Is this the End of Mammootty?

Stardom is fickle; occasionally lifting its achievers high up in the air only to throw them mercilessly down the hill. Sustained survival at the heights isn’t easy for it is dependent on the varying tastes and moods of an external source, a not-very-predictable audience. With eleven duds in a row and a dry spell lasting over 2 years, Mammootty appears to have lost his footing. Such a showing has given rise to a persistent question: Is this the end of Mammootty?

The selection of pathetic scripts, in particular, has helped tremendously in the downfall. One, wrongly attempting the ultimate stunt in anticipation of wet kerchiefs results instead in brickbats, boos, and walkouts. Another spoils the comeback of his successful co-star from the past. While two others with a relevant social theme suffer for want of depth.Well, emphatically, no. Though stardom is the charisma that attracts multitudes, the failure of a film is not necessarily the failure of its star. Indeed, Mammootty has always needed to rely on a range of factors other than his star power, never having belonged like any of his Tamil counterparts to the league of stars with a cult following.

Stardom is the charisma that attracts multitudes. Acting is absolute in that it relies majorly on itself for success.

Acting is absolute in that it relies majorly on itself for success. It is strange, therefore, that during the period under observation, far from re-inventing himself, Mammootty has simply chosen to rehash his past characters, such as, the tough cop, the man with a lisp, and the man with a noticeable dialect. To his credit, his acting prowess has showed no trace of decline. Consistently decent acting alone, however, is no guarantee for the revival of stardom.

The times have changed dramatically and have produced a restless new-generation audience that is not easily thrilled or fooled by outdated antics. They desire freshness and constant challenges. And show no signs of forever idolizing ancient conservative icons.

In such a scenario, three likely ways appear in which Mammootty would reclaim the neon lights. Playing a unique character in a revolutionary script—riding in alone, or pick-a-backing on another star or his own son. Meanwhile, the law of probability stacked in his favor, a trickle of minor hits ought to follow his latest release; ones that may not allow him even a whiff of his zenith but shall ensure that he does not fade out with a whimper into oblivion.

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