Skip to main content

When Cinema Dares to Challenge Power


A film is meant to be an artistic expression, a reflection of society, and sometimes, a bold mirror held up to power. Empuraan, the much-anticipated sequel to Lucifer, has not just continued the story of Khureshi Ab’raam alias Stephen Nedumpally but has ignited a larger debate. Beyond its grand cinematic experience, the film has managed to disturb certain factions, not because it tells lies, but because it dares to tell uncomfortable truths.

The Fear of Truth?

From its very first frames, Empuraan establishes itself as more than just a political thriller—it’s a commentary on power, corruption, and manipulation. It presents riots, political conspiracies, and systemic control not as religious conflicts but as carefully orchestrated power plays. Remember what mausi said in the movie?

When a film brings up the Gujarat Riots, for example, why does it cause an uproar? What is there to hide? The fear is not about what is being said but about the possibility that people might start questioning and researching deeper truths. If a film can make an entire state Google Illuminati after Lucifer, what will Empuraan make them question?

Guts to Tell the Story

Crafting a political thriller on such a large scale, touching upon drug cartels, syndicates, and power dynamics, takes courage. It takes even more audacity to weave these elements into a storyline that parallels real-life political realities. The screenplay doesn’t shy away from pointing fingers at how power operates in a world of deception. We saw in Lucifer how drug trade infiltration was hinted at in 2019, and today, we see its full impact on society. If Empuraan is a warning for the next five years, will we be able to face its truth when the time comes? After all, we are living with a ticking water bomb above our heads. (For more details, watch the movie.)


Why the Panic?

It’s fascinating how certain political groups and individuals are reacting with panic to a mere film. Statements from political leaders, cyber wars between right and left-wing supporters, and the heated debates suggest that the movie has hit a nerve. But why? If it were just fiction, why fear? The real fear is not of the film itself but of the public waking up to reality. The orchestrated outrage only fuels curiosity—what truth is being suppressed?

Power Corrupts, and Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely

Power, when left unchecked, can lead to absolute corruption. The film attempts to unravel this reality, showing how those in control manipulate narratives, suppress opposition, and engineer events for their benefit. If the reactions to Empuraan prove anything, it is that power still fears the people.

If the upcoming news is true, the film may come out with an edited version soon—changing names or making adjustments. But making a film, talking about history,a fiction or speaking our opinions should still be one’s right in India. Now, we fear whether our tongues will be cut for speaking!!! 

Let’s face it—our right to expression is being stolen. Don’t fear questioning what is wrong, regardless of caste, religion, race, or political ideology.

So, what do you think? Are films just entertainment, or do they hold the power to expose realities? Share your thoughts below.

Beyond its political undertones, Empuraan is a cinematic masterpiece that deserves to be appreciated for its sheer brilliance. Lalettan's presence commands the screen effortlessly, while Prithviraj Sukumaran’s direction brings a Hollywood-like intensity to Malayalam cinema. The film’s technical aspects, from cinematography to background score, add to its immersive experience, making it a spectacle that demands to be watched on the biggest screen possible. Despite the controversies surrounding it, Empuraan stands tall as an exceptional piece of storytelling.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Woman Without D

The sun rays fought their way through the gap in the curtains, slicing across my eyes like a physical blow. My alarm screamed—a digital screech that seemed to vibrate inside my teeth. I swiped it off, the silence rushing back in, but the relief didn't follow. I lay there, staring at the ceiling fan cutting through the stagnant air. Which day is this? I wondered. It felt like the same day I had lived for the past six months. A gray, heavy loop. "Get up, Sruthi," I whispered to the empty room. "Just get up." I am Sruthi. On paper, I am a twenty-eight-year-old Senior Analyst at a top-tier firm. I am supposed to be in the prime of my life—ambitious, vibrant, climbing the ladder. But as I peeled the duvet off my body, I didn't feel twenty-eight. I felt ancient. I had slept eight hours. I had gone to bed at 10:00 PM like a disciplined child. Yet, as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, gravity felt twice as strong as it should be. There was no "ready to ...

The Brilliant Criminal We Chose Not to See

I came across a line recently — just a casual post online — and I haven't been able to shake it since. It said: "Georgekutty has become an underrated character just because he is played by Sri Mohanlal." I read it. Scrolled past. Came back. Read it again. And then I sat with it for a long time, because I think it is one of the great observations anyone has made about the Drishyam franchise. Here I am, still thinking about it. We have spent over a decade watching this man — this cable TV operator from a small village, fourth-grade dropout, devoted husband, fiercely loving father — and we have cheered for him. Every. Single. Time. We rooted for him in 2013. We stood up for him in 2021. And now, in 2026, with Drishyam 3 fresh in our hearts, we are doing it all over again. But here is the question I want to sit with today: Who exactly are we cheering for? Let me describe Georgekutty to you — not as the hero the story frames him as, but as who he actually is. He is a man with...

Onam: A Journey Back Home

  Onam has always been more than just a festival. For me, it has always been about being at home—with family, friends, and loved ones. The flowers, the laughter, the new clothes, and of course, the grand sadya—it was never about just traditions, but about the feeling of togetherness. When I think back to my childhood, my first memories of Onam take me to Mavelikara, my mother’s home. I can still recall the open spaces filled with countless flowers, the playful chaos of cousins running around, and the joy of slipping into brand-new dresses. Those days had a vibe of their own. Later, in Kottayam, Onam turned into a more intimate affair, but the spirit remained just as strong. After the festival, all of us cousins would gather at my great-grandmother’s house—a yearly reunion that we cherished deeply. My great-grandmother was the pillar that held our family together. She was a woman of wisdom and warmth, with a childlike charm that drew us to her. I remember her slipping small amou...