On Christmas Day, 1980, Malayalam cinema witnessed the debut of Mohanlal in Manjil Virinja Pookkal, a film that heralded the arrival of one of its greatest actors. Fast forward 44 years to another Christmas Day, and Mohanlal steps into a different spotlight, this time as a director, with Barroz. A children’s fantasy 3D adventure film, Barroz promised an enchanting voyage into myths and maritime history. Unfortunately, what it delivers is more akin to a leaky ship adrift in a sea of mediocrity.
The story of Barroz centres on a mythical 17th-century guardian ghost bound by duty to protect the treasure of the D’Gama family and pass it on to the rightful heir. The plot spans centuries, blending Portuguese-Afro-Indian folklore with themes of loyalty, servitude and familial love. It is a premise brimming with potential, but somewhere between the treasure cave and the modern-day Goa casino plans, the film loses its way. Mohanlal’s directorial ambition bursts forth with an enthusiasm that’s hard to miss, even if it often feels like a treasure hunt without a map. The D’Gama mansion gleams with grandeur, and the treasure cave practically hums with mystical allure through cinematographer Santosh Sivan's eyes, but pacing issues rob the adventure of its magic. The historical prologue teases promise but the modern-day sequences trip over themselves with dialogue that seems like it is penned by overzealous schoolchildren.
Barroz himself, portrayed by Mohanlal, is a tragic figure bound by loyalty. His love for Isabella, the daughter of his master, is touching, although the emotional beats are often overshadowed by clunky storytelling. A particularly well-thought-out moment where Barroz kneels to hand over the treasure keys is later mirrored beautifully when the heir reciprocates the gesture. This reversal of staging is a rare stroke of brilliance, neatly encapsulating the film’s themes of loyalty and responsibility. However, moments like these are drowned in a sea of missed opportunities. The African elements in the story, meant to add depth, come across as stereotypical and uncomfortable. These characters aren’t just underdeveloped—they’re barely developed, existing solely to nudge the plot forward like pawns on a carelessly arranged chessboard. It’s a tone-deaf, uncomfortable misstep that reeks of laziness and ignorance.
Mohanlal’s performance is another mixed bag. As an actor, he has delivered countless memorable roles, but here, his portrayal of Barroz remains largely stiff. There are glimmers of his legendary charisma, particularly in the film’s final moments, but for the most part, he feels constrained—much like the ghost he plays. The supporting cast fares no better. The antagonists, meanwhile, are as forgettable as they are generic. Dialogue writing is one of the film’s weakest links, painfully evident in these performances.
Technically, Barroz shines in parts. The visual effects, especially the sequences involving the voodoo doll, are polished and occasionally impressive. The 3D elements add depth, although they never feel groundbreaking. Despite being shot in stereoscopic 3D, the film often resembles a converted 2D production. It is a feast for the eyes at times but more like a lukewarm buffet overall. Jijo Punnoose's 1984 classic My Dear Kuttichathan still remains the benchmark for Malayalam 3D films—its charm and immersive appeal unmatched even four decades later.
Originally envisioned by Mohanlal and TK Rajeev Kumar, Barroz was meant to be a live 3D stage play based on Jijo's novel of the same title. When the logistics proved too daunting, the concept evolved into a film. Yet, traces of its play roots remain, especially in the staging and theatrical dialogue delivery. The cinematic essence is missing in many portions, leaving Barroz feeling more like a filmed rehearsal than a fully realised movie.
As for the narrative itself, the film attempts to juggle colonial history, fantasy and family drama. To its credit, it does explore the nuances of servitude and loyalty with more depth than one might expect from a children’s film. Barroz’s inability to see his own metaphorical prison adds layers to his character, even if the film as a whole struggles to delve into them meaningfully. There is also a certain poetic irony in Barroz’s troubled production history. From its initial conception as a stage play to the pandemic-induced delays and multiple rewrites, the journey of making the film is almost as dramatic as the film itself. Jijo eventually distanced himself from the project, unhappy with the changes made to his vision. His absence lingers over the film like a ghost, haunting its uneven storytelling and whispering of what might have been. The climactic message of loyalty and love is heartfelt, even if the journey to get there is bumpy. And then there is the epilogue—a baffling cameo that feels entirely unnecessary. If Barroz had ended on the poignant note of its climactic scene, it might have redeemed itself slightly. Instead, the film overstays its welcome, leaving viewers with an aftertaste of cringe. Mark Kilian’s background score complements the narrative without overpowering it. The songs, composed by Lydian Nadhaswaram, are hit or miss.
Fantasy films for children are a rarity in Malayalam cinema, and Mohanlal deserves credit for attempting to fill this gap. Yet, Barroz is a reminder that ambition alone cannot make up for weak execution. The film dreams of being a priceless treasure, but in the end, it’s little more than a shiny trinket, polished just enough to catch the light but not enough to hold our attention. In a pivotal moment, Barroz, in his infinite wisdom, declares to Isa, “Dear, no treasure surpasses the value of a drop of tear shed for another.” A touching sentiment, although one cannot help but wonder if the audience might also shed a few tears of their own after finishing this uneven adventure.
Director: Mohanlal
Cast: Mohanlal, Maya Rao West, Tuhin Menon, Guru Somasundaram
Rating: 2/5