'Eko' Review: Dinjith Ayyathan delivers a fog-soaked, fierce look at the man–dog bond

Dog stories usually come with a certain softness. Warmth, loyalty, a sense of home. But Dinjith Ayyathan’s ‘Eko’ walks into that territory with muddy boots and a completely different mood. After the wildly successful ‘Kishkindha Kaandam’, Dinjith returns with another film set deep in Kerala’s greenery, although this time the bond between man and dog is anything but comforting. It is fierce, unsettling, and strangely moving.

The film opens in Wayanad’s hills, the kind of place where mist just sits on the roads and refuses to leave. It immediately sets the tone. This is not a place where people come looking for peace. This is a place where people hide, watch, and wait. At the centre of that silence is Kuriachan, a man you hear about long before you see him. In fact, half the thrill of ‘Eko’ is how Dinjith keeps peeling back layers of this man. Some call him an outlaw. Some say he is a protector. Everyone agrees he loves dogs more than people.

Up on a lonely hill sits Kuriachan’s house, where his wife Mlathi lives with Peyoos, the caretaker who watches over the place with almost unnatural alertness. The pack of dogs they look after is not the friendly kind you meet on walking trails. These animals snarl, listen to commands like they are vows, and carry an intensity that makes you constantly wonder how they were raised. Dinjith keeps that question alive for a long time, letting it simmer until the right moment.

The film ropes in a solid supporting cast with Narain, Vineeth, Ashokan, and Binu Pappu, all of whom add small but necessary threads to the mystery around Kuriachan. A number of people are hunting for him, but no one clearly says why. It’s almost like the film wants you to feel the same frustration the characters feel. You know something is off, but the story refuses to spill too much too early.

And honestly, that is the charm of ‘Eko’. It doesn’t rush. It takes its time building its own rhythm. The first half wanders a bit, almost teasing you with vague hints and slow-burn scenes. The conflict doesn’t show up until the interval, which can feel slightly disorienting, but once the second half starts, everything clicks into place. The movie becomes tighter, the questions sharper, and the pace suddenly picks up.

A major reason the film works is its setting. Bahul Ramesh’s cinematography practically pulls you into the hills. The frames feel cold, damp, and alive. There are sequences where the fog becomes a curtain that the characters walk in and out of, and it adds so much to the mood of the story. Bahul also co-writes the film, and you can see how the visuals and writing are constantly feeding each other. He doesn’t throw cheap clues around. Instead, he keeps the audience guessing with smart misdirections.

Mlathi, played beautifully by Biana Momin, is one of the film’s most interesting characters. She is a Malayan woman Kuriachan once brought from Malaysia and later married. Through her eyes, we finally get glimpses of who Kuriachan used to be. Her flashback scenes are short but absolutely essential. Biana brings a lot of warmth to a film that could have easily slipped into only darkness.

The performances overall are strong, but Sandeep Pradeep deserves special mention as Peyoos. There is a rawness in the way he moves, especially in the fight sequences, that almost mirrors the animals he lives with. Some scenes blur the line between man and beast so subtly that it stays with you long after.

What ‘Eko’ ultimately tries to say is quite simple. There is a difference between guarding someone and trapping them. Dogs love without strategy, but humans always think three steps ahead. Dinjith uses this idea quietly, looping it into the thriller without making it preachy.

The climax lands with force. It is emotional, tense, and finally gives weight to everything the film was building towards. It ties the movie together in a way that makes the slow beginning feel worth it.

In the end, ‘Eko’ is not a standard thriller. It feels more like a long walk through a foggy forest where every turn reveals something new. It is moody, atmospheric, unpredictable, and strangely tender. If you surrender to its pace, the film rewards you with a story that lingers long after the screen goes dark.