From Rohan in ‘Dies Irae’ to Luke P P in ‘Maranamass’: Movie characters of 2025 who set off alarm bells

2025 was a generous year for Malayalam cinema. We got memorable performances, confident storytelling, and characters who lingered long after the theatre lights came on. While much of the conversation rightly revolved around layered heroes and sharply written villains, another set of characters quietly slipped past without much scrutiny.

These were not villains in the conventional sense. They were not meant to be disliked, and in some cases were clearly positioned as sympathetic, charming, or even heroic. Yet, if you pause and look a little closer, their behaviour starts to feel slightly off.

These are not outright antagonists or criminals. They are men the films gently nudge us to root for, forgive, or emotionally invest in. That is what makes them worth talking about. Not because they are deeply flawed, since flaws make characters interesting, but because their red flags are often softened, excused, or neatly brushed aside by the story itself.
So here are five such characters from 2025 who might deserve a second look.

Rohan in 'Dies Irae': Guilt does not equal growth
Pranav Mohanlal’s Rohan is trapped in a classic horror setup — haunted by the ghost of his girlfriend Kani and a creepy stalker. The film positions him as a man caught in circumstances beyond his control, but if you look past the scares, his behaviour raises eyebrows. Rohan shows little concern for Kani while she is alive. His attention and worry come only after death and danger enter the picture. His visits to her home are driven more by guilt and self-interest than empathy. Even his attempts to compensate Kani’s brother with money feel more like a quick fix than genuine remorse. Rohan’s panic keeps the story moving, but it is worth noting that fear does not automatically make someone a hero.

Suku in 'Painkili': The pick-me spiral
Sajin Gopu’s Suku is written as a man going through emotional turmoil. He is vulnerable, conflicted, and heartbreakingly human. But his choices are messy. He ignores the woman who genuinely cares for him while chasing Sheeba, who clearly does not reciprocate his feelings. When she uses him to escape her arranged marriage, he interprets it as affection. His reactions swing between pleading, begging, and even threats. The story frames this as heartbreak, but it is also a reminder that attachment does not justify coercion. Once Suku realises Sheeba will not change, he turns toward the woman who always loved him. His arc is convenient for the plot, more about emotional reset than genuine growth.

Luke P P in 'Maranamass': Charm cannot cover control
Basil Joseph’s Luke is one of the most entertaining characters of 2025 — witty, unpredictable, and larger than life. But underneath the humour lies a character who struggles with rejection. When Jessy breaks up with him, Luke’s reactions are extreme: stalking, repeated confrontations, and even intercepting her bus. The film plays most of this for laughs, which makes it easier to forgive. Yet it is a subtle reminder that comedy can sometimes soften uncomfortable behaviour. Luke eventually performs a heroic act against a dangerous antagonist, but one heroic moment does not erase earlier emotional intimidation.

Sandeep in 'Hridayapoorvam': When emotional boundaries blur
Mohanlal’s Sandeep is portrayed with warmth and tenderness. Recovering from a heart transplant, he forms emotional bonds with Haritha and her mother, both drawn to him through grief and connection. The story treats these connections with care, but there is an underlying unease as his feelings slip toward romance. The film presents him as kind and compassionate, yet it leaves the ethical questions largely unexamined. Sandeep’s final integration into the family is framed as healing, but it quietly sidesteps the emotional and moral ambiguities that precede it.

Banu Prakash in 'Vala': The danger of enabling
Lukman’s Banu Prakash is gentle, patient, and devoted; the kind of partner audiences are meant to admire. Yet his devotion veers into enabling when his wife becomes obsessed with a bangle. Banu oscillates between indulging her fixation and gently pushing back, never drawing a firm line. The film positions him as a moral counterbalance to outright villains, but his passivity quietly fuels the problem he seems to oppose. Banu’s misstep is subtle, but it resonates: love and support are valuable, but they should not come at the cost of reason or boundaries.