
Blog| The Kerala Story: How A Propaganda Film Pushed Misinformation And Got National Recognition
In what can only be described as a stunning affront to the integrity of Indian cinema, the 71st National Film Awards conferred two of its most prestigious honours, Best Director and Best Cinematography, upon The Kerala Story (2023), a film roundly condemned for its blatant communal agenda, shoddy filmmaking, and dangerously dishonest portrayal of Kerala.
This decision, more than a mere artistic oversight, reveals the disturbing ease with which propaganda is not only legitimised but celebrated under the auspices of state recognition.
Some films push boundaries. Some films provoke debate. And then, some films peddle falsehoods with a calculated purpose, dividing people, amplifying paranoia, and reimagining harmony as conflict. The Kerala Story belongs to this last category.
At its core, The Kerala Story is constructed upon the already-debunked Hindutva conspiracy theory of “love jihad,” a fiction that posits mass conversions of Hindu women by Muslim men as part of a sinister plan to Islamicise India.
The film falsely claims that 32,000 women from Kerala were radicalised and trafficked into the Islamic State. These numbers were not only based on mistranslations and distorted interpretations but also grossly outnumber the entire global recruitment statistics of ISIS.
Eventually, the filmmakers were forced by courts to retract these claims and admit that the movie was a “fictionalised story “inspired by a few real incidents. Promotional materials were altered.
Disclaimers were added. But by then, the damage was already done. The film had achieved its goal: to inject distrust into the national imagination, particularly towards a state that has long stood as a symbol of multicultural coexistence.
To those familiar with Kerala’s social and cultural fabric, the film’s narrative is not just inaccurate, it is insulting. Kerala is home to Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jains, Jews, and others, all living side by side, often within the same neighbourhoods, partaking in each other’s festivals, rituals, and lives.
This is a state where a Muslim man might run a temple festival committee, where Christians attend iftar feasts, and where Hindu families name their children Fatima or Mariam.
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This is the result of centuries of trade, dialogue, syncretism, and democratic participation. By reducing this complex reality into a paranoid tale of religious brainwashing and terror, The Kerala Story attempts to defame an entire society.
If the film had at least demonstrated technical excellence, one might attempt a case, albeit thin, for separating craft from content. But even this concession is untenable.
The direction by Sudipto Sen is marked by a careless, one-dimensional narrative that appears uninterested in complexity, truth, or even emotional depth.
Characters are cardboard cutouts, Muslims are uniformly villainous, women are passive vessels to be manipulated, and ideology is a hammer rather than a lens and the exaggerated mockery dialogues.
The cinematography, awarded to Prasantanu Mohapatra, lacks any meaningful visual language. Several scenes are poorly lit, lazily composed, and jarringly edited.
Camera angles often appear arbitrary, not chosen with an eye for storytelling or mood but simply functional. The lack of aesthetic ambition makes one wonder what precisely the jury saw that merited recognition.
India Today listed the film among the five worst Hindi films of 2023, and for good reason—there is nothing here that meets the standard of national celebration.
The most troubling aspect of this recognition lies in its timing and political backdrop. The ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and its ideological parent, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), heavily promoted the film, even organising special screenings during election campaigns.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself endorsed the film, using it to accuse opposition parties of enabling terrorism. In a deeply polarised political climate, the film became a convenient narrative tool, one that conflates national security with communal suspicion, and victimhood with vengeance.
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By awarding this film, the National Film Awards jury has tacitly endorsed a state-backed effort to reframe art as propaganda. That such a project has been given the same platform once graced by filmmakers like Satyajit Ray, Shyam Benegal, Mira Nair, and Adoor Gopalakrishnan is not just unfortunate, it is a travesty.
The reaction from Kerala was swift and unified. Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan denounced the awards as an “insult” to Indian cinema’s secular and inclusive legacy.
Opposition leader V. D. Satheesan called it a transparent attempt by the BJP to advance a hate-driven agenda under the veneer of national recognition. Congress MP K. C. Venugopal went further, stating the film belongs “in the dustbin,” not the national stage.
Beyond political parties, civil society too rose in protest. The documentary The Unknown Kerala Stories, made by filmmaker Sanu Kummil, was released as a direct counter-narrative, highlighting real stories of interfaith unity across the state.
Social media was flooded with testimonies from Malayalis of all faiths, who saw the award not just as a political endorsement, but a personal attack on their identities, families, and community bonds.
At stake here is not just the reputation of Kerala or the credibility of one film award. The question that now looms large is: What do the National Film Awards represent today? Are they a recognition of artistic excellence, cultural relevance, and national unity, or have they become yet another casualty of ideological capture?
India’s film fraternity has long prided itself on its diversity, its rebelliousness, and its ability to challenge societal norms. From Garam Hawa to Bandit Queen, from Ankur to Masaan, our greatest films have dared to speak uncomfortable truths. But what we see in The Kerala Story is the opposite: a film that speaks comforting lies to the powerful, and fearful lies to the public.
By honouring such a film, the National Film Awards risk transforming from a cultural compass into a political tool. This is not a minor misstep. This is a dangerous shift that undermines the very essence of Indian cinema as a democratic, plural, and humanist enterprise.
In awarding The Kerala Story, we are witnessing how narrative control is exerted through culture, how misinformation gains legitimacy, and how communal suspicion is sanctified in the name of national pride.