A certain expectation of a pleasant opening scene builds when the camera pans over a kid’s crayon drawings in the initial moments of Chidambaran’s Balan, until we realise that the drawings are on the walls of a prison cell, where the boy is lodged with his mother. That intriguing sequence sets the tone for the film, in which we are constantly caught in uncommon situations with a set of characters, the ones whom we don’t see often in our cinema, like the trigger-happy but bedridden grandma.

The wall drawings provide a sanitised version of the mother and son’s traumatic past, with the film expanding our understanding of their background as the narrative progresses. Another version of their story comes in the form of a bedtime horror story, narrated to a grandmother. The mother (Farzana Palathingal ) and son (Adisheshan K.R. and Mohammed Sinan) would remain unnamed in this review, just as in the movie, for they live many lives under different identities in a bid to escape their past. “What is my new name and what is our new story?” the boy constantly asks the mother, and every time she has a different answer.

One of the marvellous things about Balan is how well it depicts the passage of time, like the initial montage of them shifting from one place to another, with different identities. It immediately gives us a feel of the perilousness of their existence and makes us fear for them every time the past is about to catch up. It is with the same delicate touch that the film later pulls us along when the narrative suddenly advances by several years.

In perhaps his best writing effort yet, Jithu Madhavan (Aavesham) makes us wonder about the psychological effects of witnessing what the boy does, without overtly stating it. We see it in the boy’s intense, deep-set eyes and in his little, borderline criminal tendencies during crises. The film’s gaze is never judgmental, but one of understanding. Clever writing choices pop up often in the narrative, such as the way it casually conveys the problematic background of a policeman or a scene of betrayal, where the betrayed utters one of the film’s most moving lines to the betrayer, a line so filled with love and concern. Only at the fag end of the film, when a character is heartlessly made collateral damage to fulfil the film’s objective, does Balan slip a little.

ALSO READ: ‘Jan-E-Man’ Malayalam movie review: Hits all the right notes with its inventive script

Each of the characters is well-etched, with all the performers — Farzana, Adisheshan, Zinan, Dolly June (as the feisty grandmother), Beena Antony, Jean Paul Lal — elevating it. Tovino Thomas, in a shorter role, delivers one of the best acts of his career. Sushin’s moody background score teases out the apt emotions in every scene, while Shyju Khalid leaves us with some exquisite imagery.

With his supremely crafted third film after Jan-e-Man and Manjummel Boys, Chidambaram yet again proves his mastery over telling a story without missing a beat and by not treading the same paths that proved successful for him. One leaves the theatre with so much to unpack and ruminate, wondering what life has in store for these characters, who have already gone through much. In an era where most films now end with a forced sequel possibility, Balan’s definitive ending opens up a thousand possibilities in our minds.

Balan is currently running in theatres