‘Ajayante Randam Moshanam’ Review: A Storybook Adventure That Stops Short of Amazing

Director: Jithin Lal
Writer: Sujith Nambiar
Cast: Tovino Thomas, Krithi Shetty, Aishwarya Rajesh, Surabhi Lakshmi, Basil Joseph
Language: Malayalam

For a film built around its otherworldly visuals, the writing decisions in Jithin Lal’s Ajayante Randam Moshanam (ARM) have left me with wonder. Take, for instance, a question posed by a little girl at the start of the movie. As she listens to her grandmother narrate the valorous tale of Kunji Kelu (Tovino Thomas) and the magical lamp he brought to his village, the girl asks what feels like a strange question. “Was Kunji Kelu’s wife pregnant when she was chased out of our village?” she asks, much to her grandmother’s annoyance. For a while, one wonders why she asks this. But then, when it’s worked out, one realises how this single question connects three timelines, three characters and one major event. It reveals the intricacies of Sujith Nambiar’s writing and the thought that has gone into creating an original work of folklore.

It’s the same when you think about why the makers chose such a title, which roughly translates to “Ajayan’s second heist”, because going in, you expect the plot to revolve around Ajayan (again, Tovino) and his second heist. But the title feels more like an inside joke between the writer and the viewer when you see what Nambiar was attempting with it.

Even the idea of starting the movie with this grandma tale sets the tone for a world that allows for many magical realities. Wounds heal with the power of this magical lamp, just the way a thief, like the menacing Maniyan (Tovino, again), can shuffle between bad guys at lightning speed. We do not worry about rationale because we’re more than happy to buy into the film’s fantastical logic, populated with people we soon learn to love. But at the core of a typical hero’s journey is a story of family honour, and the impossibility of escaping prejudice when your grandfather is known to be a thief.

That’s the one aspect of the film that plants it in reality, giving these characters a sense of depth and urgency. In Haripuram, where much of the story is set, we’re told that there’s a thief on the loose. Household goods go missing daily, but the local police end up at Ajayan’s in search of the thief, only because of their family’s reputation. Ajayan is smart and educated (he’s the only person with a license to operate a ham radio), and is merely days away from getting a respectable government job. But he fears this constant harassment will affect his prospects when the same officers will have to vouch for his conduct. There’s also his caste location that’s brought up, with people from the dominant caste dismissing his achievements as benefits of a flawed reservation system.

It’s a solid idea to address this angle because it shows how certain aspects of society remain the same through generations. It was rampant in Kunji Kelu’s time, and was just as common during Maniyan’s. The villains keep changing, but they pass on the same prejudices from one generation to the next. This raises the stakes for Ajayan, as he now has a shot at changing the mindset of his people. On a deeper level, the magical powers of the lamp are not meant to just remove physical wounds; these wounds are metaphorical, too.

However, the social commentary never really takes away from mythmaking. We get thrilling scenes from a treasure hunt when we see Maniyan steal the lamp from a heavily-guarded vault within the deep recesses of a palace. An excellent stretch here involves Maniyan solving a complex puzzle, as a gush of water swallows him. This is also an important detail one has to hold on to, because we get an echo of this scene later when it’s Ajayan’s turn to find the lamp.

All of these ideas coalesce to create a convincing world made even better, thanks to cinematographer Jomon T. John’s visuals. Each timeline is presented with a distinct look that works even without the use of onscreen titles to explain the period. With its non-linear screenplay, it’s this visual aspect that makes transitions smooth, without the audience having to think twice about which timeline they are in.

Yet, for all the minute detailing in the writing and the making, one wonders why the makers decided to take detours when the film, at its core, is already tight and suspenseful. When the audience is first introduced to Ajayan, they are fed with much information about his personality. This includes the fact that he teaches children, that he’s a bit of a tech wizard, and that he’s a kind of an expert at Kalaripayattu. However, in the second half, the film abruptly moves into the zone of an elaborate 15-minute-long Kalaripayattu battle one was just not prepared for.

The fight itself is entertaining with some flashy camerawork, but it takes place at such an important juncture that the audience is made to forget the significance of all that’s at stake for Ajayan. It feels like an unnecessary addition to a character that was working perfectly even without his super strength. The same can be said about the film’s main villain, played by Harish Uthaman, who doesn’t get to do much beyond showing up at critical plot points, dressed in a ‘90s’ swagger, only to explain the movie to the audience. 

But with Dhibu Ninan Thomas’s thumping score plastering over these misses and with Tovino excelling as all three characters, ARM is that rare fantasy in Malayalam that never feels like a compromise. At its peak, the film is like a rediscovery of an old copy of Amar Chitra Katha, which one never got around to reading as a child.