Janani K

What does a spy thriller warrant in 2026? Pan-India ambition, big scale and even bigger stars? That’s mostly what most directors are aiming for. But Mahesh Narayanan does the unthinkable with Patriot — a largely engaging intelligence procedural featuring the Big M’s of Malayalam cinema and most of the industry’s popular faces. He keeps it grounded, letting the story lead rather than the stardom or pan-India ambition. The film begins with Dr Daniel James (Mammootty), a scientific analyst who works for the government agency DRW. A false case pushes him to quit and fly to London, where he runs a YouTube channel called Vimathan — meaning dissident — through which he exposes how civilians are being monitored via their laptops and phones.

There’s a vague similarity between Kara and Dhanush’s recent directorial Idli Kadai — both feature him as a grief-stricken son fulfilling his father’s wish. While Idli Kadai leaned dramatic, Kara builds genuine tension, especially in its robbery sequences. Kara is the stronger film of the two, though both arrive at a similar destination: good, but short of great. The film opens with Kara aka Karasaaami (Dhanush), who has committed to do his last robbery. He teaches his aide how to rob as it could help him, and he wants to get married to Selli (Mamitha Baiju). He succeeds in the plan, well, mostly. But, Kara is forced to return to his village to meet his father to sell his land for money to set up a hotel (aka mess), which could help them lead a dignified life.

A film’s mood is established in its initial few minutes. Pallichattambi opens with massive hype surrounding a feudal lord who oppresses people, without revealing his face. The narrative follows how the Church stood against the communist government in the 1950s, highlighting the history of the Liberation Struggle. Set in 1958 in the village of Kaaniyar, the story follows the Church as it seeks a strong protector against the rising influence of Communist workers. They find Krishnan Pillai, also known as Pallichattambi (the church rowdy), as their unlikely messiah. Pillai arrives in Kaaniyar as Pothan Christopher with the sole aim of halting the spread of communism.

Imagine Chennai in 2040, transformed into a bustling metropolis resembling Times Square on its busiest day. Monorails traverse the skyline, government hospitals resemble hi-tech labs, and drones deliver goods across a hyperconnected city. This is the world Vignesh Shivan creates in Love Insurance Kompany, portraying a technologically advanced yet emotionally distant society dominated by apps, especially one called Love Insurance Kompany, led by the mysterious Suriyan.

There is a scene in director Someetharan’s Neelira where a group of children is playing outdoors in the midst of the Sri Lankan civil war in 1988. One of them blurts," What’s a game without guns?," as they indulge in a shooting game. It takes only one scene to put everything into context. These are children who should be playing hopscotch or hide-and-seek. Instead, they are thinking about shooting each other.

Muthu Alias Kaattaan, starring Vijay Sethupathi, begins on a shocking note. A few minutes into the first episode, a local villager discovers a severed head perched on top of a rock — with no body in sight. It is the kind of opening that promises a gripping, atmospheric mystery. Across 10 episodes on JioHotstar, the series attempts to deliver on that promise. Does it get there? Let’s find out! The village police station is facing an existential crisis — negligible cases have brought it to the brink of shutdown. When officer Kalai Pandiyan (Vadivel Murugan) receives a call about the severed head, he seizes the opportunity and nudges his seniors to take up the case. An elderly villager (Balaji Sakthivel) identifies the dead man as Muthu, and the investigation begins.

Investigative thrillers have been done to death in cinema. They hit screens every week, follow familiar beats, and more often than not, blur into each other. The rare ones that stand apart share one quality — they never take the audience for granted. They treat viewers as intelligent, engaged participants in the puzzle rather than passive observers waiting to be told the answer. The question Mrithyunjay raises from the outset is a simple one: does it earn its place among those films?

Imagine a foul-mouthed matriarch who terrorises everyone with her mere presence, yet delivers the most valuable lesson on independence, agency and womanhood. If you operate on social media’s version of morality, your mind will immediately question this dichotomy. But Sivakumar Murugesan’s Thaai Kizhavi grounds you, drags you back to real life and makes you laugh while quietly asking the most important question of all — what does it mean to truly live, rather than merely exist in someone else’s shadow?