An archaic form of communication becomes the hero
Patriot and Malayalam Cinema’s uneasy tryst with privacy
Mahesh Narayanan’s cinema, Patriot, brought back an archaic form of communication; an almost obsolete form of communication as a quietly radical instinct in an era where every message is instant, visible and stored. Here morse code was not nostalgia, it was resistance.
In a film that otherwise follows a familiar, almost predictable trajectory, this choice feels strangely disruptive. It doesn’t just sit within the narrative, it questions the world outside it. In a time where communication has become frictionless, effortless, and dangerously transparent, morse code reintroduces friction. It slows things down; it demands intention, and in doing so, it protects. And that is where Patriot finds its most honest voice.
The missed pieces of the puzzle
As a cinema, Patriot was neither layered nor a work of cinematic brilliance. The plot unfolds exactly where you expect it to, with actions that feel pre-determined rather than discovered, especially post interval. The storytelling often leans into a slightly over-fictionalised world, one that hesitates to fully confront the reality it gestures towards.
This is particularly noticeable when placed against the larger landscape of Malayalam cinema, an industry that has, over the years, built its reputation on nuance. From intimate character studies to socially grounded narratives, Malayalam films have consistently engaged with complexity, often choosing discomfort over convenience. Patriot, in contrast, simplifies but what it chooses to simplify is not insignificant.
At the heart of the film lies a deeply contemporary anxiety: the erosion of privacy, particularly for the young.
The film involves 16-year-olds whose privacy is systematically compromised and in doing so a corporate giant backed by the powerful machinery is at fault. There is dramatic exaggeration here, however without any cinematic spectacle designed to shock. Every person who tries to bring this institution down or tries to expose them is not let alive.
There is access. Casual, unchecked, almost bureaucratic access. And that is precisely why it works. Because outside the screen, this is not an isolated incident, it is a pattern. According to global digital safety reports, over 60% of teenagers have experienced some form of online privacy invasion, ranging from data tracking to unauthorized sharing of personal content. In India, cyber complaints involving minors have steadily increased, reflecting a digital ecosystem where consent is often blurred, misunderstood, or entirely bypassed.
What Patriot does intentionally or otherwise is hold a mirror to this quiet violation; not loudly nor perfectly, but unmistakably.
The focal length that works out
Within the context of Malayalam cinema, this focus feels like part of a larger, emerging shift. An industry once preoccupied with physical spaces homes, villages, institutions is now beginning to engage with digital spaces and the invisible systems that govern them. Questions of identity are no longer confined to who we are in society, but extend to how we exist online, how we are tracked, and who has access to our most private selves.
Patriot does not fully explore these questions. It touches them, gestures toward them, but rarely sits with them long enough. Its narrative choices often retreat into familiarity, resolving tensions where they could have been allowed to linger and yet, even in its limitations, it points toward something urgent.
Morse code feels like the film’s true protagonist.
In a hyper-connected world where every message is stored, analysed, and potentially exploited, Morse code represents a form of communication that resists immediacy. It cannot be easily decoded without effort. It cannot be casually intercepted and understood. It demands participation while creating distance and in that distance, it creates safety.
There is something almost poetic about this forgotten language becoming the only reliable form of privacy in a world obsessed with exposure. While the characters navigate a system that constantly watches, records, and intrudes, morse code exists just outside that system.
Untouched.Unclaimed.Unmonetised.
In many ways, it becomes the only space in the film where agency still exists.
As a cinematic experience, Patriot may not stand out in 2026. It doesn’t push the boundaries of storytelling, nor does it challenge its audience in structurally innovative ways. Its predictability often undercuts its potential, and its fictionalised treatment of reality sometimes distances it from the very issue it seeks to address. But as a conversation starter, it lingers because beneath its familiar narrative lies an uncomfortable truth: we are living in a time where privacy is no longer given, it is something that has to be actively protected, negotiated, and, at times, reinvented.
Perhaps, that is why morse code stays with you longer than any character or plot point. Dot. Dash. Pause. Even though the much awaited coming together of Mollywood's big faces, Mamootty and Mohanlal after almost 2 decades was much awaited by the audience. Honestly, the every actor did their part absolutely well, what missed to hit the bull's eye was the depth in narration.
The language built on silence, now echoing a distinctly contemporary fear because in a world that knows everything about us; our movements, our conversations, our choices, the question is no longer whether we are being watched. It is whether we have any space left that isn’t. And Malayalam cinema, slowly but surely, seems ready to ask that question.
