Thrayam Movie Review: A rudimentary hyperlink film full of dull performances

There was a period in Malayalam cinema when films like Traffic and Chappa Kurishu sparked a wave of multi-narrative thrillers, each aspiring to show how destiny entangles lives on one fateful day. Thrayam seems to have been conceived during that era and only made now. Directed by Sanjith Chandrasenan, the multi-narrative film tries to weave together several stories and a dozen characters across a single night of chaos but ends up with a plot as jumbled as a half-forgotten tale.

Director: Sanjith Chandrasenan

Cast: Dhyan Sreenivasan, Sunny Wayne, Anarkali Marikar, Aju Varghese, Vivek Anirudh, Chandhunadh, Preethy Gino, Sarayu Mohan

In case anyone’s wondering, the title Thrayam means "trio" or "set of three," a lofty nod to the film’s collection of storylines. However, this “trio” isn’t so much a coordinated set of tales as it is a tangled mess of misguided decisions, all unfolding under the dim glow of poor judgement. For example, take Elsa (Preethy Gino), a hustler with expertise in honey traps. She lures men into compromising situations for money, all while carrying on a relationship with Neena (Anarkali Marikar), who seems blissfully uninterested in her partner’s side activities. Elsa’s latest prey are Aashiq (Dhyan Sreenivasan) and Jomon (Vivek Anirudh), old friends she expertly pits against each other. Just when they attempt to resist her schemes, a chain of consequences ensues, though whether they were intended to make any sense is doubtful.

Elsewhere, a band of goons are making money by secretly recording intimate moments with women and using the footage to blackmail them. Their journey on this fateful night includes a bizarre romantic montage told in flashback, apparently aimed at adding “depth” to the main thug’s backstory as he recalls luring a girl into romance for blackmail. Meanwhile, Harry (Sunny Wayne) finds himself trying to deliver a car, only to encounter a dead body on the way. The characters drift through the night with minimal logic or forethought. Aashiq, for instance, on the verge of staging a robbery, apparently forgets that CCTV cameras exist—a lapse that might make sense if Thrayam was intended as a parody. Unfortunately, the film presents every decision with an almost alarming seriousness, as if expecting the audience to take this collection of poor choices seriously.

The overarching thread connecting these night wanderers is Rahul Madhav’s cop character, who wraps up each storyline with all the enthusiasm of someone tallying receipts at the end of a long day. By the time the film reaches its grand conclusion, one doesn't feel a sense of poetic justice, as the film might hope, but of sheer bewilderment at the pointlessness of the film. Sanjith’s direction, unfortunately, matches the mediocre quality of Arun K Gopinaath's writing: scenes cycle through the same setups and camera angles like a stuck record, giving viewers a sense of deja vu without offering anything fresh. This, paired with sub-par performances, turns the experience into a two-hour endurance test. Around the interval, Aju Varghese’s auto driver character shares a meta-moment with a popular scenarist who is trying to piece together a new script during their ride. When Aju inquires about the scenarist's future plans, he reveals that he’s currently working on a story that has only reached the halfway point. Aju suggests he write a big-budget potboiler, to which the scenarist admits he has aspirations for such a project but is focused on a tale unfolding over a single night. Aju then reassures him that since the screenplay holds up nicely until the interval, the rest will surely come together. This moment is ironically placed in Thrayam, a film that struggles to maintain a cohesive narrative.

As for the cast, the actors seem just as perplexed as their characters. Dhyan’s Aashiq has an air of confusion throughout, as though trying to make sense of his own choices. Ironically, this marks the actor's 11th film this year; barring one or two, the rest have been lacklustre at best. One can't help but wonder if he’s trying to set a record for the most forgettable performances in a year. Meanwhile, Sunny delivers his scenes with all the energy of someone fulfilling a notice period while leaving a job. And then there’s the film's supposed message on karma—the idea that one’s deeds will eventually come back to haunt them. Unfortunately, this theme is as strained as the plot. If karma really does come full circle, Thrayam might just be its own ironic punishment.