May 24, 5: In Narivetta (Jackal Hunt), director Anuraj Manohar sets out to tackle a loaded subject: systemic oppression, tribal resistance, and the moral decay of state machinery. But the question that lingers after the end credits roll is this: Whose story are we really watching?
Inspired by the 2003 Muthanga incident, Narivetta is positioned as a brutal, semi-fictionalised retelling of how the state responds when the most neglected communities demand what is legally theirs. The film opens with a haunting chase scene — a cop hunting down a fellow officer — only to later reveal a broader hunt: the state’s relentless crackdown on Adivasi voices.
The emotional intensity is undeniable. The film jolts you, sometimes shocks you. But as it unpacks one of the most shameful chapters in modern Kerala’s socio-political history, it falters by not giving the mic to the very people it claims to speak for.
At the heart of Narivetta is Varghese Peter, played by Tovino Thomas — a disillusioned young man reluctantly pushed into the police force. His character arc takes him from a self-important, angry recruit to a conscience-ridden man haunted by what he sees and enables.
And Tovino delivers. He broods, he shouts, he questions — but much of it feels designed to elicit sympathy for a man complicit in silencing resistance. We spend too much time trying to understand his bruised ego and family dynamics, while the tribal community — whose cause the film is supposedly championing — remains in the background, barely sketched in.
Arya Salim as activist CK Shanthi (a clear nod to CK Janu) is electrifying. She owns every frame she’s in. But the script sidelines her in favour of a more “palatable” narrative — one where the oppressor’s redemption is somehow more important than the oppressed’s humanity.
Narivetta Review: Where It Hits Hard, And Where It Hurts Itself
The cinematography by Vijay captures the contrast between state power and forest resistance with sharp clarity. There are some scenes — a burning hut, a crushed grandmother, a silent child clutching his sibling’s hand — that stay with you long after. The haunting score by Jakes Bejoy elevates these moments to near-documentary realism.
But Narivetta also slips into familiar traps. By failing to individualize most tribal characters, it unintentionally replicates the invisibilisation it aims to critique. Aside from two or three named roles, the Adivasi community remains anonymous, voiceless, and only fully visible when being brutalized. That’s not just a missed opportunity — it’s a moral contradiction.
The screenplay also loses its grip in the second half, where it turns into a conventional cop drama, complete with love interest subplots and whistleblower tropes. The heavy-handed dialogues often undermine the film’s more subtle, haunting visual cues. And the character development, especially for Varghese, lacks emotional finesse — he’s supposed to be torn, but at times, his transformation feels too tidy for a story this complex.
To Watch or Not to Watch?
Yes — for its bravery in theme, technical excellence, and a few unforgettable performances.
No — if you’re expecting a story told from the heart of the struggle, rather than from the outside looking in.
Narivetta is important cinema. It reflects where Indian mainstream storytelling stands in its journey to centre the voices of the historically silenced. It also serves as a reminder of how far we still have to go in telling those stories with integrity.
Final Verdict: ★★★☆☆
A powerful message told with craft, but from the wrong lens.
