Welcome to Lisa, a Malayalam horror flick from 1978 that’s equal parts spooky ghost story and unintentional soap opera, directed by the inscrutably named Baby (yes, that’s the director’s name, not a warning). This film is so deeply rooted in the conventions of Indian cinema, it might just be the only horror movie that includes dance numbers and melodrama powerful enough to possess your common sense.
The plot? Lakshmi, a painfully shy village girl, moves into a working women’s hostel in town. It’s all very Girls Just Wanna Have Fun—except with fewer jokes and more possession. Enter Lisa, a dead dancer whose spirit apparently has a serious vendetta against anyone remotely connected to her tragic death. After an incident involving some very “unknown forces,” Lakshmi starts dressing like a Bollywood superstar and dancing like she just lost her mind, much to her roommate Kala’s horror—and probably the audience’s confusion.
What follows is a confusing cocktail of murder, revenge, and possession, with a side of classic ‘70s Indian melodrama. Lakshmi’s fiancé Murali is understandably perplexed, because his fiancé has seemingly been swapped with a ghostly disco queen who can’t get enough of the dance floor or the local singer Johnny (Lisa’s beau, who apparently never got over her death—because nothing says eternal love like haunting your ex’s new flame).
The murders—because yes, it wouldn’t be a horror film without some body count—are bizarrely tacked on and investigated by police officer Suresh, who spends most of his time suspiciously eyeing Lakshmi as if she’s auditioning for the role of “Most Likely to Be Haunted.” The supernatural suspense takes a backseat as the story lumbers toward a finale featuring an exorcist (because Indian horror loves a good exorcism scene) who pretty much lays out the ghostly backstory in a monologue that’s longer than the actual haunting.
Special shoutout to the dramatic climax, where Lakshmi fully embraces her demon alter ego and chaos ensues—complete with fire, screams, and the kind of CGI effects that look like a fever dream rendered on a shoestring budget. Spoiler: the exorcist convinces Lisa the ghost to vacate the premises, and peace is restored—at least until the ghostly lovers reunite in heaven via an accident that’s both poetic and questionably convenient.
Musically, Lisa tries to be a horror-musical hybrid, which results in several awkward dance numbers that feel less like mood-setting and more like a brief detour to an entirely different movie. You half expect the possessed Lakshmi to break into a full Bollywood-style number titled “I’m Haunted and I Know It.”
In the end, Lisa is a curious blend of horror, revenge thriller, and melodrama so thick you could slice it with a knife. It’s entertaining if you’re in the mood for a possession story that doubles as a musical and occasionally forgets which genre it wants to be. For fans of ’70s Indian cinema and ghost stories that come with a side of disco, this one’s a wild ride. For everyone else? Prepare to be confused, occasionally creeped out, and endlessly entertained by the sheer audacity of it all.
