The film draws from the 2003 Muthanga incident in Kerala, where Adivasi communities were protesting the government’s broken promise to provide them land. What should have been a peaceful demonstration for basic rights turned into a violent confrontation that left deep scars.
There’s a moment in Narivetta where you watch a police officer slowly realize he’s been part of something horrific. It’s uncomfortable, gut-wrenching, and absolutely necessary. This 2025 Malayalam film doesn’t just tell a story- it forces you to look at truths we’d rather ignore.
Narivetta (meaning “Jackal Hunt”—a title that becomes painfully relevant) follows Varghese Peter, played by Tovino Thomas, a young man who joins the police force not out of some noble calling, but because he needs a job. He’s relatable in his ordinariness: frustrated with his circumstances, living with his mother, depending on his girlfriend Nancy for financial support. He’s us, in other words-flawed, a bit self-absorbed, just trying to get by.
But then the system he’s part of does something unforgivable.
The Story That Mirrors Our Reality
The film draws from the 2003 Muthanga incident in Kerala, where Adivasi communities were protesting the government’s broken promise to provide them land. What should have been a peaceful demonstration for basic rights turned into a violent confrontation that left deep scars. Director Anuraj Manohar and writer Abin Joseph don’t shy away from showing us how quickly the state can turn protesters into “terrorists” when it suits their narrative.
Watching Narivetta, you can’t help but think about what’s happening in places like Chhattisgarh today. The same playbook: label tribal communities as Maoist sympathizers, justify brutal crackdowns, and silence anyone who questions the system. It’s a pattern that repeats across India, and the film makes these connections impossible to ignore.
When Good People Face Impossible Choices
Tovino Thomas delivers what might be his most powerful performance yet as Varghese. You watch him transform from someone who just wants to keep his head down and collect his paycheck to someone who can’t stay silent anymore. That transformation doesn’t happen overnight—it’s messy, painful, and human.
The turning point comes when his mentor, Head Constable Basheer Ahmed (Suraj Venjaramoodu in a heartbreaking role), is murdered in a cover-up. The blame is pinned on the tribal protesters to justify even more violence. Suddenly, Varghese realizes he’s not just witnessing injustice—he’s complicit in it.
Suraj Venjaramoodu brings such warmth and integrity to Basheer that his death hits like a physical blow. He represents the kind of officer we wish all police could be—someone who sees the humanity in everyone, even when the system demands otherwise.
The Voices That Matter Most
Arya Salim’s portrayal of CK Shanthi, the tribal leader modeled after real-life activist CK Janu, is quietly powerful. She doesn’t need to raise her voice to command attention—her presence alone speaks to decades of struggle and resilience. It’s a performance that honors the real women who’ve fought for their communities’ rights.
But here’s where the film stumbles a bit. While Tovino’s journey is compelling, focusing so heavily on his awakening sometimes pushes the tribal voices to the background. These communities’ stories deserve to be front and center, not filtered through someone else’s realization of injustice.
Narivetta doesn’t sanitize violence. There are scenes that will make you flinch—elderly people being beaten, women dragged away, even a dog set on fire. It’s brutal, but it’s supposed to be. The film refuses to let us look away from what happens when the state decides certain lives don’t matter.
One viewer on social media mentioned being shaken by the dog’s death scene, and that’s exactly the point. If we’re moved by an animal’s suffering, shouldn’t we be equally moved by what happens to human beings?
Strength and Weakness
The film’s first half can feel sluggish, spending too much time on Varghese’s personal life and romance. While this helps us understand his character, it comes at the cost of developing the tribal characters beyond CK Shanthi and a young activist named Thaami.
The non-linear storytelling, while ambitious, sometimes feels muddled. And yes, there are minor anachronisms-modern cars in a 2003 setting-that slightly break the immersion.
But when Narivetta hits its stride, particularly in the second half, it’s devastating. The cinematography by Vijay captures both the beauty of Kerala’s landscapes and the ugliness of human cruelty. Jakes Bejoy’s music, especially the protest anthem Vaada Veda, amplifies the emotional weight without being manipulative.
Why This Matters Now
Narivetta arrived at a time when reports of encounters in Chhattisgarh were making headlines. The film’s relevance isn’t just historical-it’s immediate. It asks uncomfortable questions: How do we justify violence against the marginalized? When does maintaining order become maintaining oppression?
The film opens with a quote from Milan Kundera: “The struggle of man against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting.” In an age of short attention spans and endless news cycles, Narivetta serves as a reminder that some stories can’t be allowed to fade away.
Narivetta isn’t perfect, but it’s brave. It’s the kind of film that stays with you long after the credits roll, making you question systems you might have taken for granted. Tovino Thomas gives a performance that reminds us why Malayalam cinema continues to push boundaries, while the supporting cast brings depth to what could have been a simple good-versus-evil story.
At ₹5.20 crore in its opening weekend, Narivetta proved that audiences are hungry for meaningful cinema. Now streaming on SonyLIV , it’s a film that deserves to be seen, not just for its technical merits, but for its urgent message about justice, memory, and the cost of silence.
The Muthanga incident
The Muthanga incident of February 19, 2003, was a tragic culmination of broken promises to Kerala’s Adivasi communities. In 2001, Chief Minister AK Anthony had promised to give 5 acres of land to each Adivasi family, but the agreement stipulated that land distribution would commence on January 1, 2002 and be completed on December 31, 2002. When the government failed to honor this commitment, around 617 families set up their tents in Muthanga forest as a sign of protest under the leadership of the Adivasi Gothra Maha Sabha (AGMS), led by activists like CK Janu and M. Geethanandan.
The struggle which lasted only 44 days was suppressed brutally by the Kerala government on 19 February as the police fired 18 rounds at the protesters resulting in two fatalities and hundreds of adivasis suffering serious injuries. Instead of engaging in any forms of negotiation with the Adivasis, the police resorted to violence and forced to drive the Adivasis away from Muthanga, marking the first time in the history of Kerala that the Adivasis became the target of police firing and brutality which resulted in deaths and destruction. The incident became a watershed moment in Kerala’s tribal rights movement, exposing the state’s willingness to use violence against marginalized communities demanding their constitutional rights.
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