Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra Movie Review: A blazing reimagination of a home-grown world of myth

Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra plants its flag with the declaration, “Some legends have an element of truth,” and from that moment, it invites us into a world Malayalam cinema has rarely dared to enter. This is a film of ambition and spectacle, rooted in familiar Kerala folklore yet dressed in the colours of neon and flame. Instead of easing us into the story, it throws us into a city under siege. Buildings burn like monuments of collapse, their flames less accidental and more deliberate destruction. 

Director: Arun Dominic

Cast: Kalyani Priyadarshan, Naslen, Chandu Salimkumar, Arun Kurian, Sandy

Out of this chaos crouches Chandra (Kalyani Priyadarshan), her gaze burning with unyielding determination. Behind her, the inferno roars, turning her into a figure of both warrior and avenger. Around her, soldiers in tactical combat gear move like shadows, rifles raised, but she carves through them with almost supernatural power. By the time she secures her objective and receives a summons from the higher being Moothon through an intermediary, we already know she is not like the rest of us.

From this fiery opening, the story relocates to Bengaluru, where Chandra takes up night shifts at a café, her dark, gothic air drawing glances from across the street. In the apartment opposite live Sunny (Naslen) and Venu (Chandu Salimkumar), often joined by their friend Nigel (Arun Kurian). What begins as casual curiosity turns into quiet obsession: Sunny is captivated, yet he also senses that something about her does not quite belong. The film drops subtle clues that Chandra, though she looks no older than her late twenties, may have walked the earth for centuries. This is where director Arun Dominic’s craft in world-building shines, offering fragments instead of exposition and inviting us to piece together her mystery.

At the centre is Kalyani, giving one of her strongest performances to date. She plays Chandra with a measured intensity, and the composure fits naturally, suggesting the weight of long-lived experience. Her silences hint at an inner history, and when the film shifts into combat, she unleashes a fierce precision, moving through sharply designed sequences with conviction. The action is mounted with unusual polish for Malayalam cinema, the visual effects serving the story rather than overwhelming it, and Kalyani’s presence makes each strike feel inevitable.

On a visual level, Lokah stands among the most striking works Malayalam cinema has produced in recent years. Cinematographer Nimish Ravi transforms Bengaluru into something that could have stepped straight out of a cyberpunk vision, drenched in searing reds, electric blues, and molten orange. One image in particular lingers: Chandra suspended against a luminous full moon, the city sprawling beneath her, a signboard marked 'Selene’s' winking at the mythology of the moon goddess. The production design by Banglan also never falters, each composition expanding the film’s universe beyond the borders of the screen.

Lokah’s most arresting passage comes with the unveiling of Chandra’s real identity, staged like a dark fairytale. In this sequence, familiar folklore is invoked but twisted in a way that feels daring and unexpected. The reveal carries a sense of wonder, lifted by Jakes Bejoy’s incredible score, which swells into something grand and mythical, even if his score feels more conventional in many other stretches. It is a turning point that leaves you grinning at the sheer boldness of the imagination behind it.

Another of the film’s strengths is its humour. Naslen once again shows his instinct for comic timing, lifting even ordinary exchanges with ease. Chandu, at times, carries shades of his father Salim Kumar’s charm. A particularly delightful moment comes when Chandra admits she feels uneasy around blood, and Venu quickly agrees that he, too, tends to faint at the sight. When she asks if that is not strange for a doctor, his quick reply, “Njan pass aayittilla! (I haven’t passed!),” lands with a spontaneity reminiscent of his father.

The antagonist, too, is drawn with equal impact. Sandy, drawing on the menace that marked his role in the Vijay-starrer Leo, throws himself into a performance of pure wickedness. He struts through the part with arrogance, wielding misogyny like a weapon, until the story tilts and crowns him as the true adversary. From then on, he embraces the excess, playing the cruelty with relish.

Cameos slip into the film like little gifts, best unwrapped in the theatre rather than revealed in advance. One in the second half is staged with incredibly comic flair, reuniting a beloved on-screen pair and sparking curiosity about how the saga might expand. It is fan service in the best sense, and holding it back from the promotions makes it land all the more effectively.

For all its visual bravado, Lokah is not without shortcomings. The supposed mission that draws Chandra to Bengaluru is introduced with weight but then abandoned almost immediately, replaced by an organ trafficking subplot that feels far too ordinary for a film that opens with visions of fire, myth and apocalypse. In its latter portions, the film leans more on the mechanics of franchise-building than on telling a fully coherent story. The climactic stretch, after so much build-up, arrives in a rush, giving the impression that the narrative has been set aside to clear space for future instalments. What lingers is the sense of a work-in-progress, a world introduced but not yet realised in full.

Even so, the experience is unforgettable. The flaws of the second half do not erase the achievement of creating a fantasy world that feels genuinely new to Malayalam cinema. For years, we have known that our folklore held endless potential, and it is exhilarating to see it finally tapped on such a grand scale. Lokah is not perfect, but it is bold, and it is exactly the kind of theatrical experience worth celebrating.

The film proves that our stories can burn in fire and neon just as convincingly as they can unfold in realism. If it connects with audiences, it could lay the foundation for something Malayalam cinema has never attempted before, a home-grown mythic universe in the spirit of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, drawn from the legends we grew up with. Legends, after all, do carry an element of truth, and perhaps this is only the beginning.