Perumani

superstition, male ego, and the politics of small‑town life. Its visual language — marked by wide‑angle compositions and a lightly caricatured tone — evokes a “Wes Anderson meets Malayalam village” aesthetic. Here, the film’s impact isn’t driven solely by its writing; the vibrant colour palette and exaggerated lensing are integral in setting the comedic pitch and mood. Blending a variety of characters and tonal shifts, the film finds its standout in Vinay Forrt, who perfectly captures Nasir’s puffed‑up ego and narrow‑mindedness, infusing his paranoia with an oddly endearing comic edge. Lukman Avaran plays the straight man with restraint, grounding the surrounding eccentricity, while Deepa Thomas navigates between heightened energy and quiet composure with ease. Sunny Wayne and the rest of the ensemble add texture, though some roles feel more like vivid sketches than fully realised characters. Manesh Madhavan’s cinematography vividly frames the rustic charm and idiosyncrasies of Perumani, while Joel Kavi’s editing keeps the narrative coherent despite its crowded cast — though a leaner cut could have improved pacing. Gopi Sundar’s music supports the storytelling, blending smoothly with the narration without drawing undue attention. Quirky and visually distinctive, Perumani works best when it leans into its eccentric humour and keen observations of human behaviour. While uneven pacing and underdeveloped characters hold it back, its unique tone, memorable moments, and Vinay Forrt’s performance make it an engaging, if imperfect, watch.