On August 28, director Dominic Arun had already left for Dubai when word began to spread about his second feature, Lokah Chapter 1: Chandra. The film, headlined by Kalyani Priyadarshan, slipped quietly into theatres worldwide that morning, jostling for Onam footfalls against heavyweight releases starring Mohanlal and Fahadh Faasil. When the crew gathered in Dubai to greet audiences, they were stunned by the roaring reception, enough to move producer Dulquer Salmaan to blurt out in wonder: “What is happening!”
“No one had an inkling the film would shoot through the roof. Not us, not even our friends who had seen the low-key preview,” Arun recalls. Within two weeks, Lokah was inching towards the ₹200-crore mark globally, with unprecedentedly strong reports from regions such as the U.K. “The collection numbers are incredible,” says Anil Thomas, president of the Kerala Film Chamber of Commerce. “Never in recent times have I seen so many late-night show add-ons for a movie. We think it will soon surpass Thudarum [the 2025 revenge drama], which was an outstanding industrial hit.”
Kalyani Priyadarshan (left) and Santhy Balachandran
“Having worked across different languages, I feel each industry has its own strengths, but Malayalam sets have a warmth and a sense of family between the cast and crew.”Kalyani PriyadarshanActor
Malayalam cinema has pulled off similar surprises before. Over the past decade, films such as Premam (2015), Drishyam (2013), Kumbalangi Nights (2019), and more recently The Great Indian Kitchen (2021) and Manjummel Boys (2024) have redrawn the industry’s creative and commercial horizons. But Lokah, a rare female-superhero fantasy thriller, is not only attracting a pan-Indian audience but also unsettling assumptions about what regional cinema can be. Made on a ₹30-crore budget, it arrived in the shadow of two of the year’s most-hyped releases: Coolie, Lokesh Kanagaraj’s Tamil spectacle with Rajinikanth, and Bollywood’s War 2, both of which came with massive budgets (₹350 crore and ₹400 crore, respectively), publicity machines, and a cavalcade of pan-Indian male superstars, and yet fell flat with critics and the audience.
Santhy Balachandran with actor Sandy on the set of Lokah
Lokah, by contrast, placed its bet on its vision built steadily from the ground up, backed by the collaborative labour that has carried Malayalam cinema through cycles of boom and bust. It departs from the realistic, quotidian characters, situations, and formal styles that have long defined Malayalam cinema, and instead stakes its claim in a new wave of “genre cinema”. These films, such as Gaganachari (2024), Bramayugam (2024), and the comic-book visions of filmmaker-cinematographer Krishnand, click neatly into one another, using the conventions of science fiction, fantasy, and horror while staying rooted in Malayali landscapes and concerns. Made by crews who grew up on torrents of global cinephilia, these films leverage the cutting-edge machinery of digital filmmaking.
“We started off thinking we were making an experimental film, and slowly, the budget swelled. We were aware of the risks involved, so we prepared thoroughly, without leaving space for confusion during the shoot.”Santhy BalachandranCo-writer of ‘Lokah’
Santhy Balachandran with Tovino Thomas (centre) and director Dominic Arun
‘We thrive despite the limitations’
Lokah draws its characters from Aithihyamala, a collection of ancient Kerala fables, and relocates them to the neon nights of Bengaluru, a city that has long reshaped the lives and aspirations of migrating Malayali youth. “We started off thinking we were making an experimental film, and slowly, the budget swelled,” recalls Santhy Balachandran, actor and the film’s co-writer and dramaturgist. “We were aware of the risks involved, so we prepared thoroughly, without leaving space for confusion during the shoot.”
While Balachandran perfected the overarching narrative that upends a patriarchal legend and recasts it as the story of a female superhero who does not want to be saved, Arun threaded humour and pop-cultural references into the screenplay. “We had a great collaborative equation,” she says.
(L-R) Dominic Arun, Santhy Balachandran, and Nimish Ravi
The success of Lokah has reignited a familiar question, posed with excitement, curiosity, and disbelief: how does Malayalam cinema do what it does, within tight budgets? Beyond the socio-political conditions of Kerala — its film society movement, political consciousness instilled by leftist struggles, the waves of migration that widened its horizons and gave its people early access to global media, and its secular demographic fabric — lies a crucial structural factor: its modest market size. “If the biggest Tamil blockbuster grosses ₹800 crore, our films rarely cross ₹250 crore. Film production here is a highly risky business,” remarks screenwriter and producer Syam Pushkaran, whose Bhavana Studios bankrolled last year’s runaway rom-com hit Premalu. “There is no magic happening here. We thrive despite the limitations,” he says.
“If the biggest Tamil blockbuster grosses ₹800 crore, our films rarely cross ₹250 crore. Film production here is a highly risky business. There is no magic happening here. We thrive despite the limitations.”Syam PushkaranScreenwriter and producer
The industry, mindful of its challenges, operates like a village where cooperative labour becomes essential for sustenance. This indie spirit proved invaluable during the pandemic years, when crews continued to work under severe restrictions and yet produced acclaimed works such as Joji (the 2021 crime drama). Constraints shaped their working ethos, says Pushkaran. “Our filmmakers had to learn to work fast and smart, out of necessity. And we have always had brilliant technicians, from Santosh Sivan to Nimish Ravi, who help create a high-quality look and feel on small budgets,” he says. Ravi puts it more bluntly, “We work harder, longer. Sometimes, we work through the night without proper sleep. I wouldn’t say it is healthy.”
Actor-producer Tovino Thomas, who appears in a stunning cameo in Lokah, reflects on his own experience of working in (and as) Minnal Murali (2021), Malayalam cinema’s first full-fledged superhero film, which was made on a budget of approximately ₹18 crore. “Basil Joseph [filmmaker] relied on innovative, practical effects instead of VFX in many portions of Minnal Murali. The efforts of the art direction team gave the film a unique texture, and I believe this approach saved us money and time at that time. CGI can be expensive and time-consuming,” he says, adding that severe constraints and restrictions made them more creative. For instance, he shares: “Malayalam cinema produced My Dear Kuttichathan (1984), India’s first 3-D feature film, when the rest of the country couldn’t even think of such a technical experimentation.”
Tovino Thomas
“With this success, suddenly, a universe has opened. We now know that the audience isn’t averse to genre experimentation.”Tovino ThomasActor
The power of cooperative labour
“Having worked across different languages, I feel each industry has its own strengths, but Malayalam sets have a warmth and a sense of family between the cast and crew,” says Kalyani Priyadarshan. “Historically, we have never had the luxury of endless resources. Instead of holding us back, the restrictions made us sharper and more thoughtful in how we plan and execute things, because we can’t simply solve problems later by spending more.”
Her words underline the years the Lokah crew invested in pre-production. Cinematographer Ravi, Arun’s long-time collaborator, was part of the film from its inception. “By the time filming began, we had almost everything ready in our hands,” he says. Arun had mapped out shot divisions during the writing phase, and once the script was locked, he and Ravi, with the help of Ajmal Haneef, an AI visualiser, worked on a meticulous lookbook and miniatures. This became the team’s bible, drawing everyone into Lokah’s kinetic, sweeping world.
Shooting for Lokah
Three Kerala-based studios executed the film’s seamless visual effects work. “Productions often make the mistake of waiting until the last minute to work on the VFX. This time, we brought in the VFX team right from the shoot. Aneesh Kutty, our supervisor, along with his team, worked alongside us. We gave them time, and they delivered,” says Ravi.
The production was smartly executed. During the unbroken 94-day schedule, the crew pulled through gruelling night shoots in unison. Priyadarshan arrived on the sets well-trained for action sequences. A housing colony was converted into the streets of Bengaluru, while the interiors of Chandra’s and Sunny’s apartments were shot in Kochi. And Dulquer’s role as a producer proved pivotal. “He knew this was not going to be a low-cost film. In fact, he understood the necessity of investing more money in certain areas, and suggested it himself,” says Arun. Dulquer’s association not only elevated the film, bringing high-profile cameos, but also ensured traction in Tamil and Telugu-speaking regions where his name commands a significant fan following.
For Tovino Thomas, Lokah’s success feels personal. “With this success, suddenly, a universe has opened. We now know that the audience isn’t averse to genre experimentation.” He describes his cameo and participation in promotional events as a gesture of solidarity. “They are all my friends, whose lives and careers I have closely seen… When friends are trying to expand the borders of our cinema, you have to show up.”
The writer is a film critic and independent researcher.
