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Eko (2025) – A Slow Burn Masterclass in Mood, Mystery, and Atmosphere

Eko, directed by Dinjith Ayyathan and written & shot by Bahul Ramesh, is a film that demands patience and rewards it richly. Anchored ...



Eko, directed by Dinjith Ayyathan and written & shot by Bahul Ramesh, is a film that demands patience and rewards it richly. Anchored in the mist-shrouded hills of Kerala’s Kaattukunnu, this final chapter of the Animal Trilogy blends psychological tension, layered storytelling, and a haunting mood to deliver one of Malayalam cinema’s most compelling thrillers of recent years.  

 

From its very first frame, Eko establishes a tone both enigmatic and evocative. Bahul Ramesh’s cinematography is the heartbeat of the film — the fog-laden landscapes, the damp earth underfoot, and the chiaroscuro interplay of shadows render the environment itself a character. Here, the camera doesn’t just observe; it breathes the story, giving visual form to dread, anticipation, and unease.  

 

This isn’t cinema that rushes; it plots its course like a river finding its path. The pacing is deliberate, a slow burn that’s rare in mainstream thrillers. Yet this patience is not indulgent — each quiet moment, each lingering frame, serves to immerse the viewer deeper into the world on screen. By the time pivotal revelations unfold, you feel as if you’re part of the mysterious landscape, walking its trails, deciphering its secrets alongside the characters.  

 

At the centre of Eko is Sandeep Pradeep, whose intense, carefully calibrated performance anchors the narrative. He conveys inner conflict and curiosity with a quiet precision that keeps audiences invested even when scenes unfold slowly. Biana Momin stands out as well, delivering emotional depth that anchors her character’s journey through ambiguity and fear.  

 

Veteran actors like Vineeth, Narain, Binu Pappu, and Ashokan bring seasoned weight to the ensemble, adding texture and complexity to the film’s shifting timelines and moods. Saurabh Sachdeva’s intriguing depiction of the mythic figure of Kuriachan — mysterious, ominous, and lore-like — adds gravitas and legend to the story’s heart.  

 

Music by Mujeeb Majeed is subdued yet haunting — a score that doesn’t merely accompany the visuals, but converses with them. Rather than punctuating moments, it weaves into the suspense, enhancing every breath, every distant bark, and every silence. 

 

Editor Sooraj E. S. maintains a rhythm that respects the film’s deliberate pacing. Scenes unfold with intent, and the rhythmic cutting helps cultivate tension without resorting to cheap jolts or artificial urgency.  

 

Without spoiling its surprises, Eko builds its mystery through layers — fractured timelines, murmured secrets, and an overarching sense of something just out of reach. The story meanders through psychological terrain, inviting viewers not only to watch but to think, feel, and question. That journey culminates in a twist that is both unexpected and deeply satisfying — the kind of reveal that reframes everything you’ve seen without feeling like a mere gimmick. It certainly belongs among the most memorable endings of recent Malayalam cinema.  

 

What distinguishes Eko is its commitment to the cinematic — not just in craft but in experience. It is sensory and reflective, meditative, flirtatious with ambiguity yet confident in its emotional core. The pacing, while slow, is purposeful; the atmosphere is not a backdrop, but a pulse; the twist is not a trick, but a revelation that honours what came before.

 

This is pure cinema — a film that revels in the medium’s ability to weave mood, image, sound, and story into an immersive whole.

 

Eko is not merely a thriller to watch — it’s one to experience. With its slow-cooked tension, atmospheric visuals, and brilliant payoffs, it stands as a testament to Malayalam cinema’s strength in marrying artistry with emotion. If you crave cinema that lingers long after the credits roll, Eko is an essential journey into mood, mystery, and the sublime power of storytelling.

 

By Pratik Majumdar (author: Love Coffee Murder and 1975 The Year That Transformed Bollywood)

 

1 comment

  1. This review, I feel, is equally adept as the film, in piquing the reader's interest in the movie. Like the chiaroscuro of the fog in the movie, the review hints at intriguing elements of cinematic excellence that are bound to interest lovers of good cinema.

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