Jeo Baby: I didn't feel the need for intimate scenes in Kaathal

Growing up in the ’80s, our home had a VCR, a luxury item back then. That sparked my interest in films. My father, an avid film enthusiast and reader, introduced me to serious cinema. I remember watching Pather Panchali twice while in Class 6. It didn’t resonate with me then. However, when I rewatched it during a camp in Class 10, I was captivated.

After that, my father and I started exploring serious films together. For example, Aravindan’s Oridathu, which I loved. Another favourite from that time was Thenmavin Kombathu. I also loved Shankar’s Kadhalan, which I recorded. Experimenting with film editing, I would cut tapes to merge scenes from Thenmavin Kombathu and Kadhalan.

Though I never imagined a career in films, it was a constant passion. Coming from Thalanadu in Kottayam, about 50km from the town, I had no industry connections. Yet, films occupied my mind. My early experiences shaped my fascination with cinema.

I consider Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s Elippathayam and Siddique-Lal’s Godfather as two examples of brilliant scripts and challenging productions. Similarly, Oridathu and Thenmavin Kombathu are very dear to me. Aravindan’s techniques are evident in my films, reflecting my philosophy: creating commercially viable movies that entertain as well.

During undergraduate studies, I participated in India’s first campus film festival, where my friends and I shot a film despite having no experience. Unfortunately, the film was a disaster.

We thought filmmaking wasn’t for us. However, the film was selected for screening, and ‘Malayalam Varika’ introduced me as a “future talent”. That encouraged me to continue making short films, improving with each attempt. Later, I joined a postgraduate course in film and television making, where I thrived.

Yes. We created a short film on homosexuality, which earned many accolades. But the college management did not approve of it and suspended us. I was shattered.

By then, I was sure that filmmaking was my only way forward. I had nothing else in my mind. My progress was slow, but I persisted. I aspired to create commercial films and approached industry professionals.

In 2010, I wrote Kilometers and Kilometers, which eventually got released in 2020. I pitched the idea to directors like Martin Prakkat and Sathyan Anthikkad, who encouraged me despite initial rejections.

My sisters supported me, even by selling their jewellery. I decided to make a film independently, leading to 2 Penkuttikal, focusing on women-centric themes.

It won awards and recognition, paving the way for my second film, Kunju Daivam, and eventually Kilometers and Kilometers. Tovino Thomas joined the production, and we shot the film in Rajasthan.

I seek to do films that become popular. For me, films are ultimately for entertainment. I think the influence of my surroundings and experiences makes me do such (serious) films.

Moreover, I try to make films on subjects that I know more about. I would like my next film to be an entertainer, a crowd-puller. I like both genres. I am crazy about films such as Thenmavin Kombath and Godfather. At the same time, I like films such as Oridathu and the ones by K G George.

This transformation wasn’t overnight. Spending time in the kitchen – which I had voluntarily taken over from my wife – was revelatory. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, but rather an organic shift. Cinema played a significant role.

Never. My previous films, 2 Penkuttikal and Kunju Daivam weren’t widely popular initially. I wanted to create something different. ‘TGIK’ was made on a low budget with friends. The film’s slow pace and lengthy shots weren’t intended for broad appeal. We targeted festivals, but Covid cancellations posed significant obstacles. Despite these challenges, the film’s unexpected impact has been overwhelming.

The depiction is accurate. Many Kerala kitchens still resemble what we showed in the film. After its release, I received numerous comments, but I didn’t feel the need to respond directly. Several women and men with common sense replied to this criticism, inviting sceptics to visit their homes. My research was thorough; I didn’t film a retro kitchen. Even if it’s not in your or my home, it exists in our neighbourhood.

Not entirely. While kitchens have evolved, the dynamics remain unchanged. In Adaminte Vaariyellu, firewood was used; in TGIK, it was a gas stove. Mixer grinders replaced grinding stones. However, women still handle all these tasks. Modern appliances reduce physical strain but don’t alter the patriarchal system.

The second LDF government’s promise of loans for women to buy home appliances ironically reinforced their kitchen confinement. Change is happening; kitchen responsibilities are being shared. I hope this trend grows, and we move closer to true equality. However, I don’t expect one film to revolutionise everything.

It was an organic process. My experiences, like those depicted in TGIK, made me realise the inequality. Constantly working in the kitchen, feeling trapped, and sacrificing personal desires sparked my awareness. I drew from personal struggles, like the scene where Nimisha Sajayan’s character smells her hands, a habit I shared.

Even intimate moments were affected. Reflection led me to advocate for feminism and equality. Experiences such as worrying about household chores at night solidified my resolve. My journey to feminism was gradual, born from lived experiences.

We considered various family contexts – Christian, Muslim, and others. However, after extensive research, three years of planning, and engaging with female authors’ writings, I decided to set the story in a broader context to expose India’s pervasive patriarchal system.

I never intended to criticise Hindu culture or Hinduism specifically. I understand the criticism, but my focus remained on the larger narrative of patriarchal oppression.

I agree. While writing the script, I hit a creative block and did not know how to take the story forward. Hence, I took the Sabarimala angle as a creative. I feel that TGIK would have been a better film if the Sabarimala issue was not included. But I did not know how to do it.

Around the same time, the Sabarimala controversy was on, and the issue was relevant. The Supreme Court’s decision had sparked debate. In the end, however, the film’s acceptance and criticism prove its impact.

Yes, we intentionally crafted the narrative to express our politics loudly and clearly.

The script by Adarsh Sukumaran and Paulson Skaria impressed me, and Mammootty was my immediate choice. When I suggested his name, the team was excited but unsure if he would accept. However, he agreed without hesitation and contributed significantly to the project.

During story discussions, Mammootty questioned why shouldn’t his and Jyothika’s characters remain friends post-separation. That sparked new creative possibilities, leading to impactful scenes. He also suggested conveying emotion through eye contact instead of dialogue, resulting in a powerful interval scene. His research and understanding of the queer community greatly informed his suggestions.

The combination of Mammootty and Jyothika created much anticipation. Mammootty’s presence ensured a strong opening, and the film’s quality encouraged repeat viewings. Mammootty’s involvement certainly drew audiences.

Honestly, no. Many believe we avoided intimate scenes in Kaathal owing to Mammootty’s involvement, but that’s not true. The original draft focused on two loving individuals. Mathew has a house, a father, a life partner and a daughter. But Thankan has only Mathew.

There were questions on why Mathew was not displaying any intimacy towards Thankan. Mathew fears. He was curbed by family, relationships, society, and even class.

Kaathal is a story of people who love each other from the heart. My favourite shot was Mammootty exiting a coffee shop – a tracking shot with no dialogue, more impactful than any intimate scene. I didn’t feel the need for intimate scenes; the story stood on its own.

I don’t have anything to say to those with anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments, but I accept other valid criticisms. Since Kaathal is one of the very first mainstream films to discuss this theme, it is bound to have some issues.

I take such criticisms very seriously. While Mathew’s storyline serves a narrative purpose, I acknowledge that it may cause discomfort for some members of the community. Just as depictions of domestic violence can trigger trauma in some viewers, we filmmakers must consider the potential impact of our storytelling. We should not only acknowledge but also address these concerns.

Even if we claim to know everything about the LGBTQ+ community and their struggles, we are still distant from them. So, when they say the film hurt them in some way or the other, I won’t try to justify.

We presented the first draft of the screenplay, and he was already aware of the film’s subject. To my knowledge, he even put Kannur Squad on hold to take up Kaathal. When I narrated the script, he asked why we chose him for the role. I explained that we needed an actor of his calibre, someone who could genuinely understand the subject’s sensibilities.

It emerged during filming. I desired a shot showcasing freedom, unsure if it’s realistic in our society. Incorporating the rainbow (symbolising the LGBTQ+ flag) was essential; that shot gave me goosebumps – a creative orgasm.

Absolutely. I would have found another talented actor to bring the character to life. Similarly, if Nimisha Sajayan had turned down TGIK, I would have sought another actress.

I was hopeful Mammootty would connect with the film’s message, and he agreed after our first narration. Initially, his character was a police officer, but we refined the screenplay based on my inputs.

The response outside Kerala is remarkable. People in Mumbai praise our films like Bramayugam and Kishkindha Kaandam, and we owe it to our discerning audience. The evolution of women characters is also noteworthy - strong, identifiable women like those in Premalu, Kishkindha Kaandam, and ARM. This shift positively impacts society.

In a male-dominated industry and society, this imbalance is bound to be there. Men predominantly direct, write, and produce films, thus influencing the narrative. However, we are witnessing a reverse conditioning process. Recently, a film directed by a woman, featuring the talented actors Kani Kusruti and Divya Prabha, made waves at Cannes.

This success responds to concerns about representation and heralds a meaningful change. It’s a step towards greater inclusivity.

My frustration lies with the patriarchal system pervasive in every household and workplace, where men hold power. The film industry is no exception. However, I applaud the women in Malayalam cinema who spoke out against power groups, sparking change. History will remember their courage.

I don’t think so. We should not be scared of such results. The environment will become better, right? Some people are scared of equality. In fact, equality is when the journey is together. The change helps in completing the task better.

False allegations are detrimental, potentially cancelling genuine complaints. They are crimes that should be addressed. We must distinguish between false and genuine allegations, ensuring justice for all.

Yes, nobody chooses patriarchy; it’s a systemic issue. Men are conditioned to lead, often unknowingly perpetuating inequality. I don’t villainise men or idealise women; the problem lies in the system. Future generations should break free from this conditioning. Patriarchy affects everyone.

How do you view the impact of the Women in Cinema Collective (WCC)?WCC has sparked a revolution in workplaces, not just in cinema. Their efforts have brought about significant changes, inspiring other organisations to follow suit. The importance of WCC lies in its ability to drive this transformation.

Pay parity is a broader issue, beyond cinema. It’s a societal problem, prevalent in all workplaces. Even directors don’t receive the same pay as lead actors. This disparity exists everywhere, from medicine to transportation. We encourage children to dream big but overlook the value of essential professions like taxi drivers, plumbers, and cleaners.

These jobs deserve higher compensation; we fail to recognise their importance. In cinema, market value dictates remuneration. Nayanthara, for instance, commands higher pay due to her box-office draw. However, this disparity isn’t unique to cinema. It’s a complex issue, and I often ponder over how to achieve balance.

Perhaps directors should receive equal profit shares as producers, but practicality varies with each film. It’s been two years since I did Kaathal... I have been fortunate enough to get some acting gigs and be active in the field. Not everyone gets such luxuries.

I love acting. I find myself really happy doing things around cinema. Acting in cinema is a very peaceful job for me, unlike the responsibilities one otherwise has.

Acting is only about doing that character as the director wants you to. It is a calm and quiet deal for me. I was able to be part of several good films as an actor; there are a lot more to be released.

I am planning an entertainer with six-seven songs and dances, but not sure when it will materialise.