Rekhachithram: This Asif Ali thriller is a subtle tribute to 80s Malayalam cinema
Rekhachithram (Malayalam)With its plunge into a 40-year-old murder, the planting of a humiliated police officer on the spot and a suicide in the thick of the woods, Rekhachithram, as it begins, seems to fit the mould of the standard mystery thriller designed to keep you on tenterhooks. It does too for a while, until it begins to uncover the past and takes a detour into the world of 1980s Malayalam cinema. To anyone with a fondness for the movies from that era—including many even from the later generations with the internet to thank—Rekhachithram becomes a subtle tribute to a precious time in Malayalam cinema. It does not make a noise of it, does not try to force nostalgia into the mood, but manages to weave in backstories of known films and artistes, creating an alternate reality that rouses the film lover in you. It is easier to imagine director Jofin T Chacko beginning with an idea of sneaking into a lost time—the golden age of cinema—and then fitting a crime into the picture as an excuse to recreate that world. The film, after a brief prelude, begins cosily, with easy exchanges between characters as Asif Ali is introduced as a suspended cop and his father (Harisree Ashokan in an adorable role) takes friendly digs at him. These are short and quick intros, perhaps cut down by a strict editor, for the focus of Jofin’s film lies elsewhere. But the cuts may have gone too deep into the backstory, which seems to have been shaped in a hurry. John Manthrickal and Ramu Sunil must share Jofin’s interest in films of the 80s, for they have sat down to write a script, meticulously digging into Bharathan’s classic Kathodu Kathoram (1985), into a popular Ouseppachan song, into the nature of film journalism, and the ways of junior artistes back then. Interestingly, the song – ‘Devadoothar Padi’ – was recently featured in another film, Nna Thaan Case Kodu, and even that version has been incorporated in Rekhachithram. Asif Ali’s character, Vivek, urgently needs to rebuild his reputation and he literally dives into the site of the 40 year old murder, eager to unearth a skeleton and begin an investigation. With flashes of frustration, earnestness, and a certain amount of detachment, Asif gives a masterly touch to his character. Mammootty, the star of Kathodu Kathoram, also becomes a constant presence in Rekhachithram, written into the film cleverly enough to let you imagine him just a step away from where the camera looked. It would have been fine if the film left it at that, for the use of artificial intelligence (AI) appears to hamper the originality and scream out the obvious. This is of course, subjective. More convincing are the younger look-alikes of other real life characters, such as Bharathan, John Paul and Kamal, even if they don’t elicit a ‘wow’ effect. It is also nice to see Anaswara Rajan in a role big enough to mark her presence, prove her skills as an actor who can easily emote and be in control of what she emotes — be it sudden bursts of excitement or quick flashes of sadness. The nostalgia factor may take your mind off other inadequacies in the script, such as the unconvincing presentation of Manoj K Jayan’s character or the less-defined role of Bhama Arun alongside Asif. Indrans plays a short but affecting character, while Zarin Shihab seems underutilised. It is also strange that the characters of Anaswara and Zarin were painted with unnatural tans, given the script does not explain the need for it. The make-up department, in that way, brings a setback, for Megha Thomas’s (playing another character) aged face looks very much a farce. The thriller still manages to keep it balanced, not going overboard with its elements of suspense, and giving small highs until the end. 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 producers or any other members of its cast and crew.
WITH its plunge into a 40-year-old murder, the planting of a humiliated police officer on the spot and a suicide in the thick of the woods, Rekhachithram, as it begins, seems to fit the mould of the standard mystery thriller designed to keep you on tenterhooks.
It does too for a while, until it begins to uncover the past and takes a detour into the world of 1980s Malayalam cinema. To anyone with a fondness for the movies from that era—including many even from the later generations with the internet to thank—Rekhachithram becomes a subtle tribute to a precious time in Malayalam cinema.
It does not make a noise of it, does not try to force nostalgia into the mood, but manages to weave in backstories of known films and artistes, creating an alternate reality that rouses the film lover in you.
It is easier to imagine director Jofin T Chacko beginning with an idea of sneaking into a lost time—the golden age of cinema—and then fitting a crime into the picture as an excuse to recreate that world.
The film, after a brief prelude, begins cosily, with easy exchanges between characters as Asif Ali is introduced as a suspended cop and his father (Harisree Ashokan in an adorable role) takes friendly digs at him.
These are short and quick intros, perhaps cut down by a strict editor, for the focus of Jofin’s film lies elsewhere. But the cuts may have gone too deep into the backstory, which seems to have been shaped in a hurry.
John Manthrickal and Ramu Sunil must share Jofin’s interest in films of the 80s, for they have sat down to write a script, meticulously digging into Bharathan’s classic Kathodu Kathoram (1985), into a popular Ouseppachan song, into the nature of film journalism, and the ways of junior artistes back then. Interestingly, the song – ‘Devadoothar Padi’ – was recently featured in another film, Nna Thaan Case Kodu, and even that version has been incorporated in Rekhachithram.
Asif Ali’s character, Vivek, urgently needs to rebuild his reputation and he literally dives into the site of the 40 year old murder, eager to unearth a skeleton and begin an investigation. With flashes of frustration, earnestness, and a certain amount of detachment, Asif gives a masterly touch to his character.
Mammootty, the star of Kathodu Kathoram, also becomes a constant presence in Rekhachithram, written into the film cleverly enough to let you imagine him just a step away from where the camera looked. It would have been fine if the film left it at that, for the use of artificial intelligence (AI) appears to hamper the originality and scream out the obvious. This is of course, subjective.
More convincing are the younger look-alikes of other real-life characters, such as Bharathan, John Paul and Kamal, even if they don’t elicit a ‘wow’ effect. It is also nice to see Anaswara Rajan in a role big enough to mark her presence, prove her skills as an actor who can easily emote and be in control of what she emotes — be it sudden bursts of excitement or quick flashes of sadness.
The nostalgia factor may take your mind off other inadequacies in the script, such as the unconvincing presentation of Manoj K Jayan’s character or the less-defined role of Bhama Arun alongside Asif. Indrans plays a short but affecting character, while Zarin Shihab seems underutilised.
It is also strange that the characters of Anaswara and Zarin were painted with unnatural tans, given the script does not explain the need for it. The make-up department, in that way, brings a setback, for Megha Thomas’s (playing another character) aged face looks very much a farce.
The thriller still manages to keep it balanced, not going overboard with its elements of suspense, and giving small highs until the end.
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 producers or any other members of its cast and crew.
