Mirage Review: Jeethu Joseph's Psychological Maze is Brilliant, Until It Gets Lost in Itself

Mirage Review: Jeethu Joseph's Psychological Maze is Brilliant, Until It Gets Lost in Itself

By Rashesh, Founder & Chief Critic | Published: 27-10-2025

There are directors who make films, and then there are architects who build cinematic worlds. Jeethu Joseph has always belonged to the latter category. From the moment Georgekutty first buried a secret under the floor of a half-built police station in Drishyam, we, the audience, became willing participants in his meticulously crafted games of logic and deception. He doesn’t just tell stories; he constructs elaborate, high-stakes puzzle boxes and invites us inside. His latest offering, Mirage, is perhaps his most claustrophobic and psychologically vicious puzzle yet—a two-hander thriller that locks its characters, and us, in a room with their past. For 90% of its runtime, it is a searing, nail-biting masterclass in tension. It’s that final, crucial 10% where the architect’s hand begins to tremble, threatening to bring the entire, brilliant structure down.

Mirage opens not with a bang, but with a disorienting gasp. Anand (Asif Ali) and Meera (Aparna Balamurali), an estranged couple on the brink of a bitter divorce, awaken on the dusty floor of a single, windowless room. The air is thick with the scent of decay and regret. They have no memory of how they arrived, their phones are gone, and the only door is bolted from the outside. Their sole connection to the world is a crackling voice from an old intercom, a dispassionate puppet master who informs them that they are part of a “game.” To earn their freedom, they must complete a series of tasks, each designed to force them to confront the very lies, betrayals, and unspoken truths that shattered their marriage.

This is not a review that will simply recount the plot. To do so would be a disservice to the intricate clockwork of Joseph’s design. Instead, we must take out our cinematic scalpels and deconstruct this film piece by piece—its direction, its visual language, its screenplay, and the towering performances that hold it all together.

The Director's Crucible: Jeethu Joseph's Unmistakable Signature

Though the film stars Asif Ali and Aparna Balamurali, its most dominant presence is Jeethu Joseph himself. His directorial control is absolute, turning a single-room setting—a death knell for lesser filmmakers—into a sprawling psychological landscape. Joseph understands that true tension isn’t about what you see; it’s about what you don’t see, and what you are forced to imagine. He eschews cheap jump scares in favour of a slow, creeping dread that seeps into your bones.

Consider the scene following the first task. The voice on the intercom falls silent. Joseph holds the shot for an uncomfortably long time. We watch Anand pacing frantically while Meera sits frozen, her eyes wide. There is no music, only the sound of Anand’s frantic footsteps on the wooden floor and the faint hum of a faulty light fixture. In this silence, the room expands and contracts. The shadows in the corners seem to lengthen, to harbour intent. This is Joseph’s signature: he directs the negative space, the quiet moments between the chaos, and makes them scream louder than any scripted line.

Compared to the sprawling, real-world logic of Drishyam or the cat-and-mouse chase of Memories, Mirage is an intensely internalized film. Joseph isn’t just manipulating evidence and alibis here; he is manipulating memory and emotion. He uses the camera as an instrument of interrogation, often placing it in tight, suffocating close-ups that deny the characters—and the audience—any escape. It’s a bold, confident piece of filmmaking that proves he is a master of suspense, regardless of scale.

A Prison of Memories: Cinematography and Production Design

A film this contained lives or dies by its visual grammar, and cinematographer Satheesh Kurup (a frequent Joseph collaborator) does career-defining work here. The visual palette of Mirage is a deliberate assault on comfort. The room is bathed in a sickly, desaturated light, a purgatorial palette of muted greys, rusted browns, and faded blues. The only source of warmth is a single, bare bulb that casts long, predatory shadows, turning a simple room into a chiaroscuro nightmare.

Kurup’s framing is relentlessly claustrophobic. He frequently shoots through doorways, from behind broken furniture, or using reflections in a shard of glass, constantly reminding us that we are observers to a deeply private unravelling. One shot, in particular, is staggering in its impact: as Anand is forced to confess a devastating secret, the camera doesn’t show him. It remains locked on Meera’s face. We see every micro-expression flicker across Aparna Balamurali’s features—disbelief, dawning horror, heartbreak, and finally, a chillingly cold resolve. By denying us the sight of the confessor and focusing solely on the impact of his words, the scene becomes exponentially more powerful. The production design contributes heavily, turning the set into a third character. The peeling wallpaper, the water stains on the ceiling, the broken music box at the center of one task—every element is a visual metaphor for the decay of Anand and Meera’s relationship.

Fractured Souls: Asif Ali and Aparna Balamurali's Tour de Force

A film like Mirage is an actor’s gauntlet, and both Asif Ali and Aparna Balamurali deliver performances that are nothing short of breathtaking. They are not just acting; they are engaged in a raw, emotional war of attrition.

Asif Ali, an actor who has spent years proving his incredible range, delivers one of his most complex and vulnerable performances. His Anand is not an easy man to root for. He is a cocktail of arrogance, guilt, and panicked desperation. Ali masterfully peels back these layers. In the film's first half, he is defiant, trying to project control. But watch his body language after the second task fails. His shoulders slump, the bravado evaporates, and he shrinks into himself, becoming a boy lost in the dark. It’s a painful, honest portrayal of a man being systematically stripped of all his defenses, a far cry from the charming everyman of Kettyolaanu Ente Malakha or the stoic resolve of his character in Uyare.

If Asif Ali is the exposed nerve, Aparna Balamurali is the unbending spine. After her National Award-winning turn in Soorarai Pottru, expectations are sky-high, and she soars past them. Her Meera is not a damsel in distress. She is intelligent, observant, and resilient. For the first act, she is a reactor, processing the horror of their situation. But a distinct shift occurs midway through. A quiet strength emerges, her fear hardening into a cold, analytical fury. Balamurali conveys this entire arc through her eyes. There is a scene where she challenges one of Anand’s carefully constructed lies, and the gentle, wounded woman we first met is gone, replaced by a prosecutor who will not be denied the truth. Their chemistry is electric, not with romance, but with the painful intimacy of two people who know exactly how to hurt one another.

The Unreliable Narrator: Where the Screenplay Falters

For all its technical and performative brilliance, the screenplay, also penned by Joseph, is where Mirage stumbles. The setup is flawless. The central conceit is a powerful engine for character revelation, turning a high-concept thriller into a profound marital drama. The tasks they are forced to perform are wickedly clever, each one a metaphor for a moment of failure in their relationship.

The problem lies in the final fifteen minutes. Jeethu Joseph, the master plotter, feels the need to explain everything. The meticulously built ambiguity and psychological tension are sacrificed for a final twist that, while clever on paper, feels both overly convoluted and emotionally hollow. It introduces external factors and motivations that weren’t sufficiently foreshadowed, requiring a lengthy, almost breathless monologue of exposition to tie everything together. It transforms a film that was about the "why" of a broken relationship into a film about the "how" of a contrived plot. It’s a classic case of the narrative architect showing us the blueprints after we’ve already toured the magnificent house. The emotional catharsis we crave is replaced by intellectual admiration for the plot’s mechanics, and that’s a poor trade. It’s the one element that keeps Mirage from achieving the timeless perfection of Drishyam.

Final Verdict

Mirage is a frustratingly brilliant film. It is a masterfully directed, visually stunning, and superbly acted psychological thriller that holds you in an iron grip for the vast majority of its runtime. Asif Ali and Aparna Balamurali deliver tour de force performances that will be remembered and discussed for years. It is a testament to Jeethu Joseph’s unparalleled skill as a craftsman of suspense. However, the film's over-engineered final act keeps it from true greatness, opting for a clever explanation when a resonant emotional truth was within its grasp. It is a near-masterpiece that chooses, in its final moments, to be a complex puzzle instead. A fascinating, frustrating, and ultimately unforgettable experience.

Rating: 4 / 5 Stars

Who Should Watch This?

• WATCH IT IMMEDIATELY IF: You are a fan of Jeethu Joseph’s puzzle-box filmmaking, love intense psychological thrillers that prioritize dread over gore, and want to witness two of Malayalam cinema's finest actors operating at the peak of their powers.

• APPROACH WITH CAUTION IF: You demand perfectly logical, airtight endings. The final reveal requires a significant suspension of disbelief that might frustrate viewers who appreciated the grounded realism of the preceding two hours.

• AVOID IF: You are looking for a light-hearted watch, a straightforward action film, or a story with clear-cut heroes and villains. Mirage operates exclusively in the grey, and it is an emotionally taxing journey.

The Woman in Cabin 10 Review: Keira Knightley Drowns in a Sea of Exquisite Style and Icy Suspicion

The Woman in Cabin 10 Review: Keira Knightley Drowns in a Sea of Exquisite Style and Icy Suspicion

By Rashesh, Founder & Chief Critic, CharotarDaily.com

There are certain stories that feel destined for the silver screen. They possess a potent, almost tangible atmosphere that leaps off the page, begging to be translated into light and shadow. Ruth Ware’s 2016 novel, The Woman in Cabin 10, was one such story—a claustrophobic, gas-lit nightmare set on the deceptively placid waters of the North Sea. For years, cinephiles and mystery lovers have waited, wondering who could possibly capture its unique blend of psychological fragility and high-stakes tension.

The answer, it turns out, is director Joe Wright, re-teaming with his most iconic muse, Keira Knightley. The result is a film that is, at once, a breathtakingly beautiful piece of cinema and a frustratingly polished adaptation. It’s a thriller that meticulously builds its cage out of high-gloss mahogany and polished brass, so stunning to look at that you almost forget you’re trapped inside. As a long-time admirer of both Wright’s visual panache and Knightley’s nervy intensity, I walked into the theatre with sky-high expectations. I walked out wrestling with a complex admiration, convinced I’d seen a masterclass in filmmaking that somehow, almost criminally, misses the raw, bloody heart of its own story.

This is not a simple review. This is a deconstruction.

Direction: Joe Wright’s Gilded Cage

Joe Wright does not make movies; he crafts cinematic ballets. From the breathtaking Dunkirk long-take in Atonement to the theatrical artifice of Anna Karenina, his signature is an almost obsessive-compulsive attention to aesthetic detail and fluid, mesmerizing camera movement. In The Woman in Cabin 10, this signature is both the film’s greatest asset and its most profound flaw.

Wright wisely chooses not to rush into the central mystery. The film’s opening act is a masterwork of establishing our protagonist Lo Blacklock’s (Knightley) fractured psyche. The pre-cruise burglary in her London flat is not the jump-scare affair a lesser director might have chosen. Instead, Wright and his long-time cinematographer Seamus McGarvey orchestrate a single, disorienting Steadicam shot that follows Lo through her apartment. The camera clings to her, mimicking her rising anxiety as she notices a slightly ajar door, a misplaced object. The sound design is muted, focusing on the creak of floorboards and her own ragged breathing. When the intruder finally appears, it’s a chaotic, violent rupture in this carefully controlled atmosphere. The scene doesn’t just tell us Lo is traumatized; it makes the audience feel her violation and subsequent paranoia long before she ever steps foot on the cruise liner, the Aurora Borealis.

However, once aboard the ship, Wright’s aestheticism begins to work against the story’s gritty core. Consider the pivotal scene: Lo hearing the "splash" of what she believes is a body being thrown overboard from the adjoining Cabin 10. In the novel, this moment is stark, auditory, and deeply ambiguous. Wright, ever the visualist, cannot resist dramatizing it. He gives us a fleeting, almost dreamlike shot from Lo's perspective through the balcony partition: a dark shape, a pale arm, and the moonlit spray of water, all rendered in a disturbingly beautiful slow-motion. It’s a gorgeous shot, reminiscent of the fountain scene in Atonement. But in that context, the beauty heightened the tragic romance; here, it aestheticizes a moment of potential brutal violence. It sanitizes the horror, transforming a raw, terrifying event into a piece of morbid art. This becomes a recurring issue. Wright is so in love with the opulence of the ship and the stark beauty of the Norwegian fjords that the grime of the crime feels perpetually out of focus. He’s filming a ghost story in a palace, when the source material was about a murder in a floating prison.

Cinematography: The Art of Drowning

Seamus McGarvey’s cinematography is, without question, utterly magnificent. He brilliantly captures the film’s central visual paradox: the terrifying agoraphobia of the open sea versus the suffocating claustrophobia of the ship's interior. The exterior shots of the Aurora are breathtaking, showing the vessel as a tiny, insignificant speck against the colossal, indifferent granite cliffs and the churning, inky-black water. These shots powerfully establish Lo’s isolation; there is no escape, no one to call, nothing but the cold, unforgiving elements.

Inside the ship, McGarvey’s lens becomes a predator. The hallways are intentionally overlit in some areas and plunged into deep shadow in others, creating a disorienting labyrinth where threats could emerge from any corner. He makes extensive use of reflections—in polished tabletops, mirrored walls, and the ever-present porthole windows. In a standout scene where Lo confronts the ship's head of security, the camera frames them so that we see not only their faces but also their distorted reflections in the glass behind them, visually reinforcing the theme of duplicity and hidden identities. The colour palette is a carefully controlled spectrum of cold blues, sterile whites, and sickly greens, making the occasional splash of crimson—a guest's dress, a smear of blood on a carpet—feel like a violent intrusion. The visual language is so strong, so articulate, that it often communicates Lo’s paranoia more effectively than the script itself.

Screenplay: The Perils of Streamlining

Adapting a novel heavy on internal monologue is a Herculean task, and on paper, hiring a writer like Gillian Flynn (who so expertly adapted her own Gone Girl) seems like a stroke of genius. Flynn’s screenplay for The Woman in Cabin 10 is a lean, propulsive machine. She smartly condenses several of the novel’s red-herring subplots and sharpens the dialogue, giving the ensemble of wealthy, suspicious guests a venomous wit that feels distinctly Flynn-esque. The back-and-forth between Lo and her ex-boyfriend, fellow journalist Ben (played with a reliable charm by Sam Claflin), is given more weight, creating a tangible emotional anchor that the novel sometimes lacked.

But in this surgical streamlining, something vital is lost. The novel’s power comes from being trapped inside Lo’s head, experiencing her mounting anxiety, her self-doubt, her reliance on alcohol, and her professional insecurities in excruciating, first-person detail. The film, by necessity, has to externalize this. It does so through Knightley’s performance and some cleverly placed visual cues, but it can’t fully replicate the book’s slow-burn descent into paranoia. Flynn’s script moves at a clip, hitting the plot beats with ruthless efficiency. As a result, Lo’s investigation occasionally feels less like a desperate, fear-fueled search for the truth and more like a conventional cinematic mystery. The ambiguity of her mental state—is she a reliable witness or an unraveling trauma victim?—is presented, but never explored with the depth the source material afforded. We are watching her panic, rather than panicking with her.

Performances: Knightley, A Symphony of Anxiety

This film rests entirely on Keira Knightley’s slender shoulders, and she carries the weight with a ferocious commitment. This role is tailor-made for her specific brand of intelligent, high-strung fragility. In the early scenes, she is magnificent, capturing the low-grade hum of a woman constantly on edge. A scene where a well-meaning guest grabs her arm unexpectedly causes her to physically recoil with such authentic terror that the entire audience flinches with her. She is a master of conveying a storm of emotions with a simple darting of the eyes or a tremor in her voice.

Her performance is a spiritual successor to her Oscar-nominated work in The Imitation Game, where she also played a brilliant woman constrained and disbelieved by the men around her. However, as Lo becomes more frantic, Knightley occasionally slips into familiar mannerisms—the jutting chin of defiance, the wide-eyed stare of hysteria—that feel less like Lo Blacklock and more like "Keira Knightley Performing Distress." It’s a powerful performance, but one that feels, at times, like a compilation of her greatest hits rather than a wholly original creation.

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, particularly a chillingly ambiguous turn from Matthew Goode as the enigmatic financier who occupied Cabin 9. He oozes a silken menace that makes him the perfect red herring, or perhaps, something more.

Final Verdict

Joe Wright's The Woman in Cabin 10 is a cinematic triumph and an adaptive misstep. It is a stunningly beautiful, impeccably crafted, and superbly acted thriller that prioritizes style over substance, and atmosphere over authentic dread. The film is so immaculately polished that it buffs away the novel's most compelling feature: its grimy, desperate, psychological messiness. Wright has created a Faberge egg of a thriller—exquisite to behold, intricately designed, but ultimately hollow. It is a very, very good film that stops just short of being a great adaptation.

Rating: 3.5 / 5 Stars

Who Should Watch This?

• WATCH IT IF: You are a fan of director Joe Wright’s distinct visual style and appreciate a thriller that values mood and aesthetics as much as plot. If you love a powerhouse central performance and want to see Keira Knightley at the top of her game, this is a must-see.

• SKIP IT IF: You are a die-hard purist of Ruth Ware’s novel and will be frustrated by the changes made for a more cinematic pace. If you prefer your mysteries to be gritty, raw, and unvarnished, the film’s high-gloss sheen might leave you cold.

Murder Mindfully: A Chilling Descent into Obsession

Murder Mindfully: A Chilling Descent into Obsession

Murder Mindfully is a psychological thriller web series that delves into the darkest corners of the human psyche. Directed by the visionary Boris Kunz, this series stars Emily Cox and Tom Schilling in captivating performances that will leave you questioning the nature of love and obsession.

The series follows a seemingly ordinary couple whose lives take a sinister turn. As the plot unfolds, a web of deceit, manipulation, and deadly secrets begins to unravel. The characters are complex and morally ambiguous, making it difficult to determine who is the victim and who is the villain.

One of the most striking aspects of Murder Mindfully is its stunning cinematography. The dark, brooding atmosphere perfectly complements the series' suspenseful tone. The meticulous attention to detail in every frame creates a visually stunning experience that draws the viewer into the story.

The performances in Murder Mindfully are exceptional. Emily Cox and Tom Schilling deliver powerful and nuanced performances that bring their characters to life. Their on-screen chemistry is palpable, adding depth and complexity to their relationship.

Murder Mindfully is a must-watch for fans of psychological thrillers. It's a gripping and thought-provoking series that will keep you guessing until the very end.

The Sinner: A Chilling Psychological Thriller

The Sinner: A Chilling Psychological Thriller

Netflix’s The Sinner is a gripping psychological thriller that delves deep into the darkest corners of the human psyche. With Bill Pullman delivering a career-defining performance as Detective Harry Ambrose, the series captivates audiences with its complex characters, intricate plot, and unsettling atmosphere.

Unraveling the Mystery

Each season of The Sinner presents a standalone case, but the core of the series lies in the enigmatic character of Detective Ambrose. A seasoned investigator with a troubled past, Ambrose is drawn to perplexing crimes that defy explanation. The series masterfully explores the psychological motivations behind seemingly inexplicable acts of violence.

The Sinner excels in creating a sense of unease and suspense. The show's ability to maintain a balance between character development and plot progression is commendable. With each season, viewers are introduced to new characters and intricate mysteries that keep them hooked from start to finish.

Stellar Performances and Compelling Narratives

Bill Pullman’s portrayal of Detective Ambrose is nothing short of exceptional. His nuanced performance captures the character's complexity and vulnerability, making him a compelling and empathetic figure. Jessica Hecht and Dohn Norwood also deliver standout performances in their respective seasons, adding depth and intrigue to the narrative.

The Sinner is a testament to the power of storytelling. It’s a series that challenges viewers to question their own understanding of human nature and the complexities of the mind. While each season offers a unique story, the underlying theme of exploring the darkness within remains constant.

A Must-Watch for Thriller Fans

If you're a fan of psychological thrillers that delve into the depths of the human mind, The Sinner is a must-watch. The series offers a compelling blend of mystery, suspense, and character study that will keep you engaged from start to finish.

Have you watched The Sinner? Who is your favorite character? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Blink Twice: A Psychological Thriller to Watch Out For

Blink Twice: A Psychological Thriller to Watch Out For

Introduction

Blink Twice is an upcoming psychological thriller that has already generated significant buzz in the film industry. With its intriguing premise and talented cast, this movie promises to keep audiences on the edge of their seats.

A Chilling Tale of Suspense

The plot of Blink Twice revolves around [briefly describe the main plot without revealing spoilers]. The film delves into the complexities of the human mind, exploring themes of paranoia, obsession, and the blurred lines between reality and illusion.

A Stellar Cast

Blink Twice boasts a talented ensemble cast. Their performances are expected to elevate the film to new heights, bringing depth and authenticity to their characters.

A Masterful Blend of Genres

The movie skillfully blends elements of psychological thriller, suspense, and drama to create a unique and captivating viewing experience. With its atmospheric cinematography and haunting score, Blink Twice promises to immerse audiences in a world of uncertainty and fear.

Anticipation Builds

As the release date approaches, excitement for Blink Twice continues to grow. Fans are eager to see how this film will compare to other psychological thrillers and whether it will live up to the hype.

Conclusion

Blink Twice is undoubtedly one of the most anticipated films of the year. Its intriguing premise, talented cast, and masterful storytelling make it a must-watch for fans of the genre.