“A Stylish Saga of Power and Legacy”
There comes a point when every society begins to mythologise its most notorious figures. Khalifa taps into this fascination with striking confidence. Rooted in the collective memory of Kerala’s gold-smuggling controversies, writer Jinu V. Abraham and director Vysakh create a world where crime extends far beyond the act itself merging seamlessly with politics, power, masculinity, ambition, and legacy. Here, infamy becomes a source of charisma, power breeds mythology, and a feared criminal slowly evolves into something far more enduring: a legend.
The film caught between two equally compelling impulses: to expose the corrupt systems that manufacture power and to glorify the magnetic men who thrive within them. At the heart of this conflict is Mambarakkal Aamir Ali, played by Prithviraj Sukumaran with a measured, quietly formidable intensity. His journey from an ordinary textile merchant to a feared contraband kingpin unfolds less as a straightforward ascent to power than as a gradual surrender to a legacy that seems to have been waiting for him all along. Prithviraj gives Aamir a layered presence, balancing authority with vulnerability and menace with restraint, making the character’s transformation feel both convincing and inevitable.
On a technical level, Khalifa is polished, stylish, and built with the precision of a major commercial spectacle. Jomon T. John’s cinematography gives the film’s world of smuggling, wealth, and political intrigue a glossy, expansive scale, while Chaman Chakko’s sharp editing maintains a steady sense of momentum. Jakes Bejoy’s energetic score heightens the drama and lends force to the film’s biggest moments, while the action sequences are staged with enough flair to deliver genuine thrills. The supporting cast including Renji Panicker, Indrans, and Sanju Sivram—brings substance and texture to the narrative, while Mohanlal’s appearance creates an immediate surge of excitement, carrying the unmistakable screen presence that only a superstar of his stature can bring. 
The film draws inspiration from the turbulence of real world political scandals, yet it often seems more fascinated by the glamour and theatre of power than by the damage power leaves in its wake. Criminal empires are given a larger-than-life aura, vigilante justice is framed with heroic grandeur, and systemic corruption becomes less a subject of interrogation than a stage upon which powerful personalities can perform.
The second half, however, occasionally struggles beneath the weight of its own ambitions. A growing maze of revelations, family legacies, and political conspiracies makes the narrative increasingly dense, at times favouring shock and spectacle over emotional resonance. The treatment of its women is another noticeable limitation: they remain largely on the margins, while the men inherit influence, shape destinies, settle old scores, and command the film’s narrative and moral universe.
And yet, Khalifa remains consistently watchable. It may not fully deliver the incisive political thriller it occasionally hints at, but as a stylish, star powered commercial spectacle, it has energy, scale, and undeniable screen presence. In the end, Khalifa is not truly concerned with tearing down the structures of power it is more interested in asking who gets to inherit them. That tension lies at the heart of the film, becoming both its greatest appeal and its most revealing flaw.
Ultimately, Khalifa succeeds not because it offers a clear eyed critique of power, but because it understands the irresistible allure of those who possess it. The film is at once fascinated by corruption and critical of it, drawn to the mythology of its protagonist even as it gestures toward the systems that create men like him. Its contradictions may prevent it from becoming a truly incisive political drama, but they also give the film its peculiar energy. With its polished craft, commanding performances, and unmistakable star power, Khalifa delivers an engaging commercial experience. It may not completely dismantle the legend it creates but perhaps that was never its intention. Instead, it leaves us with a more intriguing question : When power, crime, and charisma become inseparable, where does the man end and the legend begin?
