Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 6 Min Read
“A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity; it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.”
— Agatha Christie
There comes a point early in Balan: The Boy when you begin to wonder where all this is leading. Director Chidambaram wants you to sit with that uncertainty, to inhabit the anxiety of a mother raising her five- or six-year-old son against impossible odds. A child she gave birth to in prison for a crime the film never fully reveals.
Although it presents itself as a thriller, the story is ultimately about motherhood, identity and survival. It is a film built less around plot than emotional experience, asking its audience to remain invested in people rather than revelations. Films of this nature often risk becoming too inward-looking.
The question is whether Balan: The Boy manages to remain both thoughtful and engaging.
Story
The film opens with a mother and her young son walking out of prison after serving an unspecified sentence. We know neither their real names nor the crime that brought them there. We know nothing of their past, their family or where they truly belong. That absence of information becomes the film’s greatest hook.
What follows is a life lived in transit. Moving from one place to another under assumed identities, they survive on carefully constructed lies, leaving before suspicion catches up with them. Every conversation is rehearsed. Every action is calculated. The mother takes whatever work keeps them fed, while survival remains the only constant.
Their journey eventually brings them to an isolated house, where the mother becomes caretaker to an elderly woman living alone. Fierce, sharp-tongued and feared by the village, the old woman has been abandoned by almost everyone, including a son whose presence is reduced to the occasional phone call. Ironically, that loneliness offers the mother and child something they have long searched for: anonymity and perhaps the possibility of finally settling down.
Whether they have finally found refuge is a question the film answers with admirable restraint, setting the stage for a quietly compelling thriller.
Screenplay
Writer Jithu Madhavan once again demonstrates why he is among the most exciting voices in Malayalam cinema today. After the wildly different worlds of Aavesham and Manjummel Boys, he shifts gears again, crafting a psychological thriller built less on twists than sustained unease.
The screenplay’s greatest strength lies in its control of suspense. Rather than relying on constant revelations, it immerses us in the anxiety that governs every waking moment of the mother and son. Every interaction carries the possibility of exposure. Every conversation feels like a test they cannot afford to fail. The tension comes not from what happens, but from what could.
The narrative unfolds in two distinct movements, with shifting perspectives that gradually deepen our understanding of the characters. Yet its emotional core never wavers. It remains a story about survival, displacement and the search for belonging. By the time the narrative threads converge, the climax delivers not only answers but genuine emotional weight.
The screenplay is not without flaws. The second half occasionally loses momentum, with a few scenes lingering longer than necessary. Some supporting characters also dilute the film’s focus without adding enough to the narrative.
At its strongest, however, the film keeps its attention firmly on the relationship between the mother and son. Their bond, expressed as much through silence as dialogue, becomes its most compelling source of tension. It is in those quiet moments, where every glance and pause carries meaning, that the screenplay is at its most assured.
Technical Aspects
Balan: The Boy is technically accomplished without ever calling attention to its craft. Every department works in service of the story.
Shyju Khalid’s cinematography is a lesson in visual restraint. Characters are frequently framed through windows, doorways and trees, creating a constant sense of concealment that mirrors their emotional and physical state. The camera observes rather than intrudes, often following the mother and son with measured patience. If Manjummel Boys relied on darkness and claustrophobic compositions to evoke fear, Balan: The Boy achieves a similar effect through naturalism. Diffused daylight, earthy greens and muted interiors quietly reinforce the characters’ transient existence.
The film’s world-building is equally impressive. Ordinary spaces gradually acquire an air of menace. A tea shop, a bus stop, a construction site or a police checkpoint are never inherently threatening, yet each carries the possibility of exposure. Danger is rarely visible, but always present.
Sushin Shyam delivers one of his most understated scores in recent years. Rather than announcing emotion, the music sustains a quiet unease that mirrors the protagonists’ fragile existence. Ambient sounds, natural silences and the score blend so seamlessly that they become part of the same emotional landscape, deepening the film’s psychological tension without overwhelming it.
Performances
Silence plays an integral role in Balan: The Boy, making it an inherently cinematic experience. Much of what the film communicates comes not through dialogue but through carefully composed frames and restrained performances.
Farzana Palathingal is exceptional as Balan’s mother, conveying fear, resilience and unconditional love with remarkable control, never once giving in to melodrama. Equally impressive is Adhisheshan K. R. as the young Balan. For a debutant, he displays extraordinary ease before the camera, matching Farzana’s quiet intensity and becoming the emotional anchor of the film.
Dolly June, as the formidable Granny, is one of the film’s finest casting choices. Reportedly discovered through Instagram, she inhabits the role with such authenticity that it is difficult to imagine anyone else playing it. Tovino Thomas, appearing in the latter half as Abbas, sheds his star persona to deliver an assured performance. While Abbas has some compelling moments, the character ultimately feels underwritten, leaving the impression that his emotional arc deserved greater depth.
The casting as a whole feels instinctively right. Every actor appears rooted in this world, reinforcing the film’s emotional authenticity.
Verdict
Balan: The Boy is one of those rare films that embraces the language of cinema without sacrificing audience engagement. It trusts silence over exposition, observation over spectacle, and emotional honesty over manipulation. At its heart, it is a quietly devastating exploration of motherhood, identity and survival, asking difficult questions about morality in a world where staying alive often demands impossible choices.
Anchored by a deeply affecting central relationship, restrained performances and uniformly excellent technical craftsmanship, Chidambaram delivers a film that is immersive, emotionally resonant and deeply humane. If there is one reservation, it is that the second half could have benefited from a tighter edit, with a handful of scenes and supporting characters contributing less than they should.
Even so, Balan: The Boy is another reminder of why Malayalam cinema continues to set the benchmark for grounded, character-driven storytelling in India. It lingers long after the credits roll, not because of shocking twists or grand revelations, but because of the humanity at its core. Thoughtful without becoming inaccessible, and cinematic without slipping into self-indulgence, it is a film well worth seeking out.
IMDb rating: 8.3/10
My rating: 4/5
Balan: The Boy is currently running in theatres.
Pic credits: KVN Productions/Thespian Films
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About the author
Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).
