I was not very fond of Aavasavyuham: The Arbit Documentation of an Amphibian Hunt, and Purusha Pretham didn't work that well for me either. Yet both films left me with the assurance that a fresh, explosive voice had arrived on the scene—that I should keep an eye on this filmmaker named Krishand, who would one day knock me out of my senses with something utterly dazzling and volatile. I am happy to report that that day has finally arrived. With Masthishka Maranam: A Frankenbiting of Simon's Memories, Krishand has constructed an audacious, innovative, and mind-blowingly original piece of cinematic fiction.
Most movies merely unfold on the screen. Masthishka Maranam, though, jumps and dances with reckless energy. A conventional director tackling multiple plot points usually allows one thread to settle and bloom before moving on to another storyline, eventually connecting everything logically, neatly, cleverly—with a bow tied around it. This director fears "losing" the audience; he worries so much about our attention span that he traps himself in clichés and never truly matures as an artist.
Then there is someone like Krishand, who trusts his audience so deeply that he fractures time and moves between events swiftly, feverishly, and with infectious enthusiasm. He trusts that we will run alongside him, and this trust allows him to push himself with films like Masthishka Maranam, where he crafts a distinct, high-energy aesthetic that seems lifted from the pages of comic books. Krishand's cyberpunk world isn't merely decorative; it operates according to its own rules governing cybercrime, voyeurism, and gaming. Characters invoke specific laws during arguments, and a man is criticized for using his VR gaming set on a sofa because the equipment is designed to be used in a bathtub to prevent overheating (no wonder the sofa burned due to the heat).
Krishand, along with his art director Alvin Joseph, creates fantastic futuristic devices and designs. The VR headset, connected to long, thick wires, looks both odd and sophisticated. Krishand could have used the shot of Bimal (Niranj Maniyanpilla Raju) wearing the gadget in a bathtub merely to evoke dystopian pessimism. But he surpasses the cliché by adding a fine comic layer to the image. The scene in which Bimal mistakes real police officers for characters in a zombie game is so fast, funny, and furious that only in hindsight do we begin to question the logic of these VR sets. Why did those officers appear in the game, and why didn't Inspector Praveen Shashank (Jagadish) and his team appear in the game that Frida Soman (Rajisha Vijayan) plays to gather evidence?
Frida Soman is a famous actress with a dedicated fanbase, a lawyer named Desdemona (Divya Prabha), and an assistant, Amber (Sreenath Babu). Through this lawyer, we learn that in this world, there exists an app for "fast-track" bail. But returning to Frida: she has a Frida Kahlo poster (it's actually the poster of Julie Taymor's 2002 film), and she is introduced with an item number. The film immediately establishes her as a sex object, which gives way to the reveal of a memory game in which players can romance the actress. In the Neo Kochi of 2046, one can extract an important memory—for example, a near-death experience—from a person and convert it into a video game. In Frida's case, the memory involves a murder, but only Bimal sees the blood and the corpses; others, meanwhile, get to fulfill their lustful desires. What's amusing is that it's not just men who get into bed with Frida in the game. Bimal's wife, Anindya (Ann Jamila Saleem), from whom Bimal is currently separated, also gratifies herself sexually through the actress's virtual image. Porn, you see, is not solely the domain of horny men.
Frida, of course, is not happy that strangers are romancing her in a virtual environment. The contemporary counterpart to such a scandal is the AI deepfakes of actresses created by anonymous men and circulated online. Krishand directly confronts celebrity culture, toxic fandom, and unethical AI practices. During the climax, Masthishka Maranam transforms into a courtroom drama in which Frida's case is exploited to sell the public—consumers—both cheap drama and commercial products. The film thus becomes an attack on sensationalism and targeted advertising. The latter is present from the beginning: in one early scene, Bimal's water purifier displays an insurance advertisement featuring a picture of his deceased daughter.
At one point, the film even presents a Ship of Theseus–like proposition, in which a woman is defended with the argument that she has altered herself on a cellular level by, among other things, upgrading her DNA. She is, in other words, no longer the same person.
The ideas Krishand explores in Masthishka Maranam are not entirely new, but he channels them through an aesthetic that is incredibly inventive, exhilaratingly hectic, and gloriously vibrant. Krishand's filmmaking has the stamina of youth, making many other filmmakers—including acclaimed veterans—seem old, pale, and stilted by comparison. Moreover, in Vijayan, Krishand finds an actress who not only matches his sensibilities but also reinvigorates them with fervor. I don't think there is a single bad performance here, but Vijayan is absolutely spectacular. This is undoubtedly her show—she is the main attraction. As Frida, the actress melts us with her seductive gestures and, with her furious eyes, sends tremors everywhere. This is not just one of the best performances of the year; it is a great performance.
Watching Masthishka Maranam, one realizes how limp, dull, and unimaginative most films are. In a climate where praise is often directed toward work that tells people what they want to hear, we need more filmmakers like Krishand—artists who do not merely try to score brownie points with virtuous messaging but instead spin the screen out of control with a chaotic spell. Krishand is a genuine risk-taker, something made especially evident by an ending that destabilizes a film already dizzy from its very first frame. He is not interested in leaving everything clean and elegantly tied up. He jolts us out of our seats and keeps us consistently restless. Krishand, in short, is a bold, unique, and extraordinary filmmaker. I cannot wait to see what he conjures up in the future.
Written by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times