywhere. For Sivaranjini J., it came from the unusual sight of a rooster sitting inside a beauty parlour near her home in Angamaly. Victoria, her debut film which was screened at the Malayalam Cinema Today section at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala on Saturday, is set almost entirely a beauty parlour.

While watching Pierce, the debut feature of former Singapore national fencer Nelicia Low, one would assume that the sport inspired the film, for fencing is at the very centre of the narrative which deals with brotherly affection and psychopathic tendencies. The trademark moves in the sport, which one character defines as chess played with swords, also parallels the behaviour of the characters in the film, screened in the world cinema section at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK) on Saturday (December 14, 2024).

Lijin Jose’s film Her is an anthology, but it is not strictly one. No clear demarcations exist between the five films in the collection, with one segment segueing smoothly into the next, although the characters and narratives are different. However, only two of the films are directly connected, while the rest have characters from other films popping in at some point to connect it all.

For prying eyes, the most innocuous action might seem suspicious. Priyadarshini (Nazriya Nazim) is the one with a bit of nosy behaviour in the neighbourhood in which Sookshmadarshini is set. At times, she almost behaves like the kind of neighbour that no one would ever wish to have. We get an interesting character detail that she is a microbiology graduate, for whom a Sookshmadarshini (microscope) is a part of her trade. Just that her lens is trained more on her neighbour, rather than microbes.