The opening sequence of first-time director Madhu C. Narayanan’s Kumbalangi Nights takes us to a boys’ hostel. A group of teenagers play football, followed by a plan to explore Kochi. One suggests visiting Franky’s (Mathew Thomas) home on the city’s outskirts before heading to Lulu Mall. It sounds exciting, but Franky declines, citing chickenpox at home. His friends aren’t fazed, but Franky is. He wants to take them home someday, but it isn’t a typical home.
Through its opening credits, Kumbalangi Nights takes us through this dysfunctional household. Syam Pushkaran’s screenplay doesn’t reveal its complexities upfront. Instead, it peels back layers with clarity.
Franky lives with his elder brothers: Saji (Soubin Shahir), Bobby (Shane Nigam), and Boney (Sreenath Bhasi). Saji and Bobby spend their time idly, bickering constantly. Boney, though speech-impaired, commands a quiet authority in the household, and he instinctively protects Franky. Meanwhile, Bobby falls in love with Babymol (Anna Ben), a Hindu homestay operator. Tension escalates with the entry of Shammi (Fahadh Faasil), her toxic brother-in-law.
In his introduction, Shammi narcissistically admires himself in the mirror, exclaiming, “Raymond. The Complete Man.” An acquaintance who stops by avoids meeting him. He interacts with the women in the house, and we sense the underlying unease. In another instance, local kids hesitate to retrieve their football from Shammi’s yard. Still, Shammi isn’t a typical villain. He’s quirky, awkwardly comedic, and unnerving without menace.
Pushkaran’s screenplay, centred on the brothers, is a coming-of-age tale. They live together without knowing why. “This is the worst family in the panchayat,” Franky declares. He considers the unit a family. Soon, our brief visit to their evangelist mother offers insight into their trauma. A heartbreaking midpoint twist affects Saji deeply, prompting genuine self-reflection in a scene with a therapist.
Among the brothers, Bobby’s arc is the most developed. A directionless youth, he finds solace in Babymol’s warmth. Their romance blossoms across secret meetings on a secluded island. Baby becomes the emotional anchor Bobby didn’t know he needed. Meanwhile, Saji’s moment of catharsis brings a rush of empathy. He finds someone to share his long-nurtured sorrow with. He weeps his heart out.
Kumbalangi Nights is rich in layered characters. Shammi’s wife Simi (Grace Antony) represents women conditioned by patriarchal norms. She is obedient, yet not unwilling to speak up when pushed. One standout scene of confrontation with her husband lands with thunderous impact. Young Franky embodies hope, dreaming of oneness in their broken home near the theetaparambu (literally “shit-yard,” metaphorically their foul life). His innocent pride as he serves tea to a guest, asking, “What is the purpose of your visit?” is endearing.
The film is also about healing through acceptance. Over time, they form a patchwork family. It has brothers, lovers, and strangers from different backgrounds, unified against all odds. In a pivotal moment, Bobby tells a Tamil woman given shelter by Saji, “There can’t be a better place for you. By you, I mean chechi (elder sister).” It’s sarcastic yet sincere, and sets the tone to Bobby’s growth.
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Shammi’s character is cleverly drawn, too. A product of patriarchal expectations, he assumes control because society allows him. One chilling dinner-table scene has him summoning his wife and her sister, seating himself where a photo of his late father-in-law looms behind him. It becomes an image of inherited male dominance. The climactic stretch is shocking. When Shammi declares, “Shammi heroyada” (Shammi is the hero), we yearn for a deeper dive into this dark, enigmatic figure.
Performances are stellar to the extent that you don’t see actors in the characters. Soubin Shahir is phenomenal as Saji. We laugh, cry, and feel with the distraught and defeated man. Fahadh Faasil balances threat with an awkward charm only he could exude. Shane Nigam brings gentle intensity, and Anna Ben’s natural presence and twinkling eyes light up the frames. Dileesh Pothan is excellent in a cameo. The only slight misstep is Boney’s characterization, which occasionally feels too polished for the rustic setting, but even Sreenath Bhasi contributes well in key scenes.
Shyju Khalid’s cinematography lends the right atmosphere to the slowly brewing family drama. The camera caresses moods and moments. From cactus plants, a lone football, to Boney’s Bluetooth speaker – all quietly speak. Unlike many recent Malayalam films, Kumbalangi Nights resists too many drone shots. The film chooses intimacy over grandeur. This is a particularly wise decision considering how its backdrop offers immense photographic possibilities.
Jotish Shankar’s production design crafts striking contrasts: the frightening calm of Shammi’s house versus the mad disarray of Saji’s. Editor Saiju Sreedharan frames make love to characters (often Shammi) with intense close-ups. The chemistry between the original score (Sushin Shyam) and sound design (Tapas Nayak and Jayadevan Chakkadath) is second only to what’s between the actors. One evocative moment sees Boney’s girlfriend playing a song on Bluetooth. There is a certain warmth that this seemingly simple scene generates, and it’s all the betterer when it’s captured from a distance, underlining the film’s quiet power.
Ultimately, Madhu C. Narayanan’s film is a beautiful human story of broken people discovering the wholeness of life. Like Sudani from Nigeria, it’s about long-overdue happiness. The feel-good factor is never manufactured. When the film comes up with a resolution, we cry. Not because it’s sad, but because it’s right.
Kumbalangi Nights is wonderfully aware of its world, and our world. This way, it ends up among the finest Indian films made in modern times, and is sure to send Malayalam cinema in a new direction.
Rating: ★★★★★
Kumbalangi Nights is now streaming on Amazon Prime.
