There is a moment in ‘Drishyam 3’ when Georgekutty (Mohanlal) sits alone in his dimly lit home theatre, rewinding a film for the hundredth time. The scene is meant to mirror the first film’s famous monologue about movies shaping his thinking. But unlike its predecessors – where every frame crackled with tension – this moment feels like the franchise rewinding on itself without moving forward.
Jeethu Joseph’s third installment in the blockbuster ‘Drishyam’ franchise is not a bad film. It is simply the least effective of the three – a respectable thriller that struggles to justify its existence after two masterful predecessors.
What works: Mohanlal and the first half
The film opens promisingly. Six years after the events of ‘Drishyam 2’, Georgekutty has moved his family to a quieter town. Life appears normal – until a stranger arrives claiming to know “what really happened to Varun Prabhakar.” The first hour builds intrigue with Joseph’s trademark patience: long takes, measured dialogue, and the slow tightening of a noose.
Mohanlal, as always, is the anchor. At 66, he plays Georgekutty with the weariness of a man who has spent a decade looking over his shoulder. There are no heroics here – just a tired, desperate father who has run out of clever plans. His eyes, more than his words, carry the weight of guilt and fear.
What doesn’t: The second half and contrived twists
The trouble begins when the film enters its second hour. Unlike the first two films – where every twist felt earned and every lie layered – ‘Drishyam 3’ relies on contrivance. A crucial piece of evidence resurfaces in a way that defies logic. A new character (played by a competent but underwritten Asif Ali) makes investigative leaps that the police could not make in two previous films.
Joseph also falls into the sequel trap of escalating stakes without deepening tension. More characters, more conspiracies, and more flashbacks – but less genuine suspense. By the climax, the film resorts to a twist that, while surprising, undermines the very premise that made Georgekutty fascinating: his ordinariness.
Where are the women?
The film sidelines its female characters – a troubling regression for a franchise that once gave Meena and Ansiba emotional weight. Rani (Meena) is reduced to two weeping scenes. Anju (Ansiba) has barely any dialogue. The mother-daughter conflict that drove ‘Drishyam 2’ is completely absent.
In a franchise built on a family’s collective lie, ‘Drishyam 3’ forgets to give that family anything to do.
The comparison problem
‘Drishyam 3’ suffers from the inevitable comparison to its predecessors. The 2013 original was a masterclass in dramatic irony – we knew the truth, we watched Georgekutty build his alibi, and we rooted for him anyway. The 2021 sequel was an unexpected meditation on guilt, ageing, and the impossibility of escaping the past.
The third film offers neither the cleverness of the first nor the emotional depth of the second. It is a decent thriller that would have impressed if it were not carrying the ‘Drishyam’ name.
Technical aspects
Sujith Vaassudev’s cinematography is typically elegant – shadow-heavy interiors and overcast exteriors reflect Georgekutty’s internal gloom. The editing, however, works against the film; the second half drags with repetitive scenes of investigation and counter-investigation.
Anil Johnson’s background score is restrained, wisely avoiding melodrama. But the absence of a memorable theme – the first film’s haunting flute piece, the second’s brooding strings – is noticeable.
Who should watch this?
For Mohanlal fans, ‘Drishyam 3’ is essential viewing – his performance alone justifies the ticket price. For completionists, it closes the trilogy, albeit shakily. But for those seeking the tight, ingenious thriller that defined the franchise, the law of diminishing returns has finally caught up with Georgekutty.
Final verdict
‘Drishyam 3’ is not the disaster that some feared. But it is the first film in the franchise where you leave the theatre not marvelling at Georgekutty’s mind, but wondering if this story needed to be told at all.
