Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is a 2025 Indian Malayalam-language romantic black comedy written and directed by Althaf Salim. Produced by Ashiq Usman under Ashiq Usman Productions in association with Vipin Agnihotri, the film stars Fahadh Faasil as Aby Mathew and Kalyani Priyadarshan as Nidhi Sudhish, with Revathi Pillai, Lal, Vinay Forrt, and Suresh Krishna in key supporting roles. The music is composed by Justin Varghese, and the 151-minute film was theatrically released on August 29, 2025, coinciding with the Onam festival. Central Films handled its Kerala distribution, while AP International managed the rest of India. The post-theatrical streaming rights were acquired by Netflix, where it began streaming on September 26th.
The story follows Aby Mathew and his fiancée Nidhi Sudhish, whose playful pre-wedding ritual takes a surreal turn when Aby—fulfilling Nidhi’s dream of him arriving on a white horse—falls into a coma after an accident. When he awakens more than 300 days later, reality and dream begin to blur in unexpected ways. Blending absurd humor with melancholic undertones, Althaf Salim’s film uses dark comedy to probe themes of depression, loneliness, trauma, and human connection.
Despite its ambition, the film was met with sharp criticism both during its theatrical run and after its OTT release. While some viewers hailed it as an experimental, emotionally resonant piece, many others found it disjointed and alienating. In truth, Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is a film made for a very particular audience — those who find personal meaning in its eccentric rhythm and chaotic sincerity. For everyone else, it remains a confusing, uneven experience.
From the moment Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira hit theaters, the critical response was scathing. Reviewers lambasted it as “2025’s most disappointing Malayalam film,” calling it an “incohesive rom-com” and a “painfully unfunny misfire.” Fahadh Faasil’s performance was dismissed as “awkward” and “miscast,” and many concluded the film lacked any emotional coherence.
Even after moving to Netflix, the reception didn’t shift dramatically. While a small but passionate group of viewers championed it as a “misunderstood masterpiece” and praised its raw emotional honesty, the broader streaming audience echoed the critics: the film simply didn’t land. It became clear that Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira isn’t for everyone—it resonates deeply with those who recognize its reflections of mental health and emotional chaos, but alienates those expecting a conventional rom-com.
In that sense, the film’s polarization is its essence: it’s not a misunderstood gem for everyone, but a deeply personal one for a few.
One of the deepest fault lines in the film's reception is its audacious blend of tone and subject. Marketed as a 'romantic black comedy,' its narrative is built on a foundation of far more serious themes: depression, loneliness, trauma, and suicidal ideation. This is familiar territory for director Althaf Salim, who previously gave cancer a similarly 'light-hearted treatment' in his debut, Njandukalude Naattil Oridavela. Here, he again deploys 'absurd humour and eccentric performances' to explore his protagonist's inner turmoil.
This wasn't just a quirky comedy with a sad moment; it was a film that used comedy as its primary language to explore mental health. As one viewer insightfully noted, the film’s deeper purpose was to explore the suffocating nature of mental illness and our capacity for human connection.
Althaf Salim explores here... the vicious loop of depression and how personal & internalised the predicament is... and the potential of people to be 'human' & help each other to come out of the traumatic loop and move on.
For many critics, this tonal balancing act failed, feeling disjointed. For a segment of the audience, however, this counter-intuitive approach was precisely what made the film feel so painfully honest, capturing the chaotic and often absurd internal experience of navigating mental illness, a reality that seldom fits into neat dramatic boxes.
Nowhere is the critic-audience disconnect more apparent than in the evaluation of Fahadh Faasil's central performance. Critics were largely unimpressed, with many reviews declaring he was 'miscast' and that his 'comedic attempts felt contrived.' His portrayal of the protagonist, Aby, was seen as awkward and lacking the natural timing required for the role.
Yet, for viewers who embraced the film, this perceived awkwardness wasn't a failure of performance but a deliberate and authentic character choice—a goofy mask hiding a deeper pain. This interpretation unlocked a profound relatability, especially for those who saw their own struggles with social performance reflected on screen.
...he's shown to be this person who acts all goofy and over-the-top in front of others while he just stares blankly into nothingness while he's on his own. I know that person, and I've been that person...
Herein lies the film’s central irony: the very qualities that critics panned as inauthentic were what made the character feel deeply, uncomfortably real to those who understood the facade. It suggests a growing audience appetite for portrayals of male vulnerability that defy conventional charisma.
Beyond performance, the film’s very structure was a major point of contention. Critics described a plot that 'meanders without purpose,' populated by 'incohesive' scenes and marred by 'jerky' editing. The film was largely written off as a structurally unsound project.
Once again, viewers offered an alternative reading, arguing these supposed flaws were intentional choices designed to serve the film’s core themes. This was not incompetent filmmaking, they argued, but a bold attempt to create a cinematic language for internal chaos. Fans saw it as a 'fever dream,' a 'lightning in a bottle that can’t be explained,' designed to deliberately blur the line between 'reality, dreams, and emotions in the protagonist's psyche.' They contended that the 'jerky edits... help convey the jarring mental state of the protagonists.' What one side saw as a bug, the other saw as the most crucial feature.
In a film that divided nearly everyone, there was one point of universal agreement: the magnificent performance of veteran actor Lal as the protagonist's father, Mathew. In a sea of conflicting opinions, Lal’s portrayal was a consistent highlight for critics and audiences alike.
He was unanimously hailed as a 'scene stealer' and the 'MVP' of the film, delivering what many called 'laugh-out-loud funny' moments. Audiences celebrated him as an 'absolute menace throughout,' whose comedic timing was 'gold' and whose 'quoted t-shirts' became an instant fan favorite. In a film defined by its ambiguity and experimental nature, Lal's performance provided a much-needed anchor—a character whose humor and heart were so brilliantly executed that they grounded the entire chaotic experience for everyone.
Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is a film defined by its contradictions. It is a critically panned commercial failure that found a second life as a beloved cult favorite. It’s an absurd comedy that is, at its heart, a deeply sad story about depression. It’s a film whose perceived flaws—a disjointed plot, an awkward lead performance—are also seen as its greatest artistic strengths.
Ultimately, the film's unexpected afterlife in the streaming era suggests a fascinating evolution in audience taste. For many, it was a messy experiment. But for a passionate and growing community, it offered something more valuable than technical precision: a heartfelt, if chaotic, exploration of the human condition that felt profoundly true.
Its journey poses a question central to the future of film analysis itself. When it comes to art, what matters more: a flawless execution, or a flawed attempt that makes you feel something true?
