Diés Iraé

‘Bhoothakaalam’ and ‘Baramayugam’ are two promising horror films that came from Malayalam cinema and also found their audience across the country. These two horror films in particular introduced director Rahul Sadasivan to the world, who, with his penchant for the genre, crafted two brilliant masterpieces that earned the love of the audience. Especially when horror has almost become a joke in Indian cinema, he is back with his third horror film offering, ‘Dies Irae’.

Rahul Sadasivan’s newest horror film, Dies Irae, portrays itself as more than just a haunted house exercise. In addition to jump scares and well-executed visual fright-craft, the title Dies Irae (Latin for “Day of Wrath”) alludes to a reckoning, something ominous. Let’s dive into the story of the Dies Irae movie and ending, explained here. Our hero is called Rohan, and he is the rich-brat-mega-mansion-owner type. Played by actor and Mohanlal‘s son Pranav Mohanlal, he has the house, the money, the parties, the friends. He also has a casual indifference toward those he considers inferior to him, which is pretty much everyone.

Horror really hits home when it is evoked in the mundane. Only when one encounters it in the unlikeliest of forms would the chill seep slowly, imperceptibly down our spine. In Dies Irae, Rahul Sadasivan mines horror out of even a gentle breeze caressing a person’s hair, so much so that after the movie, the feeling of wind in the hair somewhat ceases to be exhilarating as it used to be. There is more…fear, passed on to us through something as commonplace as a ray of light or the click sound of a hair clip.

Rahul Sadasivan has a thing for singular settings. His genre can often be defined as chamber horror. In Bhoothakaalam, the film that announced him, it is the dysfunctional domestic abode that is both the place and the protagonist. In Bramayugam, a 17th-century mana belonging to a Namboothiri, shot in glorious monochrome, makes us wonder if it is haunted or is the object that haunts.

When a film about paranormal activity in real, lived-in spaces emerges, the first thing that strikes us is questions. The tried-and-tested way to dodge them is by throwing religion or folklore into the mix. Rahul Sadasivan’s Dies Irae stands out as a rare horror film that largely resists that shortcut. It raises questions, answers some, leaves a few to the imagination, and saves others for possible sequels.