“For whom do rituals exist? For human beings or for gods?”
Paithalattam, written and directed by Vibin N. Velayudhan, points its finger towards questions that unsettle the conscience of society. The film has been produced by Sreejith Lal Piravom and Adv. M. Nawaz under the banners of S.L. Media and Aishwarya Movie Makers.
If a film disturbs its audience, it is because it exposes some deep-rooted flaws within society. If Paithalattam leaves you shaken, it is because our minds are reluctant to confront the cruelty and helplessness hidden behind many rituals that we have carried as sacred for generations.
From prehistoric times, the ruling classes and social elites have employed a strategy to suppress resistance and dissent that could arise against them: they turn people into gods. Instead of questioning those in power, the very person who might raise questions is elevated into a deity for a single day. Once this is celebrated under the guise of ritual, no voice of protest can emerge from that space thereafter. When faith becomes an ally, ordinary people become afraid even to look in that direction. The film accurately identifies this social reality.
When a performer dons the costume of the theechamundi and dances as Ottatheyyam, he may indeed become a god in the eyes of devotees. Yet, inside that divine costume is a flesh-and-blood human being. When that body is scorched by fire and writhes in pain, the man is compelled to decide that he will not pass on this hellish suffering to the next generation. However, the intoxication of devotion, the social honour and prestige bestowed upon him, and the temporary elevation to godhood eventually pull him away from that decision. As family and community participate in this collective religious frenzy, the conflicts within the household become evident between the lines.
A mother who refuses to push her child into the fire in the name of ritual represents the struggle between science and faith. Though the mother and son attempt to resist these rituals by embracing scientific reasoning instead of blind devotion, their efforts prove futile. Even when scientific awareness is defeated by the intensity of belief, the mother continues to resist.
In the film’s climax, the child's father cries out in anguish:
“Don't make him a god… don't make him a god…”
This heart-wrenching cry is where the film delivers its true essence to the audience. It is not merely an outburst; rather, it is the collective lament of a people who have been exploited for centuries in the name of rituals.
The film portrays a talented child who learns to play the chenda beautifully and wins first prize at his school science exhibition by scientifically demonstrating a method to extinguish the flames from the body of a Theyyam performer. To see this gifted child suddenly and “unavoidably” pushed into becoming the divine figure of Balachamundi is profoundly disturbing.
The subject matter handled by the film is extremely relevant. However, had it explored more deeply the idea of this “one-day deification” as a political weapon used to suppress the protests and rights of ordinary people, Paithalattam could have risen to an even greater level.
The film's greatest strength lies in the brilliant performances of its actors. Vedamithra Raman, who plays Balachamundi, leaves the audience spellbound. The innate sense of rhythm that blossoms in those tiny fingers while beating the stone is simply extraordinary. Dhanya Ananya beautifully brings to the screen the anxieties and struggles of a mother, while Mithun Champu's portrayal of Theechamundi successfully preserves the delicate bridge between divinity and humanity without losing its wild essence.
Apart from them, Cherthala Jayan, Appunni Sasi, Sunil Sukhada, and Arun Kumar Pavumba also deliver impressive performances.
The technical aspects of the film are equally praiseworthy. Nidhin Chembakassery's cinematography and Vinayan's editing play a significant role in sustaining the film's mood. The art direction by Sreekumar Malayattoor, the colouring by Liju Prabhakar, the make-up by Bijoy Kollam, and the costumes designed by Neethu Velayudhan together create a distinctive visual beauty for the film. The still photography was handled by Bibin Varnam.
The songs and background score composed by Leela L. Girish Kuttan, based on lyrics by Kaithapram Damodaran, Ajish Dasan, and Sreeprasad, deserve special mention. The music remains deeply connected to the soul of the film.
Through Paithalattam, director and writer Vibin N. Velayudhan has accomplished something significant. He has succeeded in discovering the green human being hidden within the blind frameworks of rituals, devotion, and even godhood itself.
With its uncompromising politics and artistic excellence, Paithalattam stands as a remarkable cinematic experience—one that Malayalis can take pride in for years to come.
