A Biblical title like 'Abrahaminte Santhathikal' ('Abraham's Progeny') can bring up unnecessary associations. Is this about sacrificing a most beloved person for the larger call of duty (Abraham was asked by God to sacrifice his son Isaac on the mountains). Or is all this leading to some fratricidal feud (the Cain and Abel legend in the Book of Genesis). Or is this about the faith of humans, or their lack of it (it was Abraham's faith that was tested the most by God). There was enough in what was going on in Abrahaminte Santhathikal to make one suspect these possibilities.
All of this made the film seem too trite and predictable. But just when you get the smug feeling that you had outthought the film, and had probably pulled out your mobile to watch more interesting stuff, Mammootty delightfully turns the tables with a bullet shot from his mere fingers. And mind you, he is no Rajinikanth aspirant. From then on, just leave aside your Bible and the Cross at their hallowed spot, and sit back and enjoy an exhilarating stretch of kick-in-the-butt whistle-worthy irreverence. All those philosophical questions that might have slowly accumulated into a sort of radiant flame in the viewers' mind suddenly goes poof, and what ensues is a riotous final leg that sneers royally at the movie's initial puritanism (the concerns of duty, faith and sacrifice).
Mammootty brings his amazing screen presence into full play. But this time he does more, he infuses his character with tragic depth. He sheds not a single tear in the film but one somehow gets the feeling that, like Jesus, he has taken upon himself all the troubles of the world. There is a weariness to his walk, as if some weight within him was making him stagger. But with a swept-back hair and a square jaw, and a thick moustache slightly curled at the end, his Derek Abraham has an uncanny resemblance to Josef Stalin. A kind and sad Stalin.
This Stalin is mournful, as though he had seen too much to be ever happy, and the director Shaji Padoor uses Mammootty's eyes to good effect. They are perhaps the saddest sight on Indian screens. But there are moments when the actor lights up. Sample the scene where he meets the lover of his younger brother. He is happy and relived and excited, and all of it shows beautifully. A charming Stalin.
Padoor to his credit gets his basics right. Nothing is overdone, except of course the background score which even has the iconic James Bond score embedded within its cacophony. The colours are soft, and the editing is not rushed. The cinematography is also functional, no showmanship is resorted to. Nonetheless, there are certain portions that are done without much care.
Since the focus was mainly on Mammootty's Derek Abraham, most of the other roles seem to have been underwritten (Hanif Adeni, the maker of Great Father, is the script writer). Fine actors like Siddique, Renji Panicker and the female presence, Kaniha, seemed like whiling away their time. One also gets the feeling that an actor with more depth should have played Mammootty's brother. He gets an almost equal billing with the 'megastar'. Anson Paul looked right for the role, but he did not have the acting chops to match. Kalabhavan Shajon but was a strange presence, he somehow keeps the intrigue going.
Rating: 3.5/5
