With Sreenivasan’s passing, it is truly the end of an era in Malayalam cinema—one in which he made Malayali audiences laugh wholeheartedly while also provoking critical thought that remains relevant even today. His humour carried anger, compassion, and deep political awareness, turning laughter into a tool of resistance. He mastered the art of blending comedy with meaning, making profound ideas accessible even to the most ordinary viewer.
Across a four-decade-long career, Sreenivasan earned acclaim both as an actor and a writer, but it is the latter that will define his legacy for generations to come. He once admitted that he took to writing out of compulsion—to realise his acting ambitions. That compulsion, however, gifted Malayalam cinema a treasure trove of stories that continue to resonate.
His writing thrived on sharp satire and social commentary, beautifully wrapped in the warmth of rib-tickling humour. Rooted in harsh everyday realities and social hypocrisies, his stories arrived at a time when Malayalam cinema was still struggling to break free from the clutches of overt melodrama and archaic language. Sreenivasan steered clear of these conventions, choosing instead to speak in the idiom of the common man. His films spoke directly to the average Malayali—his insecurities, desires, failures, politics, relationships... His heroes, or rather protagonists—Sethu/Ram Singh (Gandhinagar 2nd Street), Gopalakrishnan (Sanmanassullavarkku Samadhanam), Balagopalan (T. P. Balagopalan M.A.), Dasan and Vijayan (Nadodikkattu), or CP (Vellanakalude Naadu)—were men grappling with societal pressures, family obligations, and financial instability.
Though he began writing to sustain his acting career, Sreenivasan never envisioned himself as the archetypal flawless hero. Instead, he embraced self-deprecatory humour to drive home his points. Most characters he wrote for himself were flawed and deeply familiar, most memorably in Vadakkunokkiyanthram and Chinthavishtayaya Shyamala, the only two films he directed. One explored crippling inferiority and male insecurity within marriage, while the other dissected the irresponsibility of a conventional family man—both quietly questioning traditional notions of masculinity. As an actor, Sreenivasan was at his best in such understated roles.
Sreenivasan also often took on contemporary politics by its horns, critiquing mainstream parties and their excesses with biting wit. Sandesam, often cited among the greatest Indian films of all time, stands as the finest example. By bringing political conflict home, the film exposed the absurdities of ideological extremism through two quarrelling brothers and their helpless father, who bears the brunt of his sons' absurdities. Though frequently labelled apolitical, its true intention was always to challenge blind political fanaticism. Vellanakalude Naadu, Varavelpu, and Midhunam further showcased his mastery over social commentary.
Such was the sharpness of Sreenivasan’s lines that it would not be an exaggeration to say that hardly a day passes without someone quoting him. From “Polandine patti oraksharam mindaruth” to “yanthrangalude pravarthanam…” and “ente thala, ente full figure,” his words continue to find resonance—even among Gen Z audiences. Yet, Sreenivasan’s legacy extends beyond iconic lines and unforgettable characters. It lies in his courage to speak the truth without seeking approval.
“The films I didn’t do are my biggest contribution to cinema,” Sreenivasan once said. We beg to differ.