Director - Anuraj Manohar 
Writer- Abin Joseph 
Cast - Tovino Thomas, Suraj Venjaramoodu Cheran, Arya Salim, Priyamvada Krishnan, Rini Udayakumar, Jithin Eden, Badusha NM, Kumar Sethu 
Duration – 138 Minutes
 
There are films that entertain, some that educate — and then there are the ones that quietly rattle you long after the credits roll. Narivetta, directed by Anuraj Manohar and penned by Abin Joseph, falls squarely in the third category. It’s not flashy or emotionally manipulative — it’s patient, deeply rooted, and brutally honest in its portrayal of a young man caught between personal ambition and uncomfortable truths.
 
At the heart of the film is Varghese Peter, played by Tovino Thomas with subtlety and grit. He’s not your typical coming-of-age protagonist — he’s grown up, unemployed, stubborn, and oddly proud. He refuses every government job offered to him, convinced that anything less than an inspector’s badge is beneath him. It’s both infuriating and believable. Tovino brings a lived-in quality to Varghese that makes you both root for and occasionally want to shake him.
 
The pacing of the first half might test your patience, but it’s necessary. It lays the foundation — of a man coddled by his mother and cushioned by a relationship with Nancy (Priyamvada Krishnan), until life pulls the rug out from under him. When Nancy distances herself, it hits Varghese that he can't hide from adulthood anymore.
 
The second half takes a sharper turn, throwing Varghese into the wilderness — literally and metaphorically — as he joins the police force and is posted to Wayanad. The transition from the calm waters of Kuttanad to the raw, uneasy terrain of the forest mirrors the inner shift in Varghese. In this backdrop, he meets Basheer Ahmed, a seasoned, quietly wise cop played by the ever-reliable Suraj Venjaramoodu. Their dynamic is understated but powerful, offering the emotional anchor of the film.
 
But the real twist in Narivetta isn't just in plot — it's in tone. What starts as a personal story morphs into a wider, more damning commentary on power, truth, and systemic abuse. When the conflict between tribal communities and the police unfolds, the film stops being about Varghese alone and becomes a gut-punch about whose stories we believe, and who gets to tell them.
 
Cheran, making his Malayalam debut, is magnetic and unsettling as R. Keshava Das, a police officer whose moral compass seems deliberately ambiguous. He's a man you don’t want to trust, but somehow can't ignore.
 
What stands out is the respectful portrayal of the tribal community — their language, their pain, their quiet resistance. No clichés, no condescension. Just lives shown with dignity. One particular scene, reminiscent of the real-life lynching of Madhu, hits like a brick. It’s uncomfortable — as it should be.
 
Technically, Narivetta is beautifully crafted. Jakes Bejoy’s score never overpowers but lingers, like an echo in the hills. Vijay’s cinematography captures both the serenity and brutality of the landscapes, while Shameer Muhammed’s editing keeps the dual timelines crisp and coherent.
 
Is the film perfect? No. Some parts feel stretched, and the procedural elements can drag. But honestly, that’s a small price to pay for what it sets out to do.
 
In a cinematic world often obsessed with heroes and neat resolutions, Narivetta gives us something far more unsettling — a flawed man, a messy truth, and a system that thrives on silence. It doesn’t offer comfort. But it offers clarity.
 
And that makes it not just a good film, but an important one.