Pennum Porattum Review: A Sharp Rural Satire on Patriarchy, Gossip and Moral Hypocrisy

Some films don’t announce what they are about. They simply drop you inside a place and let you observe.

Pennum Porattum ( Girl And The Fools Parade) feels exactly like that. It begins with confusion, small flames, scattered tension and then, strangely, a dog. And from that unexpected starting point, the film slowly unfolds into something much deeper than it first appears.

Spoiler Alert:

The dog, Suttu, becomes our silent observer. His struggles are narrated by Tovino Thomas. Almost like someone watching humans from a distance and trying to understand them.

When the dog says the world is long, so that if we do not like a place, we can run away, it sounds like a joke. But by the end, that line feels like the most intelligent thought in the entire village.

‘Anomie’ Review: A Quiet Crime Thriller That Grows Stronger As It Unfolds

The setting is rural Palakkad’s fictional village (pattada). The lived-in version. Muddy roads. Narrow houses. Casual debates. The Malayalam slang is so natural that you forget it is written dialogue.

Most of the cast are fresh faces, and that works in the film’s favour. There is no performance trying to impress. People simply exist on screen.

At the centre stands Kumar. He says he does not want marriage. He only wants sex without commitment.

That one sentence travels faster than the riot in the opening scene.

The film quietly asks a dangerous question. Are most marriages in this village really about something deeper, or are they wrapped versions of the same desire Kumar spoke out loud?

Prakambanam Review: Spirits, Students And Slapstick Make This Horror Comedy Click

Meanwhile Suttu bites Baburaj’s mother. And suddenly, the dog becomes public enemy number one.

People scream rabies. Men who were discussing morality five minutes ago now run like children. One man dramatically collapses just from seeing the dog. The chaos is hilarious, but it is also revealing. Fear spreads faster than facts.

Parallel to this madness, Kumar approaches Charu, played by Raina Radhakrishnan. He directly asks her to make love.  Charu’s response is immediate and dignified. She scolds him and walks away.

That should have been the end of it.

But in a village, nothing ends privately.

The incident spreads through WhatsApp. Screenshots. Voice notes. Interpretations. Suddenly, everyone becomes a judge. The same people who were running behind a dog now run behind gossip. What was a personal conversation becomes public entertainment.

Here is where Pennum Porattum becomes quietly brilliant.

In the first phase, Kumar is criticised. Then the language changes. The tone changes. The blame shifts.

And like always, it settles on the woman.

The film does not scream about patriarchy. It shows it in casual sentences. In laughter. In the friend circle, jokes. In wedding arrangements.

Around this central conflict, the film keeps sprinkling small observations. Men accusing others of illicit affairs while hiding their own secrets.

Friends switch sides depending on the public mood. People pretending to be progressive while carrying deep-rooted bias. The humour is constant, but it has teeth.

Technically, the film stays grounded. The cinematography captures the locality without beautifying it artificially. The background score never overwhelms the scene.

The direction by Rajesh Madhavan and Ravi Sankar’s writing trusts silence as much as dialogue. Even statues and framed photographs feel symbolic.

Pennum Porattum is completely bonkers in the best possible way.

It carries the chaotic energy of films like Thinkalazhcha Nishchayam and Jallikattu, blending absurdity with sharp social observation.

The film seems fully aware of its madness and leans into it confidently. It follows a familiar framework of small-town chaos spiralling out of control, almost as if it understands what audiences loved in those earlier films and amplifies those elements.

At the same time, it stretches itself into something like a folk musical, using rhythm, repetition and heightened moments to reveal the most basic instincts of human nature.

Of course, the film is not without flaws. There are moments where the animal appears visibly stressed, which can make certain sequences uncomfortable to watch.

Another lingering confusion is around the term Payittu. The film mentions it, but never clearly explains what it means, and even searching for it later does not provide satisfying clarity. That ambiguity might be intentional, but it leaves viewers slightly disconnected.

Visually, the film sometimes overindulges.

There is noticeable environmental alteration and an excessive use of slow-motion shots that feel unnecessary. A tighter approach might have made the storytelling sharper.

Still, one undeniable strength of Pennum Porattum is that it introduces fresh talent to the industry. The new faces bring authenticity and unpredictability that elevate the film’s raw appeal.

It portrays a society that feeds on rumours, amplifies trivial incidents and turns everyday misunderstandings into grand spectacles. The plot is outrageous, unpredictable and unapologetically loud, yet beneath the madness lies a sharp commentary on human behaviour and collective obsession with scandal.

The animal handlers deserve appreciation for making the dog’s performance look so convincing and integral to the narrative. The animal does not feel like a prop but like a living character driving the chaos.

And for a debut attempt, hats off to Rajesh Madhavan for daring to bring such an experimental and unconventional subject to the screen. It is not easy to build a story around gossip, a dog, and village morality and still make it engaging.

What truly stands out is how the politics of the film are indirectly loud. It never screams ideology, yet the social commentary is unmistakable.

The chaos of society, the deep-rooted patriarchy, the casual objectification of women and the way blame is conveniently shifted onto them are all portrayed with uncomfortable honesty.

The film exposes how quickly a community can turn against a woman while protecting male ego, how gossip becomes judgment, and how moral policing hides behind tradition.

Beneath the humour and madness lies a biting reflection of a society that thrives on scandal and suppresses female agency, making the satire sharper than it first appears.

Also, it powerfully suggests that human cruelty and ego are so toxic that even animals choose to run away from people and their deeds.

Timeline Verdict: 

Pennum Porattum stands out for its fresh faces, raw and natural performances, and Rajesh Madhavan’s bold, experimental direction that fearlessly dives into social chaos.