Before You Compare Mollywood and Kollywood…

There has been a debate on social media claiming that Malayalam cinema or Mollywood is far superior to Tamil cinema. People often say that Kollywood does not make movies like the Malayalam industry, or that they have a lot to learn from them. Some even argue that if a few Tamil films had been released in Malayalam, they would have been celebrated as masterpieces. But before romanticising this comparison, it is important to ask a simple question. On what basis are you comparing two massive industries that function under completely different systems and audience mindsets.

Let us start with the numbers. In 2024, the Malayalam film industry released around 200 films. The Tamil industry released slightly over 250. Out of those 200 Malayalam films, only about 25 to 30 were considered successful either commercially or critically. And out of that list, most people can name only a handful that went viral on social media for example films like Manjummel Boys, Guruvayoor Ambalanadayil or Kishkinda Kaandam. So how fair is it to generalise that Malayalam cinema is always better. For every Bramayugam there are ten others that no one even talks about. The same applies to Tamil cinema. Both industries make good films, average films and bad films.

Now coming to the next question, if Tamil cinema has so much talent and resources, why do we still make so many forgettable films. The answer lies not just with the creators but also with the audience. What kind of films do Tamil audiences celebrate the most. Mass commercial entertainers. The kind of films where logic takes a back seat but whistles fill the theatre. So what do filmmakers make next. Another film that caters to that same mindset. Because in the end cinema is business, not charity.

Even Director Sundar C once said in an interview that if Tamil audiences had supported Anbe Sivam he would have made more such meaningful films. But when those films fail and the same audience celebrates his Aranmanai series what message does it send. Directors simply follow demand. If the crowd only rewards commercial formulas, then art will naturally become formulaic. The audience has as much responsibility as the filmmaker.

Now let us talk about the argument that “if this Tamil film had released in Malayalam it would have been celebrated as a cult". That line has been repeated so many times that it has lost meaning. Great cinema is not about where it releases but about how it is written. Writing is the backbone. This is one area where Kollywood has truly fallen behind. Directors here want to take credit for everything like story, screenplay, direction and somewhere in this process, the film loses its depth. Malayalam cinema on the other hand, treats writing as a separate discipline. There is a writer who lives and breathes the script, and a director who interprets it. That distinction matters.

Kollywood also suffers from another illusion that casting an actor with a fan base can guarantee success. It does not work like that. Compare the choices of top stars in both industries. Rajinikanth’s last four films were Coolie, Jailer, Vettaiyan, Annathey. Mammootty’s last four were Turbo, Bramayugam, Kaathal, Kannur squad. The difference is evident. One relies on the image, the other experiments with roles. You might say the actors make their own choices, but in truth they mirror what the audience demands.

The issue is not that Tamil cinema lacks talent or that Malayalam cinema is flawless. The issue is that you as viewers, have created a culture where mediocrity sells and craft struggles. When we cheer for repetitive stories, we tell filmmakers that this is enough. When we mock films that try something new, we push the industry a step back.

So before making another sweeping statement that Malayalam cinema is better, ask yourself who is really responsible for what Tamil cinema has become. The problem is not with the filmmakers alone. It starts with the audience that decides what deserves to be celebrated.

Kantara Chapter 1 Review

Kantara Chapter 1 released in 2025 under the direction of Rishab Shetty who also plays the lead role. The film features Rishab Shetty, Rukmini Vasanth and Jayaram in prominent roles. Music is composed by B. Ajaneesh Loknath, while the cinematography is handled by Arvind S. Kashyap. Together they build a strong technical foundation for a film that attempts to go deeper into the roots of faith, power and people.

The story works as a prequel to Chapter 2. While the earlier film explored the clash between the landlord and the tribal community, this chapter moves further back to show the king, his rule and the oppressed tribes around him. On paper it connects well with the themes of oppression and survival. In execution though the first half lacks clarity. It swings between strength and weakness, moving in and out without a steady grip.

The acting however is a major strength. Rishab Shetty once again proves his command over the screen. Rukmini Vasanth delivers her role perfectly and Jayaram does with conviction. Even the supporting cast shines, especially the comic roles. The humour flows naturally and creates moments where the entire theatre bursts into laughter. At the same time the film shifts into serious spaces with equal impact. Each actor delivers their part very well.

The cinematography is the real standout. Arvind S. Kashyap brings visual mastery to the film. The colour palette, the lighting and the detailing of each frame lift the story beyond its flaws. Certain shots look breathtaking. Especially the visuals of the tiger. It is proof that with proper investment and vision, a film can look truly cinematic.

Music and sound work land in a mixed space. Ajaneesh Loknath’s songs are strong and blend well with the mood. The background score works at times but in certain theatres the sound mixing created an imbalance where the bgm was louder than the dialogues. This reduced the clarity of some important scenes. Screenplay too feels uneven. At places it is engaging but often loses its direction. The film stretches unnecessarily and even feels like it has two endings. What should have been wrapped neatly is dragged out, which weakens the impact.

That said Kantara Chapter 1 still has several goosebump moments. The way godly elements are portrayed hits with raw power. Even someone who does not believe in divine forces can feel those sequences. The difference from Chapter 2 is that this one leans more into fantasy, which at times feels out of place compared to the raw realism of the earlier film.

There is also an interesting look into history, especially the barter system and the dynamics of power between oppressor and oppressed. These small touches ground the film in reality and add depth to the story.

Overall Kantara Chapter 1 is a decent watch. It has flaws in writing and pacing but it also delivers memorable visuals, strong acting and powerful moments. This is a film that deserves to be experienced on the big screen.

Rating: 6.5/10 ⭐️

The Price Of Idolizing - Part 2

In the previous part we saw how idolizing politicians and actors blinds citizens and turns tragedies into stages for their politics. The cycle of glorifying leaders while ignoring accountability has been repeating for decades. The same culture of idolizing exists in another space that touches millions, cricket.

Let’s talk stars. Sachin Tendulkar and Virat Kohli are revered as god and King of cricket. Their records are celebrated and their influence is unquestioned. But this adoration shields them from accountability. When matches are lost due to their repeated errors or strategic failures, criticism is muted. The team suffers, the nation suffers, yet the individual continues to be idolized. 

India has won only two ODI World Cups in all these years despite being a country obsessed with cricket. This nation has produced extraordinary players, stars who are celebrated as gods, yet the results do not match the worship. This gap is not due to a lack of talent or resources but due to the effect of idolizing.

When a player underperforms in nine matches and shines in one, the nation celebrates that single success while ignoring the failures. Stars are protected with phrases such as “form is temporary, class is permanent” even when those temporary failures cost the country crucial tournaments. Idolizing shields them from accountability, and in the process the team and the nation suffer.

Countries with multiple World Cups follow a different approach. Players are treated as professionals. If performance dips over time they are benched, regardless of their past reputation. Decisions are made for the team, not for preserving an image. In India, once a player is idolized, endless chances follow. Youngsters with talent and hunger are often seen carrying water while established stars continue despite repeated underperformance.

This is the price of idolizing. Tournaments slip away, trophies remain elusive, and yet the focus stays on individuals and personal milestones. The cricket board earns, broadcasters earn, players earn, but fans and citizens lose. Time, money, and collective pride are spent, yet the return is meagre because accountability is sacrificed at the process of worship.

Cricket in India has shifted into a business where fans are no longer participants in a sport but consumers in an industry. Cheering is directed more at individuals than at results. The culture has moved from respect to blind faith, and the fact is blind faith never builds champions.

Until players are seen as professionals first and not as gods, victories will remain a dream and cycles of disappointment will continue. Personal records may rise and endorsements may multiply, but the nation will always fall short of its true potential.

This is what idolizing costs. It is not restricted to cricket alone, but shows a deeper national pattern of worshipping individuals instead of demanding results. And in that blindness of idolizing the people themselves are the ones who suffer.