Akhil Sathyan’s films, knowingly or otherwise, carry a strong Sathyan Anthikad DNA... in a good way. Like his father, Akhil gravitates towards comforting cinema, the kind that naturally acquires a repeat-watch quality. Beyond the updated visual aesthetics, there’s a familiar thematic thread at play: a protagonist transformed by the people he encounters along the way. This Anthikadan signature runs through Akhil’s filmography so far. Be it in his directorial debut Pachuvum Athbutha Vilakkum, or Hridayapoorvam, for which he penned the story, this signature is prevalent, and it extends to Sarvam Maya now. The film unfolds as a pleasant fantasy about a man and a friendly ghost helping each other find closure, which also emerges as its overarching theme.
Director: Akhil Sathyan
Cast: Nivin Pauly, Riya Shibu, Aju Varghese, Janardhanan, Preity Mukhundhan
Sarvam Maya marks the welcome return of the much-loved, guy-next-door version of Nivin Pauly after a long hibernation. He plays Prabhendu, an aspiring guitarist who distances himself from his affluent Nampoothiri household to pursue music. Circumstances force him to return home, and the atheist Nampoothiri, along with his cousin (Aju Varghese), begins exploiting his knowledge of the Vedas and rituals to make quick money. It is during one such exorcism that Prabha encounters a ghost—but not the bloodthirsty, menacing kind Malayalam cinema is used to.
Akhil, who has also scripted the film, steers clear of clichés by presenting the ghost as someone still trying to make sense of her new existence. Riya Shibu plays the character with such irresistible charm that you instantly take a liking to her. Her interactions with Prabha gradually evolve into an affectionate companionship, and they name her ‘Delulu’—meaning illusion—as they set out to uncover her identity and help her attain salvation. These sequences occasionally recall Fazil’s Vismayathumbathu, especially the comic stretches involving a hero interacting with an invisible presence, much to the confusion and amusement of others.
Such effervescent roles are tricky, often bordering on caricature, but Riya confidently puts her best foot forward, infusing remarkable life into the film with her ‘lifeless’ character. Her buoyant performance finds perfect balance in Nivin, who seems to have rediscovered his mojo while operating firmly within his comfort zone. One of the film’s most delightful moments is when he delivers an expression that screams “Angane varan vazhi ilalo” long before the dialogue is spelled out explicitly, underlining that when an actor is this good, words become redundant. Another hilarious moment of his naivety is when he attempts to console someone by casually asking, “Bun-um chaarum kazhikunnille?”, referring to a Vada Pav. Yet, beneath all the humour, Nivin shows commendable restraint in the emotional passages, particularly while dealing with Prabha’s unresolved trauma surrounding his mother’s sudden death and the rift it creates with his father..
For Prabha, Delulu functions much like Anupama for Vinod in Vinodayathra or Irene for Aymanam Sidharthan in Oru Indian Pranayakadha. She nudges him towards fulfilling his musical aspirations, helps him confront his trauma, mend broken ties with his father, and rediscover a lost connection with God. Along the way, Delulu, too, begins to understand herself. However, after patiently building these characters and their dynamic, the narrative briefly wobbles with the introduction of Saadhya (Preity Mukhundhan). The conflict that emerges here feels hurried, and the answers the film has been carefully leading up to are delivered rather abruptly, diluting their emotional credibility. The restraint Akhil maintains until this point momentarily slips, but the strong groundwork ensures a reasonably smooth landing, aided by an emotional payoff and Justin Prabhakaran’s soulful score, which adds considerable gravitas.
Akhil, also the co-editor, isn't in a rush with his storytelling in the early portions, allowing the drama to breathe, an approach that largely pays off. He also has fun by deliberately evoking some of his father's signature touches: the picturesque village introduction, the protagonist’s arrival by bus, and the Dasan–Vijayan–esque camaraderie between Nivin and Aju. While the duo’s episodes are undeniably funny, not all of them are essential to the narrative. Set-pieces like the exorcism at a haunted house or a clash with a bunch of druggies, which eventually escalates into a random action sequence, feel more indulgent than integral. Some blink-and-you-miss jokes, such as pavement dwellers ordering food from KFC via delivery apps or a swing breaking when a heavier child joins in, also sit uneasily in a film that otherwise champions empathy and kindness.
Despite these minor blemishes, Sarvam Maya, with its gentle blend of fantasy, humour, and affection, remains a comforting watch, which could serve as a whiff of fresh air to lift your 'spirits'.