BY JYOTHSNA HEGDE*

A circle of males sit huddled beneath a flickering bulb, their shadows clinging to peeling partitions, the air heavy with incense smoke from a funeral earlier that day. Within the middle, Ravi Anna—the village’s unstated chieftain, performed with magnetic ease by Shaneel Gautham—leans ahead, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush as he spins a ghost story. His loyal entourage hangs on each phrase, although one retains interrupting, chanting like a warding mantra: “In case you get scared once you meet the demon, you’re accomplished.”

Then—a sound, sudden and sharp—splits the silence. Chairs scrape, eyes widen, concern prickles the pores and skin… till the supply is revealed as nothing in any respect. Nervous laughter spills into the humid evening, half reduction, half sheepishness. In that second, Su From So exhibits its hand: concern and folly, braveness and comedy, all certain within the close-knit rhythms of a coastal village.

From right here, Su From So unfolds with the languid confidence of a storyteller who is aware of his folks effectively. JP Thuminad—author, director, and lead actor—roots his debut within the sun-washed, rain-slicked world of Mangalore’s coastal hamlets the place superstition strolls alongside motive, rumor races the monsoon wind, and eccentricities swell into legend.

The story begins with a jumpscare and a sudden loss of life, adopted by elaborate mourning rituals and a communal feast. The director makes use of this opening not simply to set the tone however to attract us into the material of the village itself.

The central stress arrives quietly: Ashoka, a carefree younger man, turns into the topic of a weird rumor—that he’s possessed by the spirit of a lady named Sulochana. Ashoka’s “haunting” by Sulochana—a stoic older girl from the neighboring village of Someshwara (Su from So)—turns into an anchor for each eerie humor and a sly nod to native folklore.

What begins as a comic book misunderstanding spirals into village-wide hysteria, pulling in an ensemble of characters so vividly drawn that they really feel like folks you’ve met in a bustling market or at a coastal tea stall.

The villagers, armed with custom, half-remembered rituals, and absolute conviction, band collectively to drive the ghost away. Within the background of this supposed haunting, the movie gently explores the bonds, tensions, and on a regular basis rhythms of neighborhood dwelling—the way in which folks shut ranks in instances of hassle, and the heat that underpins even essentially the most outrageous rumors.

What may have been a standard horror story turns into, in Thuminad’s arms, a satirical comedy—with out cruelty. Thuminad doesn’t mock his characters; as a substitute, he invitations us to snicker with them, to see their quirks and contradictions as reflections of our personal. The native dialect is as a lot a star as any actor, its turns of phrase and quicksilver rhythms reworking on a regular basis banter into moments of allure.

The world of Su From So is a quaint village in Dakshina Kannada—a tight-knit neighborhood the place pleasure and sorrow are shared with equal fervor. The village itself is a dwelling ensemble, every character a thread within the material.

Ravi Anna’s authority is equal components charisma and efficiency; his braveness typically wavers when nobody is wanting. By his facet is Sathish Anna (Deepak Rai Panaje), ever-loyal and able to again up his chief’s pronouncements with out query. Rickshaw Chandra Anna (Prakash Thuminad) carries gossip as deftly as passengers. Yadhu Anna (Mime Ramadas) kinds committees for something and all the pieces, delighting in speeches that path into tangents. Ramesh Anna (Pushparaj Bolar) and his household, together with his son Ashoka, stand on the coronary heart of the ghostly disaster. Bhanu (Sandhya Arekere) affords quiet resilience amid the chaos.

Each nook of the body breathes life, from a baby peering from behind a pillar to a fishing boat rocking gently because the neighborhood debates the spirit world. Inhabitants of this area, be it the almost blind elder who nonetheless catches each scrap of gossip, the perpetually tipsy Bava (Vijay Kumar), sport for any “mission” that includes liquor, the youth obsessed together with his crisply ironed shirt, or the impossibly skinny girl with an urge for food that defies science. These folks don’t simply populate the village—they make it pulse with life.

The performances are lived-in and unshowy. Shaneel Gautham’s Ravi Anna radiates the simple authority of a person who is aware of his place within the social order—but permits sparkles of vulnerability to interrupt via. Whereas he initiatives the arrogance of a pacesetter—chest puffed, voice regular—there’s susceptibility beneath the floor. His storytelling bravado in that ingesting scene is the armor he wears, however when confronted with real uncertainty, his eyes betray sparkles of concern.

The efficiency by Shaneel Gautham ensures Ravi Anna stays each relatable and human. He’s not a caricature however a person attempting to carry his floor, even when he’s not sure what that floor actually is.

After which there’s Raj B Shetty—not simply producer however inventive anchor—who, beneath his Lighter Buddha Movies banner, resisted promoting the film on his personal identify and as a substitute let its rooted narrative stand tall, maintaining his function a secret till launch, when he seems as Guruji, an eccentric, barely effeminate exorcist with a aptitude for the theatrical.

He performs the function with a figuring out, playful contact that skewers self-styled holy males whereas mixing seamlessly into the village material. His off-screen affect is seen within the movie’s authenticity, its unhurried rhythm, and its embrace of recent expertise.

JP Thuminad offers Ashoka the bewildered vitality of somebody caught between the mundane and the inexplicable. He’s the right catalyst for chaos. Whether or not or not he’s really possessed is sort of inappropriate; what issues is the way in which the village responds. Some are fast to supply options steeped in ritual, others gossip from the sidelines, and some—like Bhanu (Sandhya Arekere)—develop into collateral harm within the mess.

Halfway via, the narrative shifts. Beneath the laughs lies Bhanu’s story, performed with quiet energy by Sandhya Arekere.

With out warning, the lightness of the sooner scenes offers method to one thing extra layered. By Bhanu, the movie addresses the unstated social constraints confronted by girls in communities. Her struggles are by no means introduced with melodrama, but the emotional weight is simple.

It’s a tonal pivot that works as a result of the groundwork has been so fastidiously laid; we’ve already invested in these folks, so when the temper adjustments, it feels earned.

The movie doesn’t draw back from exhibiting how the recklessness of males can ripple out and have an effect on girls disproportionately. But it by no means turns preachy. The purpose is made subtly, embedded inside humor and human interplay.

Because the “haunting” progresses, the road between actuality and perception grows softer. The villagers, anchored in previous customs, interpret each odd prevalence as proof of Sulochana’s presence. Concern turns into its personal storyteller, weaving coincidences into destiny.

And thru all of it, the digicam watches with out judgment, catching fleeting particulars. The enhancing permits area for silences and sidelong glances, embracing the rhythm of rural life somewhat than forcing urgency. Every body feels lived-in, genuine, and unvarnished.

If there’s a minor indulgence, it’s within the pacing. Some scenes stretch like the recent, gradual afternoons they depict, the narrative sometimes meandering. But this unhurriedness feels deliberate—a refusal to hurry via the relationships, rituals, and conversations that outline Su From So.

The humor emerges organically—typically broad, typically sly. A ritual misfires as a result of somebody forgot the correct of incense. A heated debate on ghost-banishing devolves into an argument over committee assembly minutes. Even moments meant to be solemn are laced with absurdity, as when a villager insists the “indicators” level to Sulochana’s displeasure just because his coconut tree hasn’t borne fruit this season.

In the long run, Su From So is much less a ghost story than a narrative in regards to the individuals who inform them. It’s the sort of story shared on verandahs throughout energy cuts, the place actuality and fiction mingle and the pleasure lies within the telling as a lot as within the reality.

Rustic, affectionate, and brimming with native taste, Thuminad’s debut captures a neighborhood in all its heat, stubbornness, and eccentricity—reminding us that typically, essentially the most haunting factor of all is how deeply we belong to the locations and folks we name our personal.

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*Jyothsna Hegde is the Metropolis Information Editor of NRI Pulse.