Aashaan’ movie review: Indrans anchors an intimate, self-aware film about cinema and its discontents

Filmmaker Johnpaul George, known for ‘Guppy’ and ‘Ambili,’ turns his gaze inward with ‘Aashaan.’ This is an experimental work that both celebrates and questions the act of filmmaking. It is set almost entirely within a residential complex where a film crew arrives to shoot. The film examines ego, aspiration, and frustration, which are all familiar Johnpaul concerns.
Conceived largely as a single-location drama, ‘Aashaan unfolds’ inside a 21-storey apartment complex shaped like a well. The space becomes both stage and pressure cooker. Everyday sounds (a whirring mixer, a neighbour’s laboured breathing, casual chatter echoing across balconies) are woven into the film’s rhythm. And, it often generates humour while also underscoring how fragile the process of filmmaking can be when constrained by space, time, and money. The film never romanticises these limitations and chooses instead to treat them with a wry honesty.

Conflict is foregrounded early on through the character of the film’s harried director, played with abrasive conviction by Shobhy Thilakan. Burdened by debt and the anxiety of past failures, he is caught between an exacting star, logistical chaos, and his own wounded pride. The film-within-a-film structure allows Johnpaul to observe these tensions with a mix of satire and empathy.

At the emotional centre is ‘Aashaan,’ portrayed by Indrans. He is a former martial artist and long-time resident who harbours a quiet dream of becoming an actor. The neighbourhood rallies around him and invests in his possible break with collective hope. As the shoot progresses, however, the film keeps returning to an uneasy question: in an industry built on hierarchy and compromise, does someone like Aashaan ever truly get his moment?
Unlike recent Malayalam films that approach cinema from a nostalgic or celebratory distance, ‘Aashaan’ is more restless. While its self-reflexive structure recalls ‘Nadikar,’ Johnpaul pushes further into experimental territory. Midway through, the narrative veers into darker, emotionally charged terrain. Therein, the film sees a  revenge-inflected arc that adds weight but unsettles the larger tonal balance.
Indrans is the film’s quiet triumph. It has been a while since the actor has been given such textured material. As expected, he responds with a performance that blends his familiar physical expressiveness with deep and contained emotion. Joemon Jyothir is equally compelling as an assistant director torn between on-set survival and personal ambition.
Johnpaul also makes his debut as a music composer and contributes to a restrained, evocative score. The song ‘Kunjikkavil Meghame,’ sung by Sooraj Santhosh with lyrics by Vinayak Sasikumar, stands out for its lyrical intimacy. Vimal Jose Thachil’s cinematography, however, is the film’s most striking technical achievement. His carefully composed frames give visual coherence to a dense, layered narrative. It turns confined spaces into expressive cinematic environments.
‘Aashaan’ may not always maintain tonal consistency. However, its willingness to interrogate cinema and at the same time surrendering to its allure makes it a thoughtful, risk-taking work. It is also a reminder of what can happen when an actor like Indrans is placed at the heart of an honest experiment.