Between Myth & Mind: Where Malayalam Films Let Fantasy Feel

Of Myths & Magic: Padakkalam & Malayalam Cinema’s Tryst With The Fantastical

Tracing a path from Padakkalam , here's a look at the impact of fantastical elements in Malayalam films and how they reimagine ancient mythologies in modern contexts, writes Neelima Menon.

FANTASY in Malayalam films often arrives quietly — not to save the world, but to soothe a broken heart or rewire a tired life. Whether it's a grieving teenager, a jilted lover, or an invisible underdog, the supernatural becomes a vehicle for healing and self-discovery. It’s less about powers, more about perspective.

Swapped bodies, split identities

Jithin (Sandeep Pradeep) in Manu Swaraj's supernatural fantasy comedy, Padakkalam , is an engineering student struggling to come to terms with a devastating breakup. His girlfriend (Niranjana Anoop) has delivered the crushing blow, citing their lack of common interests as the reason for their parting ways. Like many young men his age, Jithin finds it challenging to process this sudden loss, and his mind is reeling with emotions. In college, he is perceived as diffident and dull, which might have contributed to his girlfriend's decision to end the relationship.

As Jithin grapples with the aftermath of his breakup, his life takes a drastic turn when he stumbles upon a shocking secret: his professor, Ranjith ( Sharafudeen ), is dabbling in black magic using an Ouija board. This discovery creates a chain reaction, plunging him into a surreal world of body-swapping chaos. He finds himself inexplicably switching bodies with one of his professors, which also takes a deeper significance as Jithin, a soft-spoken and introverted student, finds himself inhabiting the body of Professor Ranjith, a boorish and arrogant figure. This can be seen as a symbolic battle within Jithin himself, where he's forced to confront his insecurities and tap into a newfound sense of confidence. It can also be deemed as a journey of self-discovery and empowerment for him.

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This also raises questions about identity, self-perception, and the masks we wear in different situations. By walking in Ranjith's shoes, Jithin is compelled to re-evaluate his strengths and weaknesses and perhaps find a more courageous way to face the world. The dichotomy between the two personas becomes more evident when his classmates, who previously overlooked him, now fawn over his confident and assertive demeanour — a stark contrast to his former introverted self. This shift in dynamics raises troubling questions about societal expectations and gender stereotypes. The fact that his peers suddenly admire him for embodying traditionally masculine traits like cockiness and assertiveness highlights the problematic nature of these biases.

Like Padakkalam? Here are other body-swap movies in Malayalam that will keep you intrigued. Watch them on OTTplay Premium.

A similar brain swap concept is there in Binu Sadanandan’s Ithihasa (2014), in which a small-town thief (Shine Tom Chacko) finds himself in the body of a traditional software professional (Anushree). Unlike Padakkalam , the gender swapping is far more complex given the stark differences in their backgrounds, cultures, and societal expectations. But then the narrative glosses over potential safety concerns, opting instead for a predictable romance. The story misses an opportunity to delve deeper into the socio-cultural tensions that could arise from such a drastic shift, simplifying the challenges of navigating unfamiliar identities and environments. This comparison highlights how body-swap narratives can vary in their exploration of themes.

The celestial-human connect

One of the pioneering films to explore the human-celestial connection is the 1984 classic, My Dear Kuttichathan , India's first 3D film. The story follows three children who rescue a mischievous little goblin from the clutches of a dark magician, and he ends up being their loyal friend and confidant. One of the nicest portions includes the goblin being introduced to the human world and his initiation into everyday life. The scenes where the goblin walks on air and the master’s other magical tricks highlight the film's imaginative take on the supernatural. The children's friendship with the goblin also serves as a clever way to tackle real-life issues like bullying, making the fantastical elements feel grounded and relatable.

Watch My Dear Kuttichathan here

Padmarajan’s Njan Gandharvan (1991) is an evocative reimagining of the age-old Gandharvan mythology, set against the backdrop of a modern society deeply entrenched in norms and rigid moralities. At its heart, the film explores the romantic and mystical bond between a teenage girl (Suparna Anand) and a celestial being — a Gandharvan (Niteesh Baradwaj) — who descends from myth into her reality. Unlike traditional narratives where the mythical is feared or treated with reverence from a distance, here the Gandharvan becomes an intimate and sensuous presence in the girl’s life, a figure of both fantasy and forbidden love. The film subtly subverts conventional portrayals of the Gandharvan, who in folklore has often been a symbol of rebellion, desire, and unbridled freedom.

Padmarajan takes this myth and imbues it with a quiet, aching tenderness. The teenage protagonist, on the threshold of womanhood, encounters the Gandharvan not with fear, but with wonder and longing. Each meeting with him becomes an act of sensuous self-discovery. He appears first in a heavenly, ethereal form, then seamlessly blends into the contemporary world, dressed in jeans and shirts, walking beside her like any modern youth. Yet, his otherworldly nature is never in doubt. He is a shapeshifter, taking the forms of a butterfly, a rabbit, a puppy —manifestations that mirror the girl’s own shifting emotions and her awakening consciousness. Perhaps, like many teenagers caught between fantasy and reality, she is drawn not just to the Gandharvan himself, but to the very idea of him, the mystery he embodies, to the myth he represents.

A more restrained and grounded portrayal of divine romance unfolds in Ranjith’s Nandanam (2002) , where the supernatural serves as a benevolent presence guiding the course of an earthly love story. Here, divine intervention plays the role of a subtle matchmaker, orchestrating the union between Balamani (Navya Nair), a humble domestic help, and Manu ( Prithviraj ), the affluent young heir to the household she serves. Balamani is portrayed with remarkable tenderness and dignity. An orphan by circumstance, she has found a place in the large ancestral bungalow, working diligently as the primary caretaker of the household’s elderly matriarch. Despite being assisted by three older women, Balamani shoulders most of the responsibilities. Her character is defined by sincerity, devotion, and an innate spiritual connection with Lord Krishna, whom she worships with childlike affection and unshakeable faith.

When love begins to bloom between Balamani and Manu, it does so without drama or excess. Unlike the romantic tropes of class conflict or seductive transgression that often mark such pairings in Malayalam cinema, their relationship is treated with sensitivity and realism. Balamani, acutely aware of the social and economic chasm between them, harbours no grand illusions. Her love is cautious, deeply felt, but rooted in reality. Manu, for his part, is gentle and respectful, drawn not just to her charm but to her integrity and grace. The film does not loudly proclaim its miracles; instead, it weaves a thread of magic through everyday moments.

When fantasy heals

For Janaki (Jomol) in Hariharan’s Ennu Swantham Janakikutty (1998), it is her inner turmoil, born of familial indifference, a lack of companionship, and the pangs of unrequited love that manifests in the form of vivid hallucinations centred around a Yakshi, a mythical female spirit from Malayalam folklore. Unlike the traditionally fearsome depiction of Yakshis as vengeful seductresses, the one Janaki envisions becomes her protector and confidante. Through this mystical friendship, Janaki is granted a reprieve from the oppressive conventions and suffocating expectations that surround her. The light-eyed Yakshi (Chanchal) becomes an extension of Janaki’s unspoken rage, desires and longing for empowerment, offering her a fantasy space where she is no longer powerless or voiceless. But once her heart is mended, the Yakshi departs, serving as a poignant reminder of the fragility of adolescence and the compromises that come with growing up. MT's recurring use of this whimsical crossover – where reality blurs with fantasy – speaks to the fragility and creativity of the teenage experience.

In Basil Joseph ’s Minnal Murali (2021) , supernatural elements are introduced with casual nonchalance, underscoring the film's understated approach to fantasy. The protagonist, Jason, is a small-town tailor with big-city dreams. He is flawed, self-centred, and naïvely optimistic about life, clinging to a fantasy of settling in the US. When one fateful Christmas night, lightning strikes him, Jason ( Tovino Thomas ) has no clue that this moment would transform his life forever. The narrative following Jason’s accidental empowerment retains his core innocence, vulnerability and bewilderment. Soon, he realises he can run at lightning speed, hear distant sounds, fly, walk through walls, and even prevent household mishaps with a flick of the wrist. The progression is organic and believable, grounding his superhero origin in a deep human arc. But no superhero tale is complete without a worthy adversary, and here, Basil Joseph crafts one of the most compelling antagonists in recent Indian cinema.

During the same celestial event, lightning also strikes Shibu (Guru Somasundaram) — a lonely, socially ridiculed tea shop worker. Like Jason, he is an underdog. But unlike Jason, Shibu’s motivations are steeped in pain and heartbreak. When Shibu begins impersonating Minnal Murali to exact revenge and reclaim his lost love, Jason finds himself battling not just a rival but also the growing public distrust that comes with being falsely implicated. Shibu is not a one-dimensional villain. He is a tragic figure — damaged by life, neglected by society, and pushed over the edge by unrequited love. His descent into darkness is gradual and layered. By choosing two socially invisible men — one a tailor, the other a tea shop helper — as vessels for cosmic power, Basil Joseph redefines what it means to be a hero or a villain.

Watch some of these unmissable Basil Joseph performances on OTTplay Premium.

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