"Amma, what is our new story?" asks the boy. It is a question that gets asked throughout Balan, Chidambaram's slow-burning mystery, written by Jithu Madhavan.

The boy asks because every few months, he has a new name, a new town, and a new life. His mother keeps moving him from place to place, constantly changing identities as they try to stay ahead of a past that refuses to leave them alone. One day, however, they are separated. The film then follows the boy's long journey as he tries to find his way back to her.

One of Balan's biggest strengths is how naturally it handles the passage of time. Years pass, people change, and lives move in different directions, yet the film never loses sight of the emotional bond at its centre. We feel the uncertainty of these characters because they never seem to belong anywhere for long. Every time they begin to settle, another move becomes necessary.

Jithu Madhavan's screenplay does not directly tell us how a childhood filled with fear and instability affects a person. Instead, it lets us see it in the boy's choices, behaviour, and relationships. The writing is full of small details that gain meaning later. A bedtime story, a casual conversation, or a seemingly minor character can return much later with surprising meaning.

The film is also filled with memorable characters, from a bedridden grandmother with a trigger-happy streak to a policeman who becomes one of the story's most compelling figures.

The performances are excellent throughout. Adhiseshan delivers a deeply affecting performance as the younger version of the boy, while Mohammed Sinan is equally impressive as his older self.

Farsana Palathingal brings resilience and heartbreak to the role of the mother. Jean Paul Lal is outstanding as Pavithran, and Tovino Thomas makes the most of a relatively short role, delivering some of his strongest work in recent years.

The technical work is equally impressive. Shyju Khalid's cinematography shows different periods with ease, Vivek Harshan's editing keeps the narrative flowing smoothly and Sushin Shyam's score knows exactly when to stay in the background and when to heighten the emotion of a scene.

(Spoiler Warning: The next section contains discussion of key plot developments from the final act of Balan. Readers who have not seen the film may wish to skip ahead to the concluding paragraphs.)

My biggest reservation comes from the film's final stretch. The climactic twist left me with a few doubts. Once the police interrogate the disturbed woman used as the decoy, it feels inevitable that they would discover someone else was involved. The grandmother's son has also spoken to the real house help multiple times, making the deception harder to accept.

I had a similar issue with Tovino Thomas' character. The film establishes that local police know him by name, villagers know who he is, and the police even have his photograph. Yet he manages to stay hidden in the same area for years. The convenience of that setup is difficult to ignore.

Still, there is so much else to admire. These are the kind of questions that make you replay scenes afterwards and wonder if you missed something. Maybe the answers are hidden somewhere in the screenplay or they will become part of the discussions that follow the film.

What stays with me most is the confidence in filmmaking. Few filmmakers can handle a story spread across decades and multiple identities with this level of control . Whether every plot point works or not, Balan is a benchmark in filmmaking craft.

A reminder of how ambitious, emotionally layered, and technically accomplished mainstream Malayalam cinema can be.

Rating: (4/5)