In a world where human beings thrived like any other mammals, sans languages and every other paraphernalia, would they still qualify as apex predators? When danger appears, our first instinct is to think. A lone man, suddenly confronted by a tiger, would probably scramble up the nearest tall tree. His brain would tick over time for a way to escape. A rock, a branch, or anything that might distract the big cat would become part of his strategy.
For the young Peeyoos (Sandeep Pradeep) in Dinjith Ayyathan’s Eko, things aren’t so simple. At one point in the film, the lad finds himself stranded atop a tree for a grueling couple of days. And the threat? Not a mythical beast, but the most familiar animal from human settlements: dogs. Packs of them, taking turns to watch his moves, far more terrifying than any tiger he could have imagined. What’s the use of human intellect here? How does he climb down?
If you are a passive animal lover who enjoys petting strays on roadsides and in parks, Eko might just give you a mini nightmare. But if you grew up with pets at home, knowing their loyalty and quirks, you will watch the film’s heavy canine presence with a glint in your eyes. In Ayyathan’s film, set presumably in the 80s or the early 90s, these animals guard the hilltop home and the surrounding estate where Mlaathi Chedathi (Biana Momin) lives. She is the elderly wife of Kuriachan, a fugitive and a famed breeder.
Where is Kuriachan? Everyone in Eko wants to know, including his Malaysia-born wife. While the house runs on its own, Mlaathi Chedathi’s advancing age and the estate’s vast worth push her practical, estranged sons to appoint a caretaker. One of the best things Ayyathan does is resist over-explaining relationships. What was this family like in their younger days? What made the woman strip away every ounce of motherly warmth? What was Kuriachan fleeing from? Who was he? Where did he appear from?
Eko is a treat, not just for dog lovers but also for those with a taste for period detailing, greenery, and immersive natural soundscapes. There’s a chapter briefly set in wartime Malaysia. Kuriachan and his friend Mohan Pothan, driven by their passion for dogs, end up in the Southeast Asian country. There, they meet Yosiah, Soyi, and a battalion of fiercely trained guardians protecting their home. In a mystifying arc that later adds complex emotional layers, the characters interact, and a betrayal occurs, opening the film to a wildly imaginative story.
In a film so dependent on atmospherics, it is a major advantage that writer Bahul Ramesh also serves as the DOP. The storyboard seems to leap straight from the creator’s mind to the lens, resulting in each frame being fine-tuned to absolute precision. There is also a notable lack of grandeur, despite the setting naturally offering it. Peeyoos, for instance, is introduced in the most ordinary of ways, with no close-up or slow-motion, just the character seated in the back of a jeep.
Eko leans heavily on flashbacks, parallel narratives, and tightly controlled pacing, making the precision of editor Sooraj E. S’s cuts crucial. The film also challenges every cinema hall: upgrade your acoustics. You cannot truly appreciate Mujeeb Majeed’s hypnotic score or Vishnu Govind’s sound design on mediocre speakers. Tune your ears to the foley work by Balasubramaniam and M. Karthikeyan, and you will understand why this soundscape is essential.
Bahul Ramesh’s screenplay answers very few questions upfront. You’ll need to do some mental math to figure out several of its twists, while others you’re expected to guess — almost like a murder mystery board game where you jot notes alongside.
Peeyoos’ character is nearly as eerie as Kuriachan’s, who is undoubtedly the film’s fulcrum. The writer reveals only fragments about his past and possible vendetta against the missing man. When the film opens, we glimpse him as a Playboy-reading, sexually charged youngster who also contributes anonymously to Malayalam soft-porn literature. The film trusts the viewer to pick up these details without elaboration.
The director holds shots a few seconds longer to heighten tension — a simple move, but a hallmark of someone skilled in the genre. On more than one occasion, Peeyoos checks on Mlaathi Chedathi only to find she is safe. In this attention to detail, Eko becomes a masterclass in screenwriting, particularly in how it draws parallels between the Malaysia and India chapters, closing arcs in deliberate, calculated ways.
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At the center of Eko is Sandeep Pradeep, in a physically demanding role that also requires a wide range of emotions. Is Peeyoos not what he seems? Or is he a simpleton trapped by others who harbour deep vengeance toward Kuriachan? Either way, the actor is so convincing that it is impossible to imagine him as an urban youngster in modern-day Kerala.
Stealing the spotlight is Saurabh Sachdeva as Kuriachan. Whoever cast him deserves a bow, because the wicked energy and sinister glances he brings are unmatched. Three decades ago, we would have placed our bets on Vijayaraghavan or Shammi Thilakan, perhaps, but no known actor on this date. Biana Momin (voice dubbed by KPAC Leela) makes a stunning screen debut. The character is bizarre enough to earn a place in Malayalam cinema’s hall of unforgettable personalities, and the Meghalayan actress brings a vicious edge to it.
Eko has a mesmerizing way of showcasing dogs, its primary supporting cast. Ayyathan’s portrayal of their loyalty and aggression is never broad-stroked as it raises a larger existential question: can man’s best friend also turn out to be his worst enemy? In fact, it nearly made me feel a bit sorry for the monkeys of Kishkindha Kaandam, who never received the kind of spotlight that the dogs command here. Narain, as the mysterious investigator and quasi-narrator, is excellent. So is Vineeth, a far cry from his dancing, romantic avatar of yesteryears. Ashokan, Ng Hung Shen, Sim Zhi Fei, Renjit Shekar, Binu Pappu, and Saheer Mohammed are all pitch-perfect in their roles.
For contemporary Indian cinema, Dinjith Ayyathan’s mystery thriller doesn’t miss a beat. Technically accomplished and wildly immersive on paper, Eko keeps you on tenterhooks. By avoiding gimmicks and shortcuts to connect the dots, the film builds a story so universal that it might as well take place in Greeland or Mauritania, if not India. The times we live in are controversial, as animals have their habitats destroyed or, worse, are physically displaced from human settlements. This troubling situation alone makes the film’s unusual but not entirely implausible human-animal relationship worth exploring.
Rating: ★★★★ 1/2
