Mammootty in the post-pandemic era has been a different beast. Though he has always embraced unconventional roles, the last few years have seen him consistently pushing the boundaries of what’s expected of a superstar-actor. The latest example: Kalamkaval. The film’s premise already offers enough promise for an actor of his stature, but it becomes even more compelling when he opts for a complete role reversal. And make no mistake—he isn’t playing a circumstantial villain or a misunderstood man with sympathetic motives. This is pure, unfiltered evil.

Director: Jithin K Jose

Cast: Mammootty, Vinayakan, Rajisha Vijayan, Jibin Gopinath

Rating: 3.5/5

Kalamkaval is unmistakably inspired by Cyanide Mohan, the serial killer convicted of murdering multiple women. But writer-director Jithin K Jose and co-writer Jishnu Sreekumar aren’t interested in a biographical retelling. Instead, they take select traits and modus operandi to craft an investigative thriller. Though the real incidents unfolded on the Kerala-Karnataka border, the film shifts its geography to a Kerala-Tamil Nadu belt, a milieu Malayalam cinema hasn’t explored deeply. It also gives Mammootty room to play with a new dialect, something he has always excelled at. While it may faintly recall his deliberately humorous Rajamanikyam slang, he ensures a distinct identity through subtle variations and modulations.

The plot begins with a missing-woman case in rural Thiruvananthapuram, which soon spirals into a near-communal flare-up. As the police dig deeper, they detect a chilling pattern: several women on either side of the border have disappeared over the years under the pretext of eloping. Jayakrishnan (Vinayakan), a police officer revered for his track record, takes charge of the investigation. Structured in chapters, the narrative often cuts between the killer and the cops, and with Mammootty playing the former, it’s no surprise which part is more riveting.

From the opening sequence, you see Mammootty almost dissolve into the role, mirroring his character’s ability to leave no trace behind. It’s fascinating to watch him embody a habitual womaniser without ever turning lewd. His composed demeanour and effortless charm suggest a man who has perfected his routine over the years. Even rare setbacks don’t rattle him; he simply shifts tactics with unnerving ease. In a superbly edited montage, we glimpse his encounters as Vivek, Joshua, Rajesh, Sethu, Lijo, Ameer… The names change, but the creepy brown Honda Accord, the drifting smoke rings, and the beautifully haunting ‘Nilaa Kaayum’ remain constant.

Jithin’s earlier credit, Kurup (also based on a real criminal), for which he penned the story, was criticised for glorifying its protagonist. Perhaps for that reason, he seems more cautious here. Extra points for avoiding sexual violence while still delivering the required chills. He also sidesteps the overused trope of elaborate flashbacks or origin-story monologues that risk humanising serial killers. Instead, a few photographs, accompanied by a chilling voiceover from a character who we expect to be at the other end of the spectrum, offer enough hints. Only then does the opening quote, “The venom beneath can’t be suppressed forever,” click into place.

And yet, one can’t shake the feeling that Kalamkaval would have worked better as a pure character study, rather than being confined to the framework of an investigative thriller. Set in a pre-CCTV era, the investigation relies heavily on phone numbers and location traces, which are hardly the most interesting cinematic tools. Despite murmurs of a massive manhunt, we rarely feel its scale, with Jayakrishnan and his unusually supportive superior (Biju Pappan) mostly restricted to basic procedural steps. Naturally, the cat-and-mouse chase never truly crackles, and the eventual breakthrough feels disappointingly dated. Jayakrishnan, supposed to be a strong opponent, taking the backseat for too long also means it never feels like a clash between two equals. The script hints at a far more layered character beneath Jayakrishnan’s devout cop exterior, but never explores enough to create a worthy adversary.

So is it a good or bad thing when a performance lingers longer than the film itself? Hard to tell. But that’s precisely the case with Kalamkaval. It’s a role few would dare attempt, and Mammootty approaches it with the conviction of a man who believes, as his character says, “Higher the risk, greater the satisfaction.”