5 years of Moothon: Geetu Mohandas and Nivin Pauly’s film about a paradise denied to two same-sex lovers remains an unhealed wound

One of the most compelling aspects of Moothon that enriches its subject matter is the settings in which its narrative unfolds. Akbar and Ameer hail from an island in the Lakshadweep archipelago, far out in the Arabian Sea, away from the mainland. Meanwhile, another part of Akbar’s life plays out in the sprawling city of Mumbai, where those at the bottom of society are rendered invisible; and only the rich and powerful truly live, while others merely survive.

In Lakshadweep, where most of the population is Muslim and has frequently been ostracised by the mainland’s predominantly Hindu society, Akbar and Ameer discover one another and fall in love — as if their island is a paradise located away from the vile outside world which is the mainland. At the same time, Moothon also depicts Lakshadweep as a microcosm of the mainland-archipelago divide, particularly as Akbar and Ameer’s relationship is flatly rejected by those around them, further marginalising them within a community that is already marginalised by a larger society, which eventually leads to Ameer’s suicide and Akbar’s desertion of the island. This serves as a commentary on how social hierarchies exist in all settings and how the paradise — surrounded by serene blue waters, pearly beaches, coral reefs and lush landscapes — is denied to those living in it too, if they don’t conform to the prevailing norms.

Although there is beauty in the fact that the film has Muslims as central characters and that too while it deals with such a brave subject matter, the setting of this story in a region where over 93 per cent of the indigenous population identifies as Muslim is indeed Islamophobic, considering how the lovers’ lives turn out to be. While Akbar and Ameer (the victims) are Muslims, with Akbar even being a ritual dancer, those who oppose their relationship are also members of the same community and this dynamic falls into the typical trope of “good Muslim-bad Muslim” binary, also implying that a Muslim can only be seen as “good” if and only if they adhere to the standards imposed by those who are at the helm of the justification, which would indeed be those from other communities.

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As much as Moothon is about the romance between Akbar and Ameer, it is also about human beings’ yearning for belonging, illustrating that it’s not places but people who create a sense of home and happiness. The film explores this theme through the eyes and life of Mulla (Sanjana Dipu), Akbar’s little sister. Upon hearing hints that Akbar might be in Mumbai — the place where he once dreamed of building a life and family with Ameer — Mulla sets out for the city. But with little information about his whereabouts and only a faint memory of his face, she finds herself adrift, searching for a needle in a haystack. Nonetheless, Mulla, disguised as a boy, presses on, determined to find her moothon (elder brother), hoping to finally have a family that was denied to her when Akbar left the island and their mother died.

In Mumbai, Akbar’s life starkly contrasts with his former one. Our first glimpse of him in the city is at night. There is nothing ethereal or enchanting about him anymore. He now looks like a prowling monster, as if he has tampered with his real identity, erasing it completely to create a new one that even he might find frightening and repulsive. Although this is our first on-screen encounter with Akbar in the movie — with the portions set in Lakshadweep appearing as flashbacks later — in retrospect, his appearance here raises doubts as to whether he intentionally altered his looks to ensure no one else would see the beauty in him that Ameer once did. Entering his dimly lit room, he appears unsteady, likely from heavy drinking, and immediately reaches for a bong fashioned from a plastic bottle to smoke. Unaware of each other’s true identities, Akbar — now a notorious goon in Kamathipura — takes Mulla captive, intending to sell “him.”

Known until then for “chocolate boy” roles and typical alpha Malayali characters, like his George in Premam, Nivin Pauly broke new ground here. (Image: Moothon/Facebook)

“If someone chooses not to be found, then no one can track them down,” Moosa (Dileesh Pothan), Akbar’s friend, tells Mulla when she shares her wish to go to the mainland to find her moothon. Ironically, the first Malayalam dialogue we hear from Akbar is, “What did you think? I can’t find you?” as he tracks Mulla down after she escapes from his custody. The fact that he manages to locate a child in a vast city like Mumbai, despite her attempts to not be found by him, suggests that with enough determination, one can overcome even the strongest wishes of anyone else to remain hidden.

Though Akbar eventually learns Mulla is his sister, he cannot bring himself to reveal his identity as he fears not only that she would discover her moothon tried to sell her, but also that he would have to stop his self-destructive spiral and start living for her. He seeks help from acquaintances, only to be turned away. In the meantime, his associate Salim (Shashank Arora) attempts to complete the deal of selling Mulla to resolve their financial issues and cover up a failed hawala transaction.

Though Akbar lives a life of exile, punishing himself for his ‘failure’ to be there for his lover, Moothon also throws light on how one’s actions deeply affect others with or without their knowledge and/or that being their intention. As much as Geetu Mohandas breathes soul into the film, legendary filmmaker Anurag Kashyap, who co-wrote the Hindi dialogues, succeeds in capturing Mumbai’s raw and gritty landscape and nature. Sagar Desai’s music further enriches Moothon, adapting to the film’s shifting tones, from tranquil to haunting, as each moment demands.

Beyond its compelling storytelling and cinematic brilliance, Moothon stands out for Nivin’s exceptional performance. Known until then for “chocolate boy” roles and typical alpha Malayali characters, like his George in Premam (2015), Nivin broke new ground here. His nuanced portrayal of Akbar, balancing contrasting tones and complex layers, is among the finest by a Malayalam actor in recent years. Nivin captures every aspect of Akbar — from his endearing innocence and romantic spirit to the guilt, isolation and toll of substance abuse that consume him — with perfection. Sanjana’s portrayal of Mulla is also criminally underrated. Right from the start, she vividly conveys Mulla’s struggle with identity, embodying her character with careful attention to every detail.

As Rosy, a sex worker, Sobhita Dhulipala delivers one of her earliest and finest performances. While the role includes some clichés associated with sex workers, Sobhita brings depth to Rosy, portraying a woman who remains true to herself while never losing her humanity. Despite Moothon showcasing Shashank’s talent, it’s unfortunate that Indian cinema has yet to explore his full potential. His portrayal of Salim is remarkable, blending both menace and survival instincts.

While all these aspects contribute to making Moothon a landmark film, Rajeev Ravi’s cinematography and the editing by B Ajithkumar and Kiran Das deserve special commendation. In Mumbai, Rajeev’s tight framing evokes a sense of claustrophobia that mirrors Akbar’s emotional state, while in Lakshadweep, he uses wide shots to capture the archipelago’s natural beauty and the vastness of love, compassion and romance. His ability to craft stunning visuals from raw settings is evident throughout Moothon, further enhanced by the skilful editing of Ajith and Kiran.

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