For a film about a serial killer with over a dozen victims—though the police estimate a number, and the killer privately reveals there may be even more—surprisingly few violent scenes are shown. This is a relief for two reasons: first, the film doesn't mimic the explicit style of Korean thrillers, though the story is just as ambitious; second, there is a strong narrative reason for this choice. When the first murder happens, the casual lead-up serves to amplify the coldness of the act.
That Mammootty is the antagonist is no spoiler for anyone familiar with the promos. And playing a man who is bad to women, for various twisted reasons, is not fresh territory for him, from films like Kariyila Kaattu Pole to the most recent Rorschach. But the beauty of Kalamkaval and, in turn, Mammootty, is that it can make you feel like the man is playing an evil man for the first time. I always say that some of the greatest performances are those that make you feel possessed by not the actor playing the character, but the character itself. When you walk out of the theatre and feel that some of the mannerisms of Stanley Das (Mammootty) have slightly rubbed off on you, there can't be better evidence, is there?
Jithin K. Jose's directorial debut works like a mystery book from a smartphone-free past, divided by chapters with interesting titles. And you begin to wonder whether the film's slightly yellowish colour palette was meant to create the sense of events leaping off the pages of a long-discarded novel. Or perhaps they are meant to match the stained notebooks in which this killer accurately reproduces, with his felt pen, the portraits of his female victims. This activity alone suggests a man of impeccable photographic memory, of a vast imagination. What's his profession? Why is he doing this? Does he kill only women?
Kalamkaval is a story in pursuit of the answers to not these three questions but others too. It's a perfect example of a thriller that demonstrates that sometimes more fun can be had with a crime story where the killer's identity is already known to us, but not to the sleuths.
It takes relish in delighting us with numerous surprises, achieved through the combined virtuosic zeal of Jithin K. Jose's economical filmmaking and Praveen Prabhakar's seamless, magical editing. The surprises don't cease to come even when the end credits roll. Of course, some are bound to question the lack of completeness with regard to certain resolutions, but where's the fun in that? When two heavyweight talents like Mammootty and Vinayakan are involved, why settle for something ordinary? The latter’s police role is his best since the one in 2022's Oruthee. The character comes with an interesting backstory, mentioned as a casual joke early on, which becomes relevant in the film’s closing moments.
It would be hyperbole to compare this film to David Fincher's Zodiac, but there are places in Kalamkaval that share the same unnerving qualities. The Fincher film makes us uncomfortable because the real-life killer hasn't yet been found. The latter makes us uncomfortable because that earth-shattering pre-interval takes everything into a whole different dimension.
And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the impact of Mujeeb Majeed's refreshingly original score and soundtrack: not a retread of what we heard in Kishkindha Kaandam and Eko, but different altogether. I don't think I've seen a retro Tamil song (specifically created for this film) employed to such chilling effect in any film before. Majeed's work, combined with the eerie art design and a maroon 1986 Honda Accord (with two 13s on its license plate), occasionally imbues the film with the ambiance of a ghost story. How fitting for a film where Mammootty behaves like a spectre!
Film: Kalamkaval
Director: Jithin K. Jose
Cast: Mammootty, Vinayakan, Gibin Gobinath, Rajisha Vijayan, Shruti Ramachandran
Rating: 4.5/5