(Chuckles) I too don’t know what that means. I think the media coined the term. I started hearing the term after the release of Mahesh... (Maheshinte Prathikaram). Then it was used with a hashtag. Initially, I felt the word was used to mock me. Gradually, I started getting accustomed to the reality that it was used in a positive sense. Even now, I think there’s no clear definition of the term. Some people attribute it to my detailing in the films while others use the term for specific qualities in my characters.

I didn’t have any artistic background. My only connection to films was through my father, who worked as a film distributor’s representative, transporting film prints to cinemas. I was always film-obsessed and loved watching movies. My journey into filmmaking began when a friend was working on a short film and the director left midway. I was entrusted with the task. Though my early work wasn’t great, it sparked my interest in direction. I quit my job to pursue filmmaking full-time and spent three to four years working on small projects as an assistant director. However, I wasn’t satisfied with the work I was doing and there was a stressful period where I questioned my decision to join the industry. Despite the challenges, I persisted and continued to work towards my goal.

The two years at Kalady transformed me as a filmmaker and as a person. Syam (Pushkaran) often says that the person who went to Kalady and the one who returned are two different individuals. Other friends of mine have also said the same. While I can’t pinpoint exactly how I’ve changed, others have remarked on the difference. Perhaps it’s my outlook and understanding of things that have changed. After my time at Kalady, I started finding the happiness and satisfaction in my work that I had been missing as an assistant director. When I returned, I began landing roles in films like Salt N’ Pepper and resumed work as an assistant director. This time around, I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

I had no plan to act in movies. I didn’t even believe I could act. But at Kalady, it was compulsory. We have to cooperate with plays by others. That’s how I started acting in some plays. Gopan Chidambaram (writer-scenarist) was a teacher there. After my first play, Gopan maash started praising my acting. From that moment, I started gaining confidence in my acting. That was when they (the makers of Salt N’ Pepper) called me to act in the movie, saying I had the ‘look’ of a director. Had I not acted in the plays at Kalady, I would have declined the role.

To be honest, their support wasn’t exactly unconditional. They were happy I had secured a job in Bengaluru after studies. When I started pursuing filmmaking, I told them I was taking a one-year break, citing stress. However, one year turned into two, and slowly, family pressure began to mount. They’d try to dissuade me from taking to the film industry, but eventually, they came round to accept it as my calling and supported me wholeheartedly. Growing up, I was a huge film enthusiast and my father would often criticise movies for not being realistic. Whenever the family sat down to watch a film, my father would start criticising. He’d say things like, “This will only happen in a movie.” Looking back, maybe he was trying to discourage me from pursuing filmmaking. His realistic feedback was often traumatic. Whenever I watch a bad scene in any film, I worry he’s going to judge it... (smiles).

Possibly. There’s a lingering thought in my mind that I should make realistic films, driven by a deep-seated fear of his criticism. His comments left a lasting impression. Even now, maybe I’m trying to avoid his disapproval.

His perception has completely changed, he’s now a huge film enthusiast! He watches all my movies in cinemas and even gives feedback.

I think I receive roles that fit my persona. I’ve also gravitated towards realistic characters. My physique might also be a factor, as I don’t fit the typical ‘hero’ mould. I’m more comfortable playing characters that feel authentic and rooted in real life. When it comes to more unconventional or larger-than-life roles, I rely heavily on my trust in the director. If I believe in their vision, I’ll take on a role like Secretary Avaran or the character in Trance. Trust is key for me... if I’m unsure about a role, I’ll hesitate.

The idea for the film emerged during the shooting of Idukki Gold, where I was the associate director and Syam was the writer. We initially brainstormed a short film centred around cricket in Kollam but soon decided to explore a different concept... a short film featuring a fight scene, as a departure from the melodramatic films prevalent at the time. We crafted a story with a fight at the beginning and another at the end. Though I knew the character Thampan Purushan, a friend of Syam’s father, the story itself was new to me.

After an all-night discussion, we developed a structure by 3 am and decided to make a film. Starting with a thin line of a story allowed us to add depth and flesh out interesting aspects, shaping the narrative into what it eventually became.

We needed a pause in the film’s narrative and Syam suggested the national anthem scene based on a childhood memory. All of us have had similar experiences in school, wondering who would be the first to exit the classroom. I used to do something similar in Class 4. That felt like a natural fit for the film.

Syam overheard a conversation between his barber and a customer. One was a die-hard Mohanlal fan and the other a Mammootty fan. We actually used their real-life conversation in the movie.

To be frank, I’m not sure how to evaluate my own work. As a director, I’ve been selective about the projects I take up, only pursuing stories that I’m truly confident about. That could be why my filmography is short. After Joji, I took a six-month break, and I’ve been cautious about greenlighting new projects. I discuss ideas with Syam and others, but if the plot doesn’t resonate with me, we shelve it.

Though I was confident it would be a safe movie, I was doubtful whether it would be a commercial success, because it lacked commercial elements. But I thought that was the right time to take a risk. When (director) Aashiq Abu discussed the plot of 22 Female Kottayam after the success of Salt N’ Pepper, I told him I had reservations about its prospects though it was a good story. He said a big success gives us an opportunity to take a risk. Likewise, the commercial success of Maheshinte Prathikaram gave me the confidence to direct Thondimuthal.

Initially, we had Soubin in mind for the thief’s role and Fahadh Faasil for the character later played by Suraj Venjaramoodu. However, due to scheduling conflicts with Soubin’s film Parava, we considered recasting. We didn’t want to repeat the dynamic from Maheshinte Prathikaram, of Fahadh playing the husband’s role. So we explored other options. We briefly considered Vinayakan for the role but ultimately decided to cast Fahadh as the thief.

The film had many scenes inside a police station with 10–20 characters. We decided that instead of actors trying to portray police officers, it would be easier to cast real cops. They just had to be themselves, so it required less preparation. We held auditions among real police personnel. That approach not only made our job easier but also added authenticity to the film. These officers shared insights about actual police procedures, which helped correct mistakes and refine scenes.

No, that wasn’t our intention. We started with the idea of adapting Macbeth. During the pandemic, when everyone was feeling down, we wanted to create something in a controlled environment. We decided to adapt a play that would require minimal locations. I had previously worked on a portion of Macbeth during my time at Kalady, so we used that as a starting point and tried to set it in a contemporary context. However, as we progressed, we deviated from the original and focused on the story that organically emerged. The comparisons with Irakal surfaced only after the film’s release, but I don’t see many similarities beyond the setting. K G George sir’s works have deeply inspired us, so perhaps there was some subconscious influence.

We had great confidence in the project. The narrative was very interesting. The characters were very beautiful. I felt though the movie had many characters, each one had an important role to play. The making of the movie too was interesting, in that it brought back memories of my theatre days.

I spoke to him briefly as I’m not too well-versed in any language other than Malayalam (smiles).

My goal is simply to reflect society as I’ve experienced it. I don’t try to convey a political message. I don’t believe a film should deliver a message, we should feel it instead. If the aim is to give a message, then you might as well just give a speech. It’s up to the viewer to decide what message to take away.

I don’t believe anyone becomes good or bad just by watching a movie. If that were the case, many people would have become better because a lot of good films have been made. There might be a minor influence. And one film won’t do it. Watching 10 or 50 films of the same pattern might influence someone. A cultural change like that can happen slowly.

Filmmakers have the same responsibility as everyone else. I don’t believe this field is meant to fix society. I prefer to view filmmaking more as a professional endeavour. My goal within that is to present society interestingly.

Every decision is shaped through discussions. We don’t maintain rigid boundaries between us. Syam, though primarily a writer, has often taken on the role of a director. Similarly, I too have stepped into the role of a writer. We contribute collectively, especially when it comes to developing the plot.

I haven’t looked towards a single person that way. I believe that isn’t right. Many have inspired me, people like K G George, Padmarajan, Sathyan Anthikad and Priyadarshan.

That opinion usually comes from people who don’t watch movies seriously or in context. If you look at the history of Malayalam cinema, abusive language—or theri, as we say—has always been present in films. I don’t think 'Joji' used any particularly offensive or shocking language. Since it was released on an OTT platform, there was a bit more freedom from traditional censorship. Even then, only commonly used slang was used. I think it’s time we re-examined the politics behind the use of such slang in cinema.

I believe it plays a major role. A script is essentially the blueprint for the visual narrative. Syam writes the script in a way that I can understand and visualise. But the same script can be interpreted very differently by others. Unlike literature, a film script is a working document... it’s written for the director and technicians. That’s why I don’t usually give the script to actors unless they specifically ask for it. I prefer narrating the scenes to them instead. Through narration, we can gauge their understanding of the scene and make improvisations where necessary.

I don’t think so. With multiple reviewers out there, it’s unlikely they’ll all give negative opinions simultaneously. Besides, people often choose films based on reviews from critics they trust and whose tastes align with theirs. A single negative review can’t define a film’s fate. If a reviewer pans a film but the audience loves it, the audience’s word will prevail. In fact, many films have become hits through positive word-of-mouth publicity, despite initial negative reviews.

Controversies aren’t manufactured, they just happen. As someone involved in the film industry, I believe in creative freedom and I think everyone should fight for it.

Frankly, we can’t generalise about everyone. While some individuals might use drugs, it’s unlikely to be widespread. Can people sustain their lives and work while heavily into drugs? There are limits. Yes, some people do use drugs. And there are rumours about substance abuse on film sets, but this isn’t unique to Kochi. It’s a concerning situation.

I don’t think we can draw a strict line between the two, it’s more like a spectrum. For the commercial industry, the audience should be entertained in one way or the other. Or else, the film will be boring. If we take a film that depicts a good thing but lacks entertainment, it will become an arthouse or experimental cinema or one that caters to the tastes of a serious audience. I don’t think arthouse content will turn bad if taken in an entertainment mode.

It shouldn’t be a burden. Nothing should pressurise us, so that we can work creatively. Otherwise, we will gradually become something different from the original.

I believe continuous success can disconnect you from reality. To avoid that, I make a conscious effort to stay humble. When you’re successful, the feedback and perceptions from others can be skewed. Personally, I prepare myself for failures too, so I’m not caught off guard. I don’t feel like I’m a 'successful' director... I’ve only made three films. There are directors who have made over 100 films and are still going strong.

It’s an attempt to be involved in society. I have joined a PhD programme in acting at the MG School of Letters. When I take a break, I get refreshed. I’m enjoying it (smiles).