Opinion The promises of ‘Lokah 1’: Feminism, a dive into local lore, and a Malayalam cinematic universe

This marks the first Indian female superhero in films and feminists have written about how the film tries to subvert the portrayal of the yakshi. She is usually depicted in films and writings as a malevolent seductress, one who uses her sexual charms to lure men to their deaths. Instead of a white sari-clad spirit out to devour men after being betrayed by the one she loved, Lokah, directed by Dominic Arun and co-written by Santhy Balachandran, reframes her as a vampiric creature with superpowers and a heart in the right place. The film puts forward its feminist politics in nuanced ways while largely sticking to the Western templates for superhero films.

Subversions, to whatever degree, ought to be appreciated. The yakshi in Lokah, played by Kalyani Priyadarshan, is beautiful and has an air of mysterious sexiness, but she is not trying to seduce anyone. She comes across almost as an introvert trying to mind her own business unless called to punish wrongdoers. Then there is the obvious inversion of the hero-saving-the-heroine trope. Naslen’s Sunny is terrified of Chandra but is drawn to her too.

Apart from this, however, her narrative arc sticks to the sequences found in most other superhero action films — confronting evil and protecting loved ones. The film, in its overall cinematic language (cinematography, editing, visual effects) triggered generalised memories of sequences from films in the Avengers or Spiderman franchises. Because of this, I did not go gaga over the film, but still enjoyed the many traces of feminist subversions littered throughout.

For instance, two female characters, who appear only in passing, are given more selfhood and agency than is usual in commercial cinema. The scene where a woman at a house party is almost frisked by cops for illegal drugs is used to build tension between Chandra and the villainous cop Nachiyappa Gowda (played by Sandy). However, instead of abandoning her as an incidental character used to move the plot along, the subsequent scene gives space for her to articulate her feelings.

In another sequence used to introduce Nachiyappa, a woman is being hounded by goons as she is walking to meet someone for a romantic rendezvous. She is clad in a white sari and leaves her hair open in the manner of the yakshi in popular imagination. But when she runs into policemen, she is subjected to patriarchal questions. A senior female cop passing along stops to enquire about the situation. While Nachiyappa tries to dismiss the issue, the woman seems to signal her distress to the female cop, who then gives her a lift. These subtle characterisations stand out as testimonies of the feminist potential of films when women are involved in writing and scripting.

But Lokah, in other ways, sticks to the tradition of Western vampire films, albeit giving it a superhero flavour. The uniqueness it brings to the table are the repackaged versions of culturally-rooted mythic figures like the yakshi, chathan, odiyan, etc. These older cultural tropes are reframed as well as mobilised to tell a modern story that would feel familiar across the globe. While the yakshi-vampire-superhero crossover might be a great way to introduce a new generation of audiences to local lores, it also leaves room for conflations of these different mythic trajectories. The yakshi in Lokah, whose name ties itself to the folklore of Kalliyankattu Neeli, is modified almost completely into a vampire of eastern European narratives: The aversion to sunlight, drinking blood to survive, seeking permission before entering rooms, etc., are vampiric traits that get superimposed on the yakshi.

Such conflations can also lead to plot questions. For instance, how did Chandra age only till a certain point? She had turned into a vampire-yakshi as a child and should stay immortal at the same age, if one goes by the lore. Also, what would explain the film narrative that only a “clean, healthy body” would be amenable to “vampirification”?

These, I suppose, are moot questions in the realm of pure imagination. Or thought trails that wind up in the annals of fan theories and social media discussion threads. With Lokah laying out the groundwork for Malayalam cinema’s very own mythic universe, there is palpable excitement and curiosity among fans about what the next chapters will unveil.

Komalam is a former journalist, currently writing her doctoral thesis on gender in Malayalam film production cultures