L2 EMPURAAN MOVIE REVIEW
Cast: Mohanlal, Prithviraj Sukumaran, Manju Warrier, Tovino Thomas, Abhimanyu Singh, Indrajith Sukumaran, Suraj Venjaramoodu, Jerome Flynn, Fazil, Baiju Santhosh, Saniya Iyappan, Murugan Martin
Director: Prithviraj Sukumaran
Rating: 3/5
So, Empuraan, the much-hyped behemoth sequel to Lucifer, has landed. Did it conquer? Well, let’s just say it sprawled. Clocking in at nearly three hours, this pan-Indian spectacle from Prithviraj Sukumaran certainly brings the visual thunder, but somewhere amidst the globe-trotting, explosions, and endless stylish strides, it forgets to pack a compelling story. Think of it as a really, really expensive screensaver featuring Mohanlal looking intensely into the middle distance… in slow motion. Again.
The film kicks off grimly, not in some ancient past, but with a brutal, modern-day village raid that feels less like setting a terrifying villainous tone and more like a grimdark showreel designed to shock. We’re briefly introduced to the supposed big bad, Balraj Patel/Baba Bajrangi (Abhimanyu Singh), linked to past atrocities and now a menacing Hindutva political figure. This setup, involving young Zayed Masood’s (Prithviraj) tragic past during the 2002 Gujarat violence, promises high stakes. But then… the plot jet-sets around, dipping into international crime syndicates, Interpol operations, and back to Kerala politics where CM Jathin Ramdas (Tovino Thomas) is buddying up with the very forces that threaten the state’s fabric. It’s ambitious, sure, spanning continents and conspiracies, but mostly feels like a sprawling mess trying to juggle too many flaming torches.
And at the center, or rather, slightly off-center due to his delayed grand entrance (almost an hour in!), is Khureshi Ab’raam/Stephen Nedumpally, played by the legend Mohanlal. The man is presence personified, commanding the screen effortlessly. The problem? He’s been slow-motioned into oblivion. Seriously, almost every single appearance feels like a meticulously crafted intro or outro montage set to a throbbing score. It’s less character and more walking, talking (well, mostly glaring) motivational poster. You never worry when he’s on screen because he’s presented as utterly infallible, a perfectly coiffed force of nature who always wins. While visually impressive at times – one shot with fire framing him like devil horns is admittedly cool – the relentless, repetitive slo-mo robs the performance of any real dynamism or vulnerability.
The script, frankly, doesn’t help. Characters often feel like plastic pawns moving across a very large, very expensive chessboard. They talk at each other, posture, and engage in power plays, but few feel genuinely witty or interesting in their own right. Manju Warrier’s Priyadarshini gets moments to shine and seemingly sets up a stronger arc for the future, but even her big speech scene descends into baffling chaos where she just… sits there amidst gunfire and Molotov cocktails like it’s mild indigestion. Run, lady, run! It’s moments like these, aiming for masala thrills, that just come off as unintentionally dumb.
Technically, Empuraan is undeniably a beast. The cinematography is often stunning, capturing vast landscapes and orchestrating complex sequences with a slickness rarely seen. Prithviraj clearly knows how to marshal huge resources to create spectacle. There are sprawling moments that genuinely impress with their scale. But all the CGI, exotic locations, and slow-motion grandeur can’t mask a core hollowness. Content is king, remember? A well-made film needs more than just technical gloss; it needs a script that grips, characters that breathe, and a story that justifies its epic runtime. Empuraan, despite its visual richness, often feels emotionally vacant and narratively predictable.
Is it a disaster? No. It’s a visually grand, technically polished, but ultimately rather tiresome and soulless affair that mistakes style for substance and relentless slow-motion for genuine impact. It sets up a third part, but based on this outing, my enthusiasm is, shall we say, moving at regular speed. For the sheer spectacle and Mohanlal’s undeniable star power (even in slo-mo), it scrapes by. But engaging? Memorable? Not so much.