Mammootty gets Padma Bhushan — but does the Kerala icon really need it to prove he’s a legend?

Dubai: In Pranchiyettan & the Saint, Kerala matinee idol Mammootty plays a wildly successful rice merchant who has everything—money, power, social standing—except the one thing he desperately wants: elite acceptance.

In the movie, he plays a tacky school dropout, yes, but he’s also self-made, aspirational, and acutely aware of where society places people like him. So Pranchiyettan decides it’s time to class it up.

For him, a Padma award isn’t just an honour. It’s social polish. A Padma Shri or Padma Bhushan, he believes, will finally make him “respectable”. The joke, of course, is that he never gets it despite trying to buy a 'Padma Shri', one of India's highest civilian award. And in trying too hard, he becomes the joke. The film laughs—gently but firmly—at our obsession with validation and the idea that respect can be stamped and approved.

Cut to real life, and the irony is delicious. Earlier this weekend, Mammootty was bestowed the highly-coveted Padma Bhushan by Indian government. And unlike Pranchiyettan, he didn’t chase it, lobby for it, or need it. He didn’t buy respect. He earned it, with one great role in a movie at a time.

At 74, this is an actor who is not slowing down, not coasting, not playing it safe. In fact, every time I step out of a Mammootty-led film these days, I marvel at how taking risks and creative gambles are his thing now.

 Just look at the films he’s choosing now. In the most stirring Malayalam movies to release in the last few years, Kaadhal, Mammootty plays a man on the verge of divorce, quietly closeted, hiding his sexuality in a conservative town. More recently, in the intriguing serial killer drama Kalamkaval, he plays a cop who is also a serial killer, murdering not for ideology or trauma, but for lust—for the cheap, disturbing thrill of it. And then Bramayugam—a stark black-and-white fever dream where Mammootty plays the devil incarnate, a monster so hypnotic you can’t look away.

Bramayugam even found a moment in an Oscars segment—an extraordinary thing for a Malayalam film, let alone a monochrome horror fantasy. Watching Mammootty in it is a reminder of what transformation really looks like. He makes us forget his iconic superstar status with each riveting and compelling characters on screen. Playing it safe isn't his style anymore.

Somewhere in his seventies, Mammootty has entered the best phase of his career. If Hollywood has Robert De Niro or Anthony Hopkins—men who grew more daring, more complex, and more interesting with age—what we have is Mammootty and Mohanlal. Two actors who treat age not as a deadline, but as freedom.

And Mammootty, especially, made a decision many of his peers didn’t. There was a time when Malayali movie fans were rightfully uncomfortable watching men in their 50s and 60s (here's looking at you Mohanlal, Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan) romance women in their 20s or early 30s.

Mammootty seemed to have understood that such roles wouldn't take him far. So he stepped away from that comfort zone and took on complex, layered roles. He wasn't particular about being liked on-screen! He chose being twisted over syrupy love stories. He reveled in characters who are broken, dangerous, closeted, compromised—and real.

That choice matters. Because at an age when most actors lean into nostalgia or self-importance, Mammootty is still taking risks. Still trusting the audience. Still believing cinema can do better.

Yes, the Padma Bhushan is a moment of pride—for Malayalam cinema and for Malayalis everywhere. It comes soon after Mohanlal received the Dadasaheb Phalke Award. Together, these two—sometimes pegged as rivals, always equals—are not just our past. They are very much our present.

But let’s be clear. The Padma Bhushan is recognition, but Mammootty’s career is conviction. It is built on risk, reinvention, and an almost stubborn refusal to become comfortable. Awards don’t define that. They just catch up to it.

So yes, the Padma Bhushan is welcome. It’s deserved. It’s a proud moment, but Mammootty didn’t need it. He was already ours.