Witness a rare yet sublime cinematic view centred upon death at its threshold, strongly magnified through Pauly Valsan and Dileesh Pothan’s hauntingly visceral performances in Leo Thaddeus’s Busan entry.
The priest comes in, sits next to Varkichan (Dileesh Pothan) on his deathbed, and asks him to start confessing. Varkichan says that thinking about his past actually makes him feel good—and the priest is taken aback. He tells him to confess his sins one by one. Varkichan refuses—he doesn’t think he did anything wrong, and plenty of people wronged him. The priest reluctantly asks him to forgive them. Varkichan resists, saying the time hasn’t come yet. Then the Father looks at him and says something that stays with him: “We do not decide the time.”
Cinematic treatments of death are notably versatile, encompassing multiple levels of depth and nuance, often unsettling. Consider Michel Franco’s Chronic, Lijo Jose Pellissery’s Ee.Ma.Yau from the dark-comedy genre, Ramalingam Gowtham’s Members of the Problematic Family, or Don Palathara’s Shavam—works that linger and hold us across death’s many dimensions. Death is so complex that deciphering its mechanism requires not merely time, but a moment of realization. Busan’s entry The Soul Whisperer falls within a familiar category—introducing Theresia (Pauly Valsan), a pacifying figure, a releaser of those on the verge of death. Known as the soul whisperer, she assists them in moving on, becoming the bridge to the other side. She inhabits her own world—her plants, her life, her peaceful atmosphere. She is then summoned to perform her task for Varkichan, who lies nearly on his deathbed. However, as Theresia strives to pray for him and Varkichan intermittently drifts in and out of consciousness, Theresia realizes that Varkichan is not an easy person to deal with. Theresia searches for her own way to do what must be done—and Varkichan holds his desires close, reluctant. Then a conversation begins, back and forth, and moments are changed forever.
Director Leo Thaddeus’s approach is neither upfront nor rushed, and certainly not hyperactive—he believes in the mechanism of slow burn, as evidenced by his exquisite direction in this film. We witness Theresia’s whispers, singing, and wishes—her role as a kind of mortal angel, guiding soon-to-depart souls across the bridge. And within that quiet space, the director reveals the fragile connection between whisperer and soul—a charm, a precision, blending peace and comfort into the tangled traits of two people. The film presents a perspective in which an individual’s traits, character, and experience cease to hold significance on the deathbed—it becomes a void, a space that dissolves them freely, leaving only lone souls inhabiting a motionless physical form. From another vantage, as we observe Varkichan intermittently waking and conveying messages to the whisperer, we come to understand the memories, regrets, clashes, rifts, wishes, and confusion—all the unexpected moments of being bedridden. This conveys a precise truth: what is displayed externally may not correspond to the inner self, which is connected to the subconscious realm. There is no concealment or masking at the threshold of death. Everything emerges honestly.
Swaroop Shoba Shankar’s cinematography is classy and expressive—figuratively and metaphorically. Carlo Fransisco Manatad’s precise editing explains the peace of death and adds to the tranquillity, making the film both peaceful and unsettling. The performances from Pauly Valsan and Dileesh Pothan make us believe in humanity and in the small complexities of emotion—exquisitely handled by both actors together.
For all it’s worth, The Soul Whisperer is a masterful construction that addresses death and redemption in the most sublime manner possible—a singular experience that, though a slow burn, burns the heart intensely. The film silently conveys that everyone has a past—some painful, some submissive. Some carry it to the grave, while others use it as fuel to move forward. And after all, we are humans with empathy rooted in our hearts—ready to blossom in the rarest moment.
The 31st edition of BUSAN International Film Festival was held from October 6th to 15th, 2026.
