Akhil Anilkumar’s Thalavara is an underdog story that carries the breeziness of a small-town entertainer but never loses sight of its deeper intent. At its heart, the film follows Jyothish (Arjun Ashokan), a timid young man with vitiligo whose dream of acting is met with scepticism, ridicule, and rejection, but he gradually discovers strength in confronting his fears. What makes Thalavara work is its sincerity. The film never sensationalises Jyothish’s insecurities, nor does it trivialise the harshness of everyday jibes and subtle discrimination he faces. Instead, Akhil, co-writing with Appu Aslam, uses humour, romance and slices of small-town chaos to create a film that is both entertaining and heartfelt. Much like Ranjith Shankar-Jayasurya's Su Su Sudhi Vathmeekam, which celebrated the triumph of a stammering protagonist, this is a tale that inspires without being preachy.
Director: Akhil Anilkumar
Cast: Arjun Ashokan, Revathy Sharma, Ashokan, Devadarshini Chetan, Sarath Sabha, Athira Maryam
The first hour of Thalavara moves briskly, combining a playful tone with grounded drama. We are introduced to Jyothish’s circle of friends, each saddled with their own quirky nicknames, his cinema-loving father Kannappan (Ashokan), and his hot-tempered mother Asha (Devadarshini Chetan). Akhil sets up this world with warmth and comic ease, drawing us into Jyothish’s insecurities while ensuring the film doesn’t get bogged down in self-pity. Even the protagonist’s nickname, “Panda”, becomes a device to highlight the difference between affectionate teasing and cruel derision.
The romance is particularly well written and beautifully staged. Revathy Sharma, a Malayali settled in Chennai who debuted with the Tamil film Garudan in 2024, is a revelation in her Malayalam debut as Sandhya, a Tamil-speaking character. Far from being a passive love interest, she is written with agency, guiding Jyothish through his self-doubts with an empathy that never feels forced. A highlight is the film’s tender love track, 'Ilakozhiye', which is staged with such visual charm that it deepens the relationship beyond words.
Sandhya’s explanation to a friend about why she admires Jyothish--not despite his condition but because he carries himself without feeling lesser--encapsulates the film’s central theme of quiet resilience. Akhil also weaves in sharp, thoughtful moments without disrupting the flow. One such scene involves Jyothish finally lashing out at his friends for always calling him Panda, contrasting his nickname with theirs, which are rooted in admiration. Another standout scene is the one where Sandhya, during a walk up a water tower, tells Jyothish to rise above petty insults: as they climb, the loud noise of an argument downstairs fades, becoming a metaphor for what it means to grow and move beyond. These exchanges feel organic, not staged for effect, which is why they resonate.
Arjun delivers a career-best turn that is also his most endearing performance yet. He embodies Jyothish’s awkwardness, hesitation and occasional bursts of confidence so convincingly that every insult thrown at him stings the audience too. His conviction in the final act is what holds the film together, ensuring it lands emotionally even when certain other portions falter. The supporting cast, too, lends texture. Devadarshini, as Jyothish’s mother, brings depth to a somewhat one-note arc of the nagging parent who wants a better life for her son. Ashokan, as the father, brings comic lightness, playing a film-crazed fanatic. Sarath Sabha and Athira Maryam also leave impressions as part of Jyothish’s close circle.
Yet, Thalavara is not without its flaws. After a taut first half, the second hour doesn’t always maintain the same grip. A sequence in which Jyothish attends an audition involving a drugged-out star son and an exploitative producer tries to mirror real-life industry issues, but its satirical edge feels parodical rather than incisive. Similarly, certain attempts to show the darker underbelly of auditions, though relevant, play out more like narrative detours than seamless progressions. These stretches act as speed breakers in an otherwise engaging flow.
Thankfully, the script recovers with telling exchanges that re-centre the film’s purpose. When Jyothish declares that nothing has changed in cinema, the short film director who first encouraged him, retorts that perhaps it is Jyothish himself who needs to take the first step. It is a reminder that transformation requires participation, not just waiting for the world to change. Likewise, the touching reconciliation scene between Jyothish and his sister Jyoti underscores the idea of pursuing happiness despite society’s judgements.
Akhil, as a filmmaker, demonstrates a stronger command over his narrative here than in his half-baked debut. Even when a few stretches lose sharpness, the film rarely feels disjointed, thanks to its emotional consistency. The writing keeps throwing obstacles across Jyothish’s path, yet each setback becomes a moment to nurture hope. The film’s technical craft is assured, never drawing attention to itself.
Rahul Radhakrishnan’s editing keeps the running time tight at two hours, while Anurudh Aneesh’s frames capture both the protagonist’s inner turmoil and the delicate charm of his romance with Sandhya. Rather than dictating what to feel, Electronic Kili’s music enhances the mood, grounding important scenes with subtle power. National Award-winning make-up artist Ranjith Ambady also deserves mention for ensuring Jyothish’s vitiligo is portrayed with authenticity.
Despite its familiar structure, Thalavara distinguishes itself through grounded storytelling and a striking relatability. While it explores the familiar theme of acting aspirations, the film also reflects on the industry’s harsh beauty standards, cruelties, and slow winds of change. By staying authentic and steering clear of vulgarity or the current wave of gratuitous violence, it earns the space of a genuine family watch. More importantly, it isn’t merely about an aspiring actor’s dream but about the universal fight for acceptance and dignity. Though uneven in the second hour, Akhil’s film remains sincere, hopeful, and ultimately rewarding.