'Moonwalk' is messy, flawed, yet emotionally magnetic.

Set against the vibrant backdrop of 90s Kerala, where temples echoed with loudspeakers, government college fests turned into local carnivals, and breakdance VHS tapes were sacred contraband, Moonwalk doesn’t just revive an era; it inhabits it.

(Spoiler Alert)

The film, directed by debutant Vinod A K and backed by the heavyweights Lijo Jose Pellissery and Listin Stephen, tells the story of a ragtag group of college misfits who, through tape decks, temple fests, and heartbreak, find identity and resistance in dance.

The story kicks off with a wonderfully nostalgic opening number, a cassette playing on a classic tape recorder, instantly yanking the viewer into the 90s, complete with temple festivals, cricket in alleyways, and the ever-buzzing student union fests.

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A group of college students, all new faces to Mollywood, are struck with awe at a stage performance by a slick dance crew called the Zoom Boys, known for their MJ-inspired breakdancing.

Inspired, this group of six, drawn from different social, economic, and emotional backgrounds, begins a clumsy yet heartfelt journey to learn breakdance.  They call themselves “The Moonwalkers.”

They rehearse in flour mills, railway sidings, and empty godowns. They perform at local fests and association stages. The film captures this with an unpolished realism that echoes the street grit of LJP’s earlier works like Angamaly Diaries — but with the nervous energy of a first film, which Moonwalk undeniably is.

The group’s dynamics are charmingly chaotic; one of the members, Varun, played by Rishi Kainikkara, develops a quirky, cringe-laced romance with Zeena (Nainita Maria) made awkward by her awkwardly written and badly delivered lines that stick out in an otherwise grounded script.

Another character, Sudeep (Prem Shanker), loses sync in rehearsals, while Sura (Sibi Kuttappan), a lower-caste helper previously ignored, yearns to be accepted.

The politics of inclusion are treated with raw honesty here, not sermonized but lived through small moments of humiliation, silence, and eventual rebellion.

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When the Zoom Boys hijack their chance to perform at a prestigious engineering college fest, the betrayal fuels their purpose.

Tragedy and class come into sharp focus: one member is grounded by an angry mother returning from abroad, all were caught in a drunk-driving incident, and their iconic long hair — essential to their dance persona—is forcefully chopped by the police.

The second half sharpens the emotional edge. Sudeep returns from Singapore; Zeena’s brother’s gang fractures Varun’s hand, forcing him out of the climactic performance. And then comes the moment that defines the film — Sura’s solo.

A performance layered with rage, rejection, and resistance, it is less dance and more defiance. It captures the pain of caste humiliation, the anger of being invisible, and the fire of someone who finally claims space, in rhythm and life.

The film beautifully captures 90s nostalgia; from vintage Yamaha bikes roaring through narrow lanes to the iconic college wear and retro styling, it’s a heartfelt throwback to a simpler, freer time.

Debutant director Vinod A K who also co-wrote the screenplay, demonstrates a clear vision throughout. He balances nostalgia, socio-political undertones, and youthful ambition without resorting to melodrama.

All the young actors— Sujith Prabhakar, Rishi Kainikkara, Siddharth Babu, Manoj Moses R, Prem Shankar S, and Appu Ashari—delivered performances filled with heart and sincerity, yet Anunath and Sibi Kuttappan stole the spotlight.

Prashant Pillai’s music deserves special mention, seamlessly blending retro grooves with emotional weight and anchoring the film in its time period. The soundtrack is a winner.

With no actual MJ tracks used, the score still evokes his spirit. Funky basslines, lo-fi cassette hiss, and groovy retro synths. The choreography doesn’t chase polish but emotion.

Dialogues are rough and inconsistent but never inauthentic. Editing could’ve been tighter in the first half, but the second half more than redeems the sluggish start.

However, the class divide subtly seeps into even their most carefree moments. Even as the group pursues a common dream, not everyone is treated equally. Sura’s emotional arc is a clear standout in this regard, receiving a memorable conclusion that reflects real-life discrimination faced by so many.

Although not every subplot finds resolution, Sura’s storyline does. His arc, from being dismissed and sidelined to owning the stage, is the emotional backbone of the film. Despite not being a dance film in the conventional sense, Moonwalk carries enough spirit and rhythm to earn that label.

The film immerses itself in the everyday lives of its young dancers, revealing honest, unfiltered glimpses into families shaped by struggle, love, and dreams. Class divisions, subtle caste dynamics, and society’s suspicion of those who dress or behave differently are all portrayed with sensitivity and restraint.

Flawed yet full of soul, Moonwalk is not just about mastering the steps; it’s about finding your ground, your voice, and finally… your dance.

Timeline Verdict:

Moonwalk is a quiet rebellion wrapped in rhythm and friendship. Its excessive rawness leads to a few missteps, but when it hits the right beat, it dances straight into your heart.

Cast:

• Anunath
• Rishi Kainikkara
• Siddharth B.
• Sujith Prabhakar
• Arjun Manilal
• Manoj Moses
• Appu
• Sanjana
• Nainita Maria
• Meenakshi
• Harshitha J Pisharody
• Sreekant Murali
• Thushara Pillai
• Nikhil Sahapalan
• Thonnackal Jayachandran
• Mini I.G.
• Prem Shankar

Crew:

• Director: Vinod A. K.
• Producer: Listin Stephen, Jasni Ahamed
• Music: Prashant Pillai
• Cinematographer: Ansar Shah
• Editor: Deepu Joseph & Kiran Das
• Line Producer: Santhosh Pandalam
• Story/Screenplay/Dialogues: Vinod A. K., Mathew Varghese, and Sunil Gopalakrishnan
• Art Director: Sabu Mohan
• Sound Designer: Renganaath