For nearly three decades, Malayalam cinema’s star system revolved around two towering figures: Mammootty and Mohanlal. As they entered superstardom in the late ’80s, they came to define the industry’s commercial imagination. But by the early 2000s, a quiet shift was underway. Kerala’s younger audiences, the demographic that drives theatrical footfalls, were increasingly looking for protagonists who reflected their own generation.
Actors such as Dileep and Prithviraj Sukumaran filled that space to an extent through family entertainers and dramas. Yet there remained a shortage of unabashedly commercial films that could accommodate youthful heroes with larger-than-life appeal.
As film critic, filmmaker and historian C.S. Venkiteswaran observed in an interview with Film Companion, “There was a need for stars who could convincingly do romance, play the college student, pull off action scenes and, just as importantly, dance well to hit numbers. Theatres needed to feel like a celebration.”
Vacuum Filled
Into that vacuum stepped stars from neighbouring industries. Tamil superstar Vijay and Telugu icon Allu Arjun found an enthusiastic audience in Kerala with their distinct brands of mass entertainers, while their chart-topping dance numbers became cultural phenomena across the state. Vijay continued to dominate the Kerala market until Jana Nayagan, billed as his final film, while Allu Arjun, whose films regularly released in dubbed Malayalam versions, was affectionately rechristened “Mallu Arjun” by fans.
Two decades later, that vacuum has all but disappeared. If anything, Malayalam cinema now faces the opposite problem: an abundance of stars catering to virtually every genre, budget and demographic.
Nothing illustrates that change better than the 2026 Onam release window.
August opened with Thudakkam, the launch vehicle for Mohanlal’s daughter Vismaya, directed by Jude Anthany Joseph, whose 2018 became one of Malayalam cinema’s biggest-ever blockbusters. Then the Onam release, with Prithviraj’s Khalifa, followed a day later by Nivin Pauly and Mamitha Baiju’s family comedy Bethlehem Kudumba Unit.
As exhibitors grappled with allocating screens, the season also marked a symbolic departure from the norm: for the first time in years, neither Mammootty nor Mohanlal headlined the festive slate.
Crowded Sky
“They will continue to remain legends, but the industry isn’t solely dependent on them today,” says G. Dhananjayan, industry tracker, producer and film distributor. “Today, there’s a star capable of delivering collections of ₹50 crore or more in every tier of Malayalam cinema. Decades ago, it would have been impossible to imagine a female-led action film like Lokah Chapter One: Chandra outperforming Mohanlal’s Hridayapoorvam during Onam and then going on to become an industry hit.”
The numbers reflect that shift. As many as 17 Malayalam actors now have films that have grossed ₹50 crore or more, while 10 of them have multiple ₹100-crore grossers to their credit — an unprecedented feat for an industry of its size.
“The timeline has changed too,” Dhananjayan says. “Earlier, an actor might have taken 10 years to establish themselves as a viable commercial force. Today, it can happen in five years and with just two or three films. It’s healthy for the industry because it creates more options for exhibitors and can guarantee decent openings across the calendar, provided these actors continue to release at least one or two films a year.”
Content Kings
Perhaps the most telling example of Malayalam cinema’s evolving star system is Kunchacko Boban, who’s films have repeatedly crossed the ₹50-crore mark without relying on the kind of larger-than-life roles traditionally associated with commercial stardom.
Boban’s Officer On Duty, grossed ₹55 crore where he played a police officer battling PTSD while pursuing a gang of serial killers. The film’s appeal lay less in heroic spectacle than in the emotional interiority of a middle-aged man confronting personal trauma. This year’s Unmadham follows a similarly rooted path, with Boban starring as a police constable diagnosed with schizophrenia who begins experiencing disturbing visions.
“What’s different about the Malayalam industry is that films built around subjects like these can still become major commercial successes,” says editor and director Kiran Das. “The fact that an actor like Kunchacko Boban exists allows filmmakers to tell intense stories without feeling the need to dilute them.”
Occupying a unique space between the generation of Mammootty and Mohanlal and younger stars such as Prithviraj and Dulquer Salmaan, Boban has fashioned a brand of stardom rooted not in invincibility but in emotional credibility. His success suggests that, in Malayalam cinema, audiences are often willing to embrace stars whose appeal lies as much in vulnerability as in charisma.
That same principle extends beyond actors. Film critic and YouTuber Aswin Bharadwaj argues that stardom in Kerala has always been broader than simply box-office pull.
He points to the recent success of Balan: The Boy, which grossed more than ₹35 crore despite marketing that barely foregrounded Tovino Thomas’s presence.
“The focus was entirely on the film itself and on the fact that it was directed by Chidambaram, coming off the success of Manjummel Boys,” Bharadwaj says. “Stardom here is still content-driven. In another industry, a director like Chidambaram may have moved straight to making a vehicle for a major superstar. Instead, he made a film with newcomers and still found success. That’s a form of stardom too.”
The same argument is echoed by Suresh Shenoy, owner of a Kerala-based theatre chain. Speaking in a recent interview with Cue Studio, he cited Lokah and Vaazha 2 — two of the state’s biggest recent blockbusters — as examples of films that transcended conventional star power.
“Lokah blended action, mythology and comedy, and still emerged a blockbuster despite releasing alongside a Mohanlal film,” Shenoy said. “Vaazha 2 wasn’t necessarily telling an entirely new story, but everything — from the casting to the storytelling — clicked with audiences. It became a success well beyond anyone’s expectations.”
In terms of return on investment, Vaazha 2 is said to have earned nearly 25 times its production budget.
Bharadwaj points to another example. Santhosh Trophy was originally planned with Prithviraj Sukumaran in the lead before scheduling issues forced him to exit. Director Vipin Das instead cast relative newcomer Jomon Jyothir.
“Naturally, Jomon doesn’t bring the same star power as Prithviraj, and the budget may have had to change,” Bharadwaj says. “But because Vipin Das wrote and produced Vaazha 2, the project hasn’t really lost its sheen. In Malayalam, stardom is often relative to the project itself.”
Star Test
Yet the proliferation of bankable actors has also complicated the very definition of superstardom.
Industry tracker and historian Sreedhar Pillai argues that while Malayalam cinema today has more commercially viable stars than at any point in its history, only one or two actors can still guarantee the kind of massive opening once routinely associated with superstars Mammootty and Mohanlal.
“In many cases, a hero with a ₹100-crore hit follows it up with a film that doesn’t even cross ₹10 crore,” he says. “It’s a strange phenomenon where almost every film has to succeed entirely on its own merit. A star’s popularity makes little difference if it isn’t matched by strong content.”
For Pillai, that unpredictability reflects the unique expectations of Kerala audiences. While they readily embrace spectacle from elsewhere, they continue to demand something more grounded from Malayalam cinema itself.
“For larger-than-life spectacles, audiences here still look outside Malayalam cinema,” he says, pointing to the performance of Spider-Man: Brand New Day. “The film collected more from theatres in Kochi alone than Prithviraj’s I, Nobody earned worldwide. Kerala audiences watch Tamil and Telugu cinema to satisfy their appetite for commercial spectacle. But when they watch Malayalam films, they want them to feel rooted.”
The result is a star system unlike any other in India. Commercial success is spread across a wider pool of actors than ever before, but sustained star power remains unusually fragile. A blockbuster no longer guarantees that an actor can carry their next film to similar heights.
Beyond Legends
Dhananjayan believes that distinction is crucial. “In Malayalam, even relative newcomers can deliver an industry hit with their very first film, and that’s a reflection of both the quality of the content and the openness of the audience,” he says. “But we shouldn’t mistake that for superstardom. These are actors who have delivered superhits; they aren’t necessarily superstars in the true sense of the word.”
He points to the generation of stars that emerged in the ’80s and ’90s, when they built their stature over years rather than a handful of successful releases.
“Superstars earned that position after delivering hit after hit for more than a decade,” he says. “At every stage, they built a place in people’s hearts, which meant they could survive multiple failures without losing their value. Today, stardom can come much more quickly — but it can disappear just as fast. Social media has accelerated both the rise and the fall.”
Perhaps that is what makes Malayalam cinema’s current moment so fascinating. The industry no longer depends on two towering figures to sustain its box office. Instead, it has cultivated an unusually diverse constellation of actors capable of headlining films across genres, budgets and generations. Yet if the old duopoly has finally given way to abundance, the definition of a superstar remains as elusive as ever — earned not simply through openings or box office milestones, but one film at a time.