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Oliver Twist is a gently intimate drama about family, memory, and the pull between a life online and a life at home. A 60-year-old man who is noticeably challenged by the speed and glare of modern technology, he spends his days helping his wife around the house, fixing broken things, and tending a small garden. The couple lives with their two sons, and a quiet household that includes an aquarium with a fish named Mickey. The aging grandfather figure, known in the family as Appachan, suffers from dementia and relies on a walker, needing help with basic care. His daughter-in-law, Kuttiyamma, is a retired nurse who keeps the house running and quietly anchors the family.

In the film’s frame, a glossy, almost nostalgic family photo is shown: Appachan, Oliver Twist, Kuttiyamma, and their two sons, one of whom is Anthony. Anthony lives in a cluttered apartment far from home. He is a gifted, albeit restless, scriptwriter who once enjoyed a grand success two years ago as an architect-turned-writer, but his second script stalls under the crushing weight of a producer’s ultimatum and a constant tide of social-media notifications that pull at his attention every moment. His girlfriend, Priya, is part of a tense, complicated personal life that frequently bleeds into his creative process.

On Anthony’s first day back at home, distraction gnaws at him from the moment he tries to think about a story. A video chat with his brother, Charles, while they shop for a new fish tank, underscores the family’s dynamics: Oliver beams with pride at his son’s online presence, to the embarrassment of Charles, who quickly ushers him away. The scene sets up a tension that threads through the whole story: the generations arguing about what success looks like, and whose standards matter.

As the day unfolds, Anthony begins to measure himself against Priya’s father, Joseph, a figure he admires, and he ends up insulting Oliver in a way that feels removed from truth or care. Oliver’s sorrow is palpable; he watches his elder son’s dismay with a pain that seems to come from the heart rather than the moment, and he leaves the home in silence, standing at the gate with tears he hides from his family.

That night, Oliver’s memory returns to a moment he has kept private, a memory he hopes to share but finds it hard to put into words. He tries again and again to connect with Anthony about this extraordinary event, but the words won’t come easily. Meanwhile, Anthony seeks feedback on his script from a superstar, Vishal, who politely dismisses the premise as unrelatable and dull. Frustration spills over when Anthony feels misunderstood; he lashes out after Vishal’s lack of engagement. Oliver records the outburst as a live Facebook video, inviting a flood of online hate and leaving him sleepless and deeply unsettled about having harmed his son’s career.

In response, Oliver begins a personal journey: he attends therapy sessions and joins Tai Chi classes, and he surprisingly becomes more proficient with smartphones, much to the family’s suspicion and later, to some quiet acceptance. Following Joseph’s advice, Anthony writes a handwritten apology to Vishal, with Oliver’s input guiding the craft of the note. Yet it is Oliver who chooses to deepen a remembered story, a tale he once lived and now tests again in conversation with his family.

The story Oliver revisits centers on a life-or-death moment when a woman and her child faced a deadly disease. With his best friend, Suryan, he crosses a river teeming with wild elephants, carrying the woman and her child on a large cooking vessel. They reach a car owner’s home and hurry toward the hospital. The journey is perilous: when the car starts to roll backward toward a cliff, a stone jams the mechanism just in time, and they manage to get the sick child to doctors who declare the child’s life safe. This tale—conveyed and recounted—serves as a moral counterpoint to Anthony’s social-media-fueled anxieties, a reminder that some truths live beyond screens and feeds.

Anthony listens but remains skeptical, and his skepticism is mirrored in the family’s reaction: Kuttiyamma grows angry with both sons for continually blaming their parents for their own misfortunes, a moment that exposes a fault line in the family’s dynamics. Even Charles, who hadn’t yet engaged with the deeper truth of the story, senses the toll of the debate on Oliver and the family’s cohesion.

On Joseph’s 50th birthday, the family’s memory finds a hinge. His mother—who is also the keeper of the family history—recounts the same cover-story image and the tale behind it. This retelling reframes Anthony’s understanding: the impulse to perform a perfect self on social media is not a real measure of worth, and the film suggests that true belonging and strength come from being “perfectly imperfect” in the presence of those who matter most: home and family. The closing moments bring a quieter closure: Joseph’s mother arrives at Oliver’s home, bringing gratitude for the lives Oliver and Suryan saved, and for the truth that Anthony finally shares with his family—truth that shifts the family’s attention away from online validation and toward the enduring bonds that have always sustained them.

In the end, the movie leaves the audience with a contemplative sense of repair. It honors memory, resilience, and the small, stubborn acts of courage that repair frayed relationships. It treats longing and pride with care, and it places the healing in the space where family warmth persists—at home, where imperfect love can still feel steadfast and true. The film therefore becomes not just a story about a man learning to navigate a digital era, but a quiet meditation on how families navigate the terrain between pride, vulnerability, and forgiveness.