A Kerala Chief Minister’s liquor policy triggers left-wing protests on the streets while his IT entrepreneur son quietly seals a data deal with a Russian firm, and then a media explosion tears both worlds apart. This is the kind of story where the personal and the political are not merely intertwined; they are weaponised against each other, and Prathichaya knows exactly how uncomfortable that should feel.
Nivin Pauly’s John Varghese Is the Emotional Spine of a Film That Needs One
Nivin Pauly plays John Varghese, an IT entrepreneur navigating a world where corporate data deals and family legacy collide under media scrutiny. His performance does the structural work that the screenplay occasionally refuses to do, grounding an otherwise abstract political conspiracy in something recognisably human.
There is a particular quietness to how Pauly handles the son-protecting-father dynamic. He does not reach for melodrama. The restraint, in a film of this political scale, is either disciplined or frustrating depending on your patience. I find it largely the former, though the 162-minute runtime tests that goodwill.
Balachandra Menon’s Chief Minister Is the Film’s Most Dangerous Ingredient
Balachendra Menon, playing Chief Minister KN Varghese, brings an institutional gravitas that Malayalam cinema rarely wastes on supporting roles. His politician carries the specific texture of a man who has governed long enough to confuse power with virtue. When sexual assault allegations and a media scam converge on him, Menon makes sure the character never collapses into a simple villain or a clean martyr.
That ambiguity is Prathichaya’s most interesting structural asset, and credit belongs equally to Menon’s performance and to Unnikrishnan’s instinct to keep the moral ledger unbalanced.
B. Unnikrishnan’s Direction Has Ambition but the Screenplay Runs Too Long
B. Unnikrishnan, who both directs and writes Prathichaya, is clearly building toward something larger than a conventional political thriller. The premise, data protection, Russian corporate interests, Kerala party politics, is genuinely contemporary. It speaks to anxieties that feel urgent right now.
The strength here is conceptual architecture. Unnikrishnan layers the Chief Minister’s public crisis against his son’s private corporate crisis with some structural elegance. The liquor policy subplot in Act One functions well as a pressure valve, it establishes the political temperature before the media scam ignites everything.
The flaw is discipline. At 162 minutes, the screenplay does not earn every scene it includes. The mid-section, where John works to manage his father’s image, loses momentum in ways that tighter writing could have fixed. ETimes rated the film 3.5 out of 5, a score that accurately captures a film that succeeds on intent more than execution.
If you follow Malayalam political dramas, Malayalam Drama reviews on this site trace the genre’s recent evolution beyond what any single film can carry.
The Political Thriller Frame, Media, Corruption, and Data as Weapons
The decision to route corporate data protection through a Russian firm is Prathichaya’s most provocative gambit. It immediately raises questions about sovereignty, information control, and what governments actually protect when they claim to protect citizens. The film is at its sharpest when it keeps these ideas in active collision.
As a publication noted, “Prathichaya wants to be an intriguing political crime thriller that has a lot to say about corruption and media manipulation.” The keyword there is “wants.” The ambition is clearly present. The follow-through is uneven.
The media scam that exposes the Chief Minister is the thriller’s central mechanism, and it works well enough to sustain interest. But the film’s political observations, about how media and corporate power intersect to manufacture truth, occasionally feel more asserted than demonstrated through dramatic action.
The Reception Question, Who Is This Film Actually For?
Prathichaya carries a U certificate, which is an interesting choice for a film dealing with sexual assault allegations, corporate espionage, and political corruption. It signals an intent to reach the widest possible Malayalam audience rather than a niche arthouse crowd.
That ambition, however, creates a tension. A 162-minute political thriller with Russian data deals and media manipulation as its engine is not a casual Friday-night watch. The film’s tonal seriousness will reward patient viewers, those who read political fiction, follow Kerala’s actual governance debates, or simply enjoy watching two strong actors work through a morally complex dynamic.
If the film lands as intended, it sits alongside Kerala’s better tradition of politically engaged cinema. If the pacing loses you in the second act, very little else will pull you back.
Prathichaya asks serious questions about data, power, and political survival, if that registers, Nivin Pauly’s controlled performance alone is worth the investment. Watch it in a theatre if the political genre speaks to you; streaming will blunt the scale. But go in knowing the screenplay sometimes mistakes length for weight.
If Priyadarshi’s recent risk-taking in uncharted territory interests you, the Suyodhana 2026 review makes for a sharp companion read on how actors navigate politically loaded material.
Prathichaya (2026) is a flawed but sincere political thriller that Balachandra Menon and Nivin Pauly elevate well beyond what a looser screenplay deserves, worth a 3 out of 5, and an honest attempt at something Malayalam cinema needs more of.
For another case of an actor holding together a film that wavers around him, the Happy Raj verdict offers a revealing parallel.
Ankit Jaiswal is the Chief Author, covering Indian cinema and OTT releases with honest, no-filler criticism. An SEO strategist by background, he brings a research-driven approach to film writing, cutting through hype to tell you exactly what's worth your time.
