In Flask, National Award-winning filmmaker Rahul Riji Nair’s latest comedy drama that hit cinemas on July 18, a District Judge and his Personal Security Officer (PSO) are thrown together in a pairing as unlikely as it is revealing. The film gently chips away at the visible and invisible layers of hierarchy between the two, using humour and subtle emotional shifts to explore what happens when structure gives way to circumstance. “What really excited me was the idea of placing two people who are usually bound by hierarchy, in a situation where that hierarchy no longer exists,” Rahul explains.
Jyoti Kumar (Saiju Kurup) is a low-ranking constable who once aspired to be a full-time singer. Despite the constraints of his demanding job, he still manages to sing with a local musical troupe. “In policing, it is not like other fields where you have the freedom to follow a flexible routine,” says Rahul. “But many police personnel still find time to follow their passions on the side, whether it is music, acting, or something else,” recalls Rahul, drawing parallels from real cops he knows. After a mistake on duty, Jyoti Kumar is reassigned as the PSO to Judge Venkitesh Balaji (Suresh Krishna), a stern and aloof figure. “The idea behind shaping Jyoti Kumar's character that way was to place him at the opposite end of the spectrum from the judge.”
Their strained dynamic takes an unexpected turn when both Jyoti and Judge Venkitesh are kidnapped by a Maoist group led by Ganeshan (Sidharth Bharathan), demanding the release of their imprisoned leader. As they navigate this tense captivity, stripped of their roles and routines, the forest becomes a space of reflection and vulnerability, gradually shifting the power balance between them. As the story takes on a more serious tone, Rahul is careful not to let it drift into melodrama. “I was clear that I didn’t want the film to become loud or self-important,” he says. Instead, Flask maintains a quiet emotional rhythm, using the forest setting to bring the two men closer, with each beginning to see the other more clearly, while also sprinkling humour at regular intervals to keep the atmosphere balanced.
The role of a PSO, often mocked as ‘flask’ within the force (a derogatory reference to the ever-present flask they are often seen carrying on their shoulders), became the starting point for Rahul’s story. The seed, interestingly, was not planted by a newspaper headline or breaking news story, but by a social media post. Rahul recalls coming across a deeply personal note shared by a PSO, who expressed pride in his designation, after the judge he had been assigned to retired. “I messaged him, and we got in touch,” he remembers. “He explained what ‘flask’ meant and how it was often used as a mocking term. Interestingly, in his case, the judge had treated him like a family member, which is quite different from what we show in the film.”
From there, Rahul began reaching out to others in the same line of work. “After that, I spoke to several other PSOs and slowly began to understand the real challenges they face. That helped shape the story. But it all began with that Facebook post,” he shares. Some of the accounts stayed with Rahul long after the conversations ended. On the day of the film’s release, he visited a few theatres and found that several real-life PSOs had turned up to watch it. “A few of them were surprised by how accurately the film captured their experiences,” he says. “They even asked how I managed to gather so much information, such as PSOs being asked to buy groceries for the judges’ homes, which is just one of the many challenges they face.”
That attention to detail is what lends Flask its charm, not just in plot but in the film’s atmosphere and tonal shifts. While it flirts with the structure of a survival drama or even a thriller in parts, Rahul is clear about his approach, which leaned more towards light-hearted comedy and character-driven drama. “I wanted to treat it as a film grounded in the situations these two people find themselves in,” he clarifies. “That felt like the right approach, especially after hearing the real-life stories from the PSOs I spoke to. I never thought of it as a proper thriller or a survival drama. At its core, it’s about how their relationship evolves. Comedy was simply the tool I chose to tell that story.”
It is a creative instinct that serves Flask well. Even in moments of tension or uncertainty, Rahul ensures the characters are never stripped of their humanity. “For instance, take the scene where Balaji sings ‘Balikudeerangale’. That comes at one of the most emotionally intense moments in the film, right? But even then, there’s a twist. We still bring in a smile when Balaji says, ‘Isn’t it better to die than to hear me singing?’ That was the mood I wanted to maintain. So I put more effort into finding that balance during the writing stage than while filming,” he reflects.
The decision to cast Saiju Kurup and Suresh Krishna, both actors with strong screen presence but very different energies, was also shaped by the tonal contrast Rahul was aiming for in Flask. He had worked with both of them just before this project, on the SonyLIV web series Jai Mahendran, which helped build a sense of trust and creative ease. “I had faith that I would be able to direct and guide actors I was already comfortable with, especially because there is a certain freedom that comes with that kind of working relationship,” he says. “I can give instructions more freely, and we can also exchange ideas easily. Suresh ettan had never played a role like this before, and I believe he has delivered a milestone performance. Saiju chettan, of course, has played such fun characters earlier, but I felt that this particular combination of the two would bring something fresh.”
It is not just the performances, but also the texture of realism in Flask that comes through, especially in the seemingly small but sharp details from PSOs’ lives. “For example, even while sitting inside a car, some PSOs were expected to keep their cap on at all times, without removing them even for a moment. Or they would be made to wait outside for hours, staying hungry, while the judge or their family attended a function. These things might seem trivial, but they came up again and again in the stories I heard,” he adds.
The same instinctive casting extended to Sidharth Bharathan, who plays the Maoist leader Ganeshan. Rahul had not worked with him before, but something about the idea stuck with him. He was looking for someone who could carry ambiguity, a character who might seem calm and persuasive at one moment, and then unsettlingly violent the next. Sidharth, with his distinct voice and offbeat screen presence, seemed like the right fit. “I don’t know, it was just a random thought!” Rahul laughs. “We hadn’t met or spoken before, but his name came to mind while I was writing. His dialogue delivery is so unique, there’s a certain charm to it, but it can also lean into something darker when needed.” When they began discussions, Sookshmadarshini had not been released yet, though Sidharth’s work in Bramayugam had drawn praise.
Across his career, Rahul has never shied away from darker or difficult subjects, as seen in films like his State Award-winning debut feature Ottamuri Velicham and the National Award-winning Kalla Nottam. However, he resists the idea of compartmentalising his work into commercial and offbeat categories. “I’ve never really felt that kind of distinction in my mind while working on any film or series I’ve done,” he reflects. “While making a film, or even before starting one, I never think in terms of whether it should be commercial or offbeat.”
His earlier films were also deeply shaped by concept. “With Ottamuri Velicham, the core idea fascinated me. The concept of light becoming a villain, where light itself was the obstruction to a woman’s privacy, was what drew me in. In the case of Kalla Nottam, it came from a very personal reaction to society’s growing voyeurism and the intrusion into people’s private lives. The way we are constantly subjected to cameras in uncomfortable and invasive ways really affected me, and that’s how Kalla Nottam was born.” In contrast, Flask is a gentler, more accessible film that leans on humour and emotional warmth. Yet Rahul sees it as driven by the same curiosity and conviction that have shaped his earlier work.
For someone with such a thematic range, Rahul seems refreshingly open to experimenting across genres. Even when it came to Ottamuri Velicham, he trusted his instincts despite external suggestions. “While sending the film to international festivals, many people told me to remove the songs, saying they might reduce its chances of selection,” he recalls. “But I had used them as narrative tools, not just as musical interludes.” He decided to keep the songs intact, and the film still travelled widely across international festivals. “So I don’t believe there should be fixed rules for a certain kind of film or that some films are only meant for a specific section of the audience,” he concludes.