By T N Ashok
Hollywood has conditioned audiences to expect diminishing returns from franchises. The first film dazzles, the second tries to outdo it, and by the third the series usually runs out of ideas. Jeethu Joseph’s Drishyam trilogy breaks that rule with remarkable confidence. If anything, Drishyam 3 demonstrates that a sequel need not merely repeat a successful formula; it can reinvent itself while remaining faithful to the world audiences have invested in for over a decade.
That is no small achievement. The original Drishyam (2013) was a masterclass in suspense. It revolved around a simple but irresistible question: How will Georgekutty escape the police after committing what appears to be the perfect crime to save his family? Every scene tightened the noose around him, while every move he made revealed another layer of his extraordinary intelligence.
Drishyam 2 cleverly changed the game. The question was no longer whether Georgekutty would survive, but how he would outwit investigators who had learnt from their earlier mistakes. Jeethu Joseph expanded the narrative without betraying the emotional core of the first film, proving that Georgekutty’s greatest weapon was never brute force but his ability to stay several moves ahead.
With Drishyam 3, Joseph refuses to recycle either of those blueprints. Instead of another police investigation, he returns to the emotional wreckage left behind by the original crime. Years may have passed, but the scars remain. The mother of the missing Varun lives under the crushing weight of grief and depression, while her husband refuses to accept that justice has slipped beyond his reach. Rather than relying on official investigations alone, he engineers an elaborate conspiracy designed to trap Georgekutty once and for all.
That single narrative decision transforms the film. This is no longer merely a police procedural. It becomes a psychological duel between two families imprisoned by the same tragedy. Georgekutty senses that invisible forces are gathering against him long before anyone else does, and what follows is another battle of intelligence where every conversation, every silence and every seemingly insignificant event could carry dangerous consequences.
The screenplay is where Jeethu Joseph once again demonstrates why he remains one of India’s finest thriller writers. He understands that suspense is not created by endless twists but by carefully managing what the audience knows, suspects and assumes. Throughout the film he plants clues that appear harmless before acquiring devastating significance later.
Unlike many thrillers that mistake confusion for complexity, Drishyam 3 remains remarkably disciplined. There are surprises, certainly, but they emerge organically from character behaviour rather than arbitrary plot manipulation. Every revelation feels earned.
Joseph also deserves credit for resisting the temptation to simply imitate the first two films. The structure here is entirely different. The pace is slower initially, allowing viewers to revisit familiar characters whose lives have evolved since the earlier films. Once the conspiracy begins taking shape, however, the screenplay tightens with relentless precision. Then JJ keeps you glued to your seat , fastens your seat belts, because action is about to explode or rather implode in a way you never expected.
The finer print is the use of reverse flashbacks to totally confuse you as to what exactly is happening — a tested and proven auteur technique used by great masters of cinema which JJ repeats to perfection. You are guessing all the time until the climax unravels.
The film’s greatest strength lies in its confidence. It never feels desperate to top the previous instalments with increasingly outrageous twists. Instead, it trusts its characters and its writing.
At the centre stands Mohanlal, once again delivering one of the finest performances of his later career. Georgekutty has changed with age. He is wealthier, more influential and outwardly successful, yet the burden of carrying one terrible secret continues to shape every decision he makes. Mohanlal avoids theatrical heroics, choosing instead a restrained performance where a fleeting expression or momentary hesitation often communicates more than pages of dialogue.
His Georgekutty remains frightening precisely because he appears so ordinary. Meena once again brings warmth and quiet anxiety to Rani, whose life has never truly escaped the consequences of that fateful night. She remains the emotional anchor of the family, constantly reminding viewers that Georgekutty’s brilliant plans always come at an enormous psychological cost.
The two daughters have matured both as characters and performers. Their roles are no longer confined to merely being victims requiring protection. They carry visible emotional scars, reflecting how trauma refuses to disappear simply because time has passed. Their performances lend authenticity to a family still struggling to live normally despite extraordinary circumstances.
Among the returning cast, Kalabhavan Shajohn’s Sahadevan remains an intriguing presence. Older, wiser and carrying his own baggage from earlier confrontations, he adds another unpredictable layer to the unfolding drama. His scenes possess a simmering tension that enriches the narrative.
The newcomers integrate seamlessly into the established universe. The new Director General of Police brings a different investigative style, relying less on brute force and more on strategy, while the DGP’s wife emerges as an unexpectedly significant presence rather than a decorative supporting character. Neither feels inserted merely to expand the cast; both influence the narrative in meaningful ways and contribute fresh perspectives to the familiar conflict.
Technically, the film maintains the understated elegance that has become the franchise’s signature. There are no extravagant action sequences or unnecessary visual flourishes. The cinematography quietly serves the story, while the editing maintains a rhythm that gradually tightens as the conspiracy unfolds. Even the background score knows when silence is more powerful than music.
Perhaps the trilogy’s greatest achievement lies in its consistency of tone. Across three films, Jeethu Joseph has never forgotten that Drishyam is fundamentally about an ordinary family pushed into extraordinary circumstances. The thrill comes not from explosions or elaborate set pieces but from watching intelligence confront intelligence.
That makes Georgekutty one of Indian cinema’s most compelling protagonists. He is neither saint nor villain. He occupies that morally uncomfortable space where audiences simultaneously admire his brilliance and question the choices that forced him onto this path.
Few franchises sustain emotional investment over three instalments. Fewer still manage to reinvent themselves each time without losing their identity. Drishyam 3 succeeds because it understands that sequels should expand a story rather than simply extend it. It revisits familiar events from fresh emotional and psychological angles, proving there were still unexplored consequences waiting beneath the surface.
In an era when franchises often become repetitive exercises in brand management, Jeethu Joseph has delivered something increasingly rare: a trilogy in which every chapter has its own identity, its own narrative rhythm and its own dramatic purpose.
The original asked whether Georgekutty could escape. The second asked how he would escape again. The third asks whether one can ever truly escape the consequences of the past.That shift in perspective is what makes Drishyam 3 far more than another sequel. It is the satisfying conclusion to one of Indian cinema’s finest thriller trilogies—and compelling evidence that, in the hands of a master storyteller, sequels don’t have to suck.
The punchline of the film is the climax. Where a deal has been struck between the erring husband of the erstwhile DGP in depression wanting revenge but suffering silently grappling with depression and anxiety, the husband anxious not to lose her as he tells the new GDP if he loses her, he has nobody to live with. But his entire hideous plot go awry because of a loose canon in Sahadevan. And this aspect is exploited by Georgekutty to his advantage to outwit the ex DGP’s husband.
The one line in the end is chilling. When the husband asks his wife watching TV of Georgekutty’s surrender to the police confession to the original crime of having hidden Varun’s body, “Are you satisfied” ( meaning justice has now been delivered for our son”, the reply sends a cold sweat down your spine : I want the girl.
That’s what the entire 45 minutes climax of Drishyam 3 is built on — how to get the girl and wreak revenge on Georgekutty? You guessed it right , the gates are open for Drishyam 4, Georgekutty comes out of prison after serving his five year sentence, how ex DGP plots again and how GK outwits them again.
The audience is waiting for another master class from Jeetu Joseph. To add another note :Drishyam elevated itself from a Malayalam thriller to a PAN India success following which Bollywood decided to make Drishyam with Ajay Degan (he sucks) Shreya ( flops) but the 2nd was a master class (Akshay Khanna anchoring it beautifully and Ajay Devgan improving his performance), but Kamalahasan in Papanasam equalled Mohanlal in the climax of the first, and he and Gautami kept the movie engaging for a Tamil audience. The producers didn’t have the courage to make the sequels. (IPA Service)
