Eko - A Sensory Thriller

Eko

Malayalam - Drama / Thriller
125 mins
Netflix

Malayalam cinema closed 2025 by once again raising the bar, with Eko emerging as an audacious, deeply atmospheric thriller-drama. Reuniting the team behind the superb Kishkinda Kaandam, writer-director-cinematographer Bahul Ramesh and director Dinjith Ayyathan once again lean into what can best be described as sensory cinema.

On the surface, Eko appears deceptively straightforward. Malaathi, a woman of Malaysian descent, lives a life of solitude in the high-altitude forests of Kerala. Her only human contact is Peeyos, her young caretaker, along with a group of pet dogs.

Kuriachan, a renowned dog breeder, had once travelled to Malaysia during the Second World War with his friend Mohan to study a native breed. Circumstances force Kuriachan into marrying Malaathi, and that union brings her to Kerala. 

In the present day, Kuriachan has not been seen for a while, with several people looking for him for different reasons. Mohan arrives in town searching for his old friend, only to be reported missing. He brings along a female husky to breed with Kuriachan's dogs. An ex-Navy man follows, ostensibly to investigate Kuriachan.

Who exactly is Kuriachan? Is he alive? What role do the dogs truly play in this narrative?

These are not questions the film answers easily or quickly. The layered narrative, exploring opposing ends of themes such as loyalty and protection.

The hills, forests, and dogs are active participants in the storytelling of Eko.

The background score by Mujeeb Majeed—once again tinged with faint homages to Hans Zimmer—works in tandem with Bahul Ramesh’s outstanding cinematography. Wide frames that dwarf human presence and intimate, almost invasive close-ups arrest the viewer. The result feels startlingly international in ambition and execution, a film that could comfortably sit within a global festival circuit without diluting its cultural specificity.

Sandeep Pradeep as Peeyos, often associated with lighter roles, delivers a controlled and layered performance. There is a particularly striking moment during a confrontation where the action pauses, motivations surface, and the character quietly redefines himself.

Biana Momin plays Malaathi with an understated melancholy, capturing both loneliness and resilience. Her character and performance are the emotional core of the film.

Saurabh Sachdeva is terribly miscast as the enigmatic Kuriachan. 

Eko demands attention. It refuses spoon-feeding and insists that the audience read between glances, silences, and subtle shifts in behaviour. While this intellectual trust is admirable, to me it becomes the film’s most divisive choice.

The much-discussed final shot, a masterclass no doubt, left me slightly conflicted. A firmer reveal could have offered greater emotional closure without compromising thematic complexity. Kishkinda Kaandam concluded with clarity and finality, it's ending landing like a bulldozer made it more emotional. By comparison, Eko chooses a lingering, haunting ambiguity.

Personally, I prefer not having to scour the internet for interpretations after the credits roll, so it is always welcome when a film offers closure, though that is purely a personal preference.

Eko is immersive, demanding, and occasionally withholding. It is crafted by makers who have  immense conviction and confidence in both storytelling and technical finesse. The film offers a richly textured cinematic experience—one that reinforces why Malayalam cinema continues to be among the most creatively fearless industries in the country.

A great start to 2026.