How Jeethu Joseph Rewrites Masculinity Across A Landmark Trilogy In Drishyam 3
For more than a decade, the Drishyam franchise has been celebrated for its intricate screenplay, unexpected twists and intelligent storytelling.
Audiences have discussed Georgekutty’s brilliance, his carefully constructed alibis and his determination to protect his family.
Yet beneath the suspense lies another story that has quietly unfolded over three films, a story about masculinity, fatherhood and the gradual transformation of a man shaped by a deeply patriarchal society.
Instead of merely concluding Georgekutty’s legal and psychological battle, he subtly completes the emotional journey of his protagonist.
The trilogy is no longer just about survival. It becomes a study of how society itself changes, and how even a stubborn, traditional man slowly adapts to that change.
Georgekutty never suddenly becomes a feminist icon.
Nor does Jeethu Joseph attempt to erase his conservative instincts. Instead, the filmmaker presents something far more believable.
A middle-aged man learning, slowly and imperfectly, to negotiate a changing world where women increasingly assert their independence, question tradition and make their own choices.
It is this understated evolution that makes Georgekutty one of Malayalam cinema’s most fascinating male protagonists.
Drishyam (2013): The Protector Who Lives Inside a Patriarchal World
The first film introduces Georgekutty as an ordinary cable TV operator who has built everything through hard work. He is self-made, practical and deeply devoted to his wife Rani and daughters Anju and Anu.
Yet from the beginning, Jeethu Joseph subtly establishes that Georgekutty belongs to a conventional patriarchal household.
Unlike many commercial films where patriarchy is portrayed through overt aggression, Georgekutty’s dominance is almost invisible because it has been normalised within the family. He is the financial provider. He makes the important decisions. The family instinctively waits for his approval. His authority is rarely questioned.
This does not make him abusive. In fact, he is affectionate, humorous and deeply caring. But affection and patriarchy are not mutually exclusive. Georgekutty represents countless Indian fathers whose love coexists with unquestioned authority.
Throughout the first film, Rani’s daily life revolves around Georgekutty and the household. She cooks. She serves him food.
She manages the home. She worries about everyone’s needs before her own.
These scenes are never highlighted dramatically because they reflect the traditional gender division accepted within the family.
Georgekutty appreciates her labour but never questions whether this arrangement itself is unequal.
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Whether it concerns money, education or family matters, Georgekutty naturally becomes the decision-maker. Nobody explicitly declares him the head of the family. Everyone simply behaves as though he is.
This subtle writing accurately reflects how patriarchy often functions, not through violence but through routine.
Interestingly, Jeethu Joseph also plants the first signs that Georgekutty is more progressive than many fathers of his generation.
He allows Anju to attend the nature camp.
This decision is significant because conservative fathers in many small-town settings might refuse such permission altogether. However, his approval still reinforces paternal authority.
Anju attends because her father permits it, not because she independently claims that right. The distinction is important.
The central conflict of Drishyam revolves around protecting women. Yet the protection itself reflects traditional masculinity. Georgekutty assumes complete responsibility for saving his wife and daughters.
They depend entirely upon his intelligence. His daughters rarely participate in planning. Rani follows instructions. Georgekutty alone becomes the strategist.
The film celebrates this protective masculinity, but it also establishes the imbalance of power within the household.
Drishyam 2: Trauma Begins to Challenge Masculinity
Seven years later, Georgekutty has become wealthier. He owns a theatre. His daughters are older. His family appears stable. Yet emotionally, everything has changed. For the first time, Georgekutty discovers that protection alone cannot heal trauma.
Anju develops severe psychological distress. She suffers panic attacks. She struggles with guilt.
Here, Jeethu Joseph subtly shifts the definition of fatherhood. Georgekutty cannot solve emotional pain through clever planning.
He can only stand beside his daughter.
This is perhaps the first crack in his otherwise invincible masculine identity.
Unlike the first film, Georgekutty is visibly exhausted. He worries constantly. He silently watches his daughters suffer.
The confident patriarch begins to look emotionally fragile. His authority remains intact, but his certainty disappears.
In the sequel, Georgekutty spends less time giving instructions and more time observing his family. He starts understanding that emotional security cannot always come from control. This marks an important ideological transition.
Drishyam 3: Jeethu Joseph Introduces a New Generation
If Drishyam explored survival, and Drishyam 2 explored trauma, Drishyam 3 explores social change.
The most important character driving this transformation is Esther Anil’s younger daughter.
She represents a generation that speaks openly about equality, personal freedom and modern relationships.
Instead of delivering ideological speeches, Jeethu Joseph introduces these ideas through everyday family conversations. This is where the trilogy becomes unexpectedly political.
One of the most revealing moments occurs when the daughter of a man Georgekutty had once helped visits the family to invite them to her wedding. The discussion turns toward an inter-caste marriage.
Georgekutty’s younger daughter immediately responds that inter-caste marriage is perfectly normal. She questions why parents should unnecessarily worry.
She argues that if there had been genuine concerns, the children would have discussed them. Her response reflects contemporary India’s changing social attitudes.
What makes the scene remarkable is not merely her dialogue. It is Georgekutty’s reaction. He looks at her and smiles.
The smile carries enormous meaning.
Jeethu Joseph deliberately avoids making Georgekutty deliver a progressive speech.
Instead, he allows silence to communicate acceptance. It is one of the trilogy’s finest examples of visual storytelling.
Another beautifully layered sequence occurs when Esther wears a short dress inside the house. Rani immediately criticises her.
She calls it inappropriate and asks her to change. Georgekutty intervenes. Initially, viewers expect him to support his wife.
Instead, he softly says it is alright.
Yet Jeethu Joseph refuses to simplify the moment.
Georgekutty does not tell Rani that clothing is entirely Esther’s personal choice. He does not challenge the conservative belief directly.
Instead, he asks Esther to change her clothes. This contradiction perfectly captures many Indian fathers today.
They love their daughters. They understand society is changing. Yet they remain unable to completely reject the values with which they were raised.
Georgekutty evolves. But he evolves gradually. Across three films, Georgekutty’s definition of fatherhood quietly changes.
One of the biggest shortcomings in Drishyam 3 is that while Jeethu Joseph allows Georgekutty to evolve, he offers very little growth to Rani’s character.
Georgekutty is shown adapting to a changing world; he listens more, smiles at his daughter’s progressive views on marriage, and appears more accepting of the younger generation.
However, Rani largely remains confined to the same conservative mindset she carried in the first film. This becomes evident in many scenes.
The scenes realistically reflect that social change is gradual and that even Georgekutty is still negotiating between traditional values and modern thinking.
Yet it also exposes the film’s hesitation to fully confront patriarchal attitudes within the family. More importantly, Jeethu Joseph misses an opportunity to develop Rani beyond her conventional role.
Even after three films, she remains largely the same homemaker with unchanged beliefs, while Georgekutty alone is allowed emotional and ideological growth.
As a result, the trilogy’s evolution feels somewhat one-sided, with the male protagonist continuing to occupy the space for transformation while the female lead is left behind.
But increasingly, the film allows to possess independent opinions. The family begins speaking rather than merely listening.
Jeethu Joseph quietly shifts the centre of moral conversation from the father to the daughter.
That itself signals changing gender dynamics. The trilogy deserves praise for refusing simplistic transformations.
Georgekutty does not suddenly become politically correct. He does not abandon his identity overnight. Instead, Jeethu Joseph portrays social change as an ongoing negotiation between generations.
This realism gives the films emotional authenticity. Many Indian fathers today resemble Georgekutty. They struggle between inherited conservatism and modern values. They change slowly, often through love rather than ideology. The trilogy captures this beautifully.
Ultimately, Drishyam 3 succeeds in portraying how even a deeply patriarchal family can gradually adapt to a changing world. The transformation is visible in subtle yet meaningful moments, the younger daughter is encouraged to pursue higher studies in Singapore, the elder daughter openly discusses her arranged marriage and honeymoon plans with her prospective partner, and conversations around inter-caste marriage are treated with greater acceptance than they would have been in the first film.
These moments reflect a family slowly breaking away from rigid social norms and embracing the realities of a new generation. However, while Jeethu Joseph thoughtfully charts Georgekutty’s emotional and ideological evolution, Rani remains largely unchanged.
Even after years of shared experiences and extraordinary circumstances, her worldview continues to be rooted in the same traditional beliefs established in the first film.
She remains primarily defined by her role as Georgekutty’s wife rather than as an individual capable of her own growth. Had the film allowed Rani to evolve alongside Georgekutty, the trilogy’s exploration of changing family dynamics would have felt more complete.
