How Malayalam Cinema’s Father-Son Depictions Reevaluate Traditional Masculinity & Parental Influence

FOR THE LONGEST TIME, Malayalam cinema has successfully navigated around traditional father-son depictions in their narratives. While most tropes revolved around strict, disciplinarian fathers and rebellious sons or the sacrificial dad versus the prodigal son, the themes too were centred around generational conflicts, patriarchal influence, family pride, and legacy. Very few narratives delved into the nuances of father-son conflicts. But in the last 10 years, with the new wave setting in, along with the decline of the alpha male narratives, there have been attempts to explore beyond the labels when it comes to such interpersonal relationships.

Retired army officer Appu Pillai (Vijayaraghavan) in Dinjith Ayyathan's Kishkinda Kandam (2024) can easily be categorised as a conventional patriarchal father figure. Even if one is willing to overlook his dementia, he has set boundaries for his two adult sons. It was his controlling nature that prompted his elder son to relocate, as well as cut all ties with him. For the younger son, Ajayan (Asif Ali), his father is still an authoritarian figure. It is also disturbing to see Ajayan passively enabling his father to bully his toddler son, not realising its potential after-effects. The father also cold-shoulders his son’s new bride and doesn’t even make attempts to connect with her. But all that is cloaked under the immunity of dementia. Even in the crucial reveal, Appu Pillai’s response reinforces his toxic parenting style, thereby allowing him the façade of benevolence.

In Anand Menen's Vaazha (2024), which has the overused “boy-to-men” genre, the dads' relationship with their sons typically reinforces generational conflicts, toxic parenting style, and emotional unavailability. From a very young age, they have to deal with their dictatorial behaviour, resulting in low self-esteem, fear of failure, inability to be expressive, and ending up being rebellious. The fathers are only focused on academics, high marks, and upholding the family honour and they use available emotional blackmail to pull them down. Theirs also append every conventional parental attitude—including forcing children to choose subjects/careers to relive their unfulfilled dreams. Meanwhile, the sons struggle to keep their parents happy and fester their low self-esteem. But what’s ineffective is how the narrative in the guise of coming to a happy ending, empathises with the dads for their toxic parenting.  Since there is an overemphasis on reconciliation rather than accountability, they end up undermining toxic parenting.

But on the contrary in Vipin Das's Guruvayoor Ambalanadayil (2024) though Anandan (Prithviraj) comes across as toxic and aggressive, his father (Jagadish) appears sensitive and assertive and is unafraid to confront his son’s behaviour. The senior also displays irreverence in his interactions with his son, which is refreshing to watch.

In Jacobinte Swargarajyam (2016) written and directed by Vineeth Sreenivasan, we have an archetypal patriarchal father figure heading a nuclear family in Dubai. Jacob runs a flourishing business; his wife takes care of the household. They have three obedient sons. Jacob (Renji Panicker) has his life meticulously orchestrated, and therefore even his relationship with the children seems very strategic. He tries to be a “cool dad” and yet one feels more intimidation and awe than a genuine connection with his sons.

On the contrary, there is a lot more relaxed bond between Chacko (Lal) and his children in Altaf Salim's Njandukalude Naatil Oridavela (2017). It can also be that Chacko is a subversion to a typical man-of-the-house narrative.  He has no qualms about letting his wife Sheela take over the role of a decision-maker and is unafraid to show vulnerability, thereby challenging traditional masculine norms. Since the children have grown under such a parentage, they have an easy rapport with their father, and such a family structure also enables gender equality.

One of the most poignant father-son relationships unfolds in Dileesh Pothan’s Maheshinte Prathikaram (2016). Mahesh’s widowed father is silent for the most part. Very early in the film, we get a hint of their deeply intimate bond, when an anxious Mahesh (Fahadh Fasil) finds his dad missing. His father seems to be in his realm, unaffected by the humans, still largely mediating around nature and its infiniteness. But then he is very perspective about his son’s life and deals with all the conflicts with nonchalance.  Even Mahesh’s life-changing tip about photography comes from his dad. Even that is delivered so casually, typical of how he views the world. Though it is Mahesh who appears to be taking care of his father, in reality, it is his dad who emotionally anchors him.

If one requires a disturbing case study in toxic parenting, look no further than Kuttan’s suffocating relationship with his teenage son in Ratheena's PT's Puzhu (2022). Kuttan (Mammootty) micromanaging his son’s life can make the viewer feel as repressed as his son. From instructing him on brushing his teeth, and studies, to forcefully making him watch a video featuring his late mother, Kuttan without even once raising his hands unleashes profound emotional violence. And typically, when he realises that his son hates him, he genuinely seems to be hurt, unaware of the toxicity he has been emitting daily.

In Ayyappanum Koshiyum, Joji, and Kala, we are privy to the devastating consequences of toxic masculinity and patriarchal upbringings. When ex-Havildar Koshy (Prithviraj Sukumaran) and S I Ayyappan Nair (Biju Menon) engage in a relentless ego battle, it’s easier to empathise with the lesser privileged Nair and cast smears on rich, spoilt Koshy’s entitlement and privilege. But in one meeting with Koshy’s dad, Kurien John, one realises he is a victim of patriarchy, helplessly inured, under the scornful eye of his feudal father. One could feel Koshy struggling hard to contain his vulnerability, aware of the pointless brawl between them. It is, in fact, his conditioned upbringing that stops him in his tracks. Similarly, Joji (Fahadh Faasil) has grown under the shadow of his hypermasculine dad and brothers in Joji and considers any show of authority or power as an excuse to flex his masculinity. Kala’s Shaji (Tovino Thomas) is another byproduct of a toxic masculine dad, that has left him emotionally scarred for life, including the way he views the world.

What sets the otherwise conventional, controlling dad (Vijayaraghavan) in Prajith Karanavar's Oru Vadakkan Selfie (2015) is how he is presented with a touch of mirth. So he doesn’t shout or grovel to his lackadaisical son (Nivin Pauly) but prefers to give out blunt threats, instead of emotional manipulation, which also turns out to be very effective. Premam’s (2015) father, though he appears only in a scene, is more a fantasy — a cool, aggressive, alpha-male father who is on back-slapping terms with his son and at the same time slyly instructs him to not let go of his machismo.

The evolving portrayals of fathers in Malayalam cinema help examine complex family dynamics and patriarchal norms through a new lens. The nuanced, multidimensional characters aid in reevaluating traditional masculinity and the lasting impact of parental influence.