‘Drishyam 3’ and the Chekhov’s gun factor: What changed between the Malayalam and Hindi films

It has been nearly 13 years since Jeethu Joseph's 'Drishyam' first arrived in Malayalam cinema. In all these years, the film's central crime, its elaborate cover-up and Georgekutty's ability to stay several steps ahead of the police have been discussed endlessly. But there is another reason the first film worked so well as a thriller: it knew exactly how to make seemingly ordinary details matter.

This is where Chekhov's gun comes in. Chekhov's gun is a storytelling technique in which a seemingly insignificant detail introduced early in a story becomes important later. The idea is simple: if a filmmaker takes the trouble to show the audience something, there is often a reason for it. In a thriller, the device can be particularly effective because the audience is constantly collecting information. A detail that appears irrelevant can sit quietly in the viewer's memory until the story eventually returns to it.

The clever part is that the audience is not necessarily being kept in the dark. The information can be right in front of them. What is hidden is its significance. When the payoff arrives, the viewer can look back and realise that the film had already shown them the answer.

That is one of the pleasures of watching the first 'Drishyam'. The film does not simply hide its solution and then reveal it at the end. It leaves pieces of the solution in plain sight.
Take the under-construction police station. It is introduced as part of the film's setting, something the audience can register without necessarily assigning much importance to it. But by the third act, the location becomes crucial. Georgekutty has used the construction site to conceal the truth, and the revelation works precisely because the audience has already seen the place.

The surprise, therefore, is not merely that the police discover something unexpected. It is that the film had already shown us the place where Georgekutty had taken his biggest precaution. Even Georgekutty's obsession with films works in a similar way. His habit of watching movies and remembering their plots initially feels like a character trait, helping establish who he is and what he enjoys. Later, however, that knowledge becomes part of how he constructs his defence. His familiarity with crime stories and films gives him ideas about how to build an alibi and anticipate an investigation.

That is what makes the first 'Drishyam' so satisfying. The audience is not simply waiting for a twist. It is unknowingly being trained to pay attention to details that may acquire a different meaning later.
And the technique became part of the larger identity of the franchise.

The first two Hindi 'Drishyam' films largely followed the stories established by their Malayalam counterparts. So the more revealing comparison comes with the third instalments. This is where Jeethu Joseph and Abhishek Pathak take their respective franchises in different directions.

The Malayalam 'Drishyam 3' does not approach the story as another tightly constructed suspense puzzle in the same way. Jeethu Joseph shifts the emphasis towards the emotional consequences of everything Georgekutty and his family have lived through. Reviews of the film noted this change, with the third instalment spending more time with Georgekutty's vulnerability and the family's lingering fear than the earlier films' elaborate games of misdirection.

That change also affects Georgekutty himself. In the first two films, Georgekutty's defining quality was his ability to anticipate what could happen next. He was constantly preparing for another possibility, another question, another attempt by the police to break his story. He was not necessarily more powerful than the people investigating him. He was simply thinking ahead of them.

In the third film, that image is deliberately unsettled. Georgekutty makes mistakes. He is more vulnerable and, at times, less certain. That is a human change for the character, but it also changes what the audience expects from a 'Drishyam' thriller. The earlier films trained viewers to look for the next move in Georgekutty's plan. The third film is less interested in repeating that formula.

The Hindi 'Drishyam 3', meanwhile, stays closer to the thriller machinery audiences have come to associate with the franchise. Vijay Salgaonkar, played by Ajay Devgn, remains intensely alert to the possibility of the law catching up with him. The film introduces Jaideep Ahlawat as SP Crime Branch Rajveer Singh Tomar, a new investigator who puts pressure on Vijay and his family. The addition gives the film a fresh opponent without fundamentally changing the central game: Vijay is still trying to stay ahead of an investigation.

That distinction matters. The Hindi film does not necessarily have more complicated twists than the Malayalam film. Its appeal comes partly from the familiarity of its construction. The audience knows what kind of film it is watching and knows that apparently ordinary details are likely to return later.

That is where the Chekhov's-gun principle becomes useful again. When an object, piece of information or seemingly minor event is introduced in the first act and eventually becomes important in the third, the audience gets the particular satisfaction of recognising the connection. It is not simply a surprise. It is a confirmation that the film was playing fair with them.

And that may be one reason some viewers have responded more favourably to the Hindi third instalment than to the Malayalam one. It gives them the familiar pleasure of watching Vijay work his way through a problem while also allowing the film to plant information for later use.

This is not an argument that the Hindi 'Drishyam 3' is necessarily a better film than the Malayalam one. The two films are taking noticeably different approaches, and deciding which works better is ultimately a matter of interpretation. The Malayalam film is more interested in what Georgekutty has become after years of living with the secret. The Hindi film is more invested in the mechanics of keeping Vijay one step ahead.

But that difference becomes particularly interesting when the first two films are considered. The original 'Drishyam' was not memorable only because of its final revelation. It was memorable because the revelation made earlier details fall into place. The audience could look back at the film and realise that the clues were not hidden at all. They had simply been disguised as ordinary pieces of the story.
That is the real power of Chekhov's gun. The best use of it does not make the audience feel cheated. It makes them feel that they should have seen it coming.