Parvathy Thiruvothu: I would love to do comedy. I am actually very funny

Throughout my time in school, I was primarily focused on the arts over studying for exams. I used to participate in dance events and drama productions. After school, I considered pursuing a creative writing course. Around that time, my mother enrolled me for a beauty pageant of sorts; a programme on a TV channel called Malayali Manga.

My parents ensured my brother and I received plenty of opportunities in the arts, which they didn’t get to pursue. Soon after the TV contest, I started anchoring on Kiran TV. Subsequently, I got the opportunity to be part of the film Out of Syllabus. Then Notebook happened, and that changed everything.

Vinodayathra came next. Working on Sathyan (Anthikad) sir’s set was an entirely different experience. I used to ask for minute details about my character. Surprised, he would tell me that we will figure that out later (laughs). He would let the actors play out the scene before setting the shots. This was a different approach from what I had seen in Notebook. I learned a lot on how to decipher a scene on my own through this process.

Now that I think of it, I witnessed sexism, hierarchy, etc., even during my initial years after Notebook. But I didn’t have the lens to view it for what it was then. I used to think that was normal. It wasn’t easy, but I had fallen in love with acting. After my fourth film, I told my parents that acting was going to be my priority, and continued my studies via distance education. Looking back, I wonder — how did they allow me to do that? I can’t comprehend the courage it would have taken them to back my choice (smiles).

Yes. My brother had his concerns. Understandably so! I still remember a moment — after watching the Tamil film Poo, he came home, hugged me, and said: ‘Now I understand why you want to do this.’ It is one of the core memories I fall back on to recharge myself, no matter what issues I get engulfed in (smiles).

I might have tried to fit in, but I always asked questions, mostly uncomfortable questions, even as a child. Maybe because of that, I didn’t understand why my questions could be problematic in the industry. Once you observe patterns, you cannot unsee them. Whenever my questions got shut down, I dug further. Perhaps it was the mindset — I wasn’t going to stay in an industry that will shut me down. In the worst-case scenario, I thought, I could leave if I wanted to. I am glad I never cashed in on that option!

Until the collective (WCC) was formed, I wasn’t fully aware of how bad things were. When the collective was being formed, I wondered: ‘Should you be out there so much?’ I wasn’t concerned about the repercussions in the industry. I was worried that my relationship with the audience would change forever. That is a bigger price to pay, frankly. Now, Parvathy is also an activist, a problem-maker, a feminist, feminichi, or whatever. So now, I have to put in double or triple the effort to convince audiences that I am the character that I am playing.

What happened in February 2017 (the abduction of an actor) changed all of us. I can still feel the rage and sadness. The impunity with which people can get away shocks me. The collective became a place where my fears met those of other women. It was like a tributary. Undoing our masks, facades, the patriarchy within…. One thing that became further solidified was the decision that I would not be in a workplace that is unjust and unfair. Fairness and dignity are most basic.

I have mulled over this, but what happened in February 2017 had a deep impact. It was like a before-Christ-after-Christ kind of moment. I feel it altered our mental DNA, in a way. I still hope that when I do a Pallavi (Uyare) or Anju (Ullozhukku), I am a good enough actor to entertain people. I still remember, when Uyare was released, I was so sure that it would be disliked because of the controversies. But, the Malayali audience always surprises me. They may hate me or disagree with me, but they still would appreciate it if I do a good job or if the film is good. So that gave me confidence to continue to speak up.

We want an equal and safe work environment. That has not changed. But the attitude of fighting has changed. Earlier, we used to think we would have to snatch something. But now, it is like, let’s talk — ‘We needn’t like each other but, to reach a solution, can we have a conversation?’ That’s our attitude towards other stakeholders in the industry.

There are positives, and conversations are happening. But it takes a lot of effort to keep them going. Moreover, breadcrumbing continues as well! It’s like we are given very little credit for our intelligence. Because, as women, we have been oppressed for as long as we can remember. So we know it when we are thrown a bone, so to speak, to stay distracted.

Of course. I have lost opportunities. Up until the collective was formed, I was just an actor who had back-to-back successes. There were people around me, sitting with me, taking selfies with me. The moment the collective was formed and other controversies erupted, nobody was making eye contact anymore.

The best way to silence someone is to starve them, isn’t it? Or, so they thought. How will I get better as an actor if I am not given an opportunity to work on my craft? If we look at the data, I don’t think an actor who has given back-to-back hits should have done only so few films in Malayalam. It’s not about me being choosy. Take Off, Ennu Ninte Moideen, Uyare, and Charlie — all of them did well. Also, if you notice, the people I used to work with, too, have completely changed.

Not necessarily. Even filmmakers/technicians, for that matter. It could easily be a creative choice too. I am well aware I am not the only actor here. It is far too stark a pattern to not notice, though. I am not affected by it. Because what it has done, and what they need to understand, is that when you starve someone, you give them the power back in a way to make their own food (smiles).

No. It’s now merged very nicely. Initially, there were hiccups, and I was scared. Honestly, the realisation that acting is not my only calling has made me feel free. If you ask me whether I want to be an actor or an activist, it’s like having to choose between being an actor or being a human.

If we check the frequency of my films, it was about two a year. I was getting a lot more opportunities, but I have never done many films simultaneously. So, I don’t feel bad about the number of films I do. Even if I get 10 opportunities, I might still do only two films a year. It’s the deliberate avoidance that is adding up. This is not just in my case. The loss of opportunity is happening so much around me. Maybe it’s more visible in my case.

But there are many artists who have had to take up other jobs, like office work, to make a living. That makes me more angry. These artists are made to go to find another job because… Why? Because she asked for a contract? Because she said ‘Please don’t harass me’?

Very difficult. If you look by percentage, you probably get 1% of the choices what a male actor gets. This isn’t the case just about the Malayalam industry, though. It is difficult to be choosy because opportunities are fewer. The subject of how the presence of women in stories should be has been a big debate recently. If you take a cross-section of our society, you can see women everywhere right? If that’s the reality, why is it not reflected in the films? Their stories exist all around us. It’s important they also make it to the screen.

Since the formation of WCC, people used to look at us with suspicion on the film sets. There was a fear that we were whistleblowers and moles. Then the jokes — ‘Don’t say anything, the WCC is sitting here.’ It then turned into alertness, which, I believe, is good. If it acts as a deterrent from committing a crime, why not? Discussions and debates are far more normalised. That’s a positive for sure.

I sincerely think we all collectively know who are the ones pushing back. Either they are in the power group or they are under its influence. I don’t think the onus should be on me to do an exposé here.

For a first-of-its-kind, WCC has a long way to go. We welcome constructive criticism. If a woman feels there is elitism within the collective, I genuinely want them to work with us to show us a better way. This isn’t a space created to be run by a few or reflect the same hierarchy that existed before. There has been a steep learning curve, and I think it has done us well to open conversations within to make sure it gets more and more inclusive.

I don’t think fear is the final destination; it’s just an interim deterrent. How strange that fear should be the reason for people to be decent human beings! I want to be respected, not be scared of. We aim to see regulations being implemented in the industry. The collective has developed a ‘Cinema Code of Conduct (CCC)’, which can be used by policymakers. We need a system that keeps people accountable and protects their rights at work. The Justice Hema Committee was just one step towards it; it doesn’t end there.

There needs to be a proper cinema policy, and laws that protect the rights of everyone at work. The government and stakeholders from the industry have to come together and decide on that. In a bid to help move this conversation, WCC has shared our recommendations in CCC, which is broken down in the simplest fashion. We have listed the problems along with the potential solutions. It’s disheartening to see other organisations rubbishing most of our concerns as invalid. These are problems that’s costing us time, opportunities and a better life as artists.

No, I had no inkling that Sarah in Bangalore Days would become such a loved character. Tessa in Charlie is also another widely loved character. Same with Ennu Ninte Moideen.

Initially, I was busy trying to understand Kanchanamala and Moideen’s relationship, because I personally had no understanding of that kind of love. But after the film’s release, I still remember women hugging and kissing my cheeks in theatres. I realised that their love may not be for me, but through Kanchanamala, many felt so seen! It changed my perspective on love and life in many ways.

Not at all. I realised relatability isn’t required for me to portray a character in the best possible way. What I would not do is judge characters for their choices. I need to relate to the impact that the filmmaker is aiming for. The rest is representation in the truest sense possible.

(Laughs out) I wasn’t complaining, I was only amused that there wasn’t any curiosity about my love life—I feel like this asexual penguin! I have loved well, and I have been loved very well. Now, I will not take anything less than that of a best friend as a partner. I don’t need a partner; I want a partner. There is a difference between need and want.

Yes, of course, I want to. I want to tell all the directors and writers out there to cast me in such roles (smiles). When it comes to being typecast, it’s not entirely in our hands. And when I say that, I don’t have any opposition to it because I have enjoyed playing all the strong, bold characters. For me, they are equally strong and weak. At the end of the film, they emerge victorious. I feel ‘shy, demure, feminine’ is not an image attached to me because I have not shown that publicly. I really want to play this very ‘un-Parvathy-like’ character. These are also aspects of me that actually exist but are not necessarily seen publicly (smiles).

Comedy. I would love to do comedy. I am actually very funny, guys (laughs).

I can separate art and the artist. I can live without watching some people’s films. I do not see it as a loss to not watch an artist’s film because of their lack of humanity or dehumanising acts. At the same time, I cannot censor their right to exist, or I cannot say they need to be cancelled. If I am the producer, I wouldn’t be casting them. But as an actor, as a fellow employee, I can’t dictate to my employer whom they can or can’t cast.

One can only have a conversation about pay parity when there are equal opportunities. When I say that I have to be paid like someone else is, I also need to get enough opportunity to prove myself and bring in the market value. If they are not giving me work, I can’t create the market value to demand fair pay. It’s important to note that when somehow, by a huge stroke of luck and hard work, a woman manages to work up a decent market value, the system is set up in such a way that it’s diluted by taking out their chances. Women in our industry don’t get to work as prolifically as men. It’s unfair.

How many Nayantharas do we have? And how long did she take to be the Nayathara she is today, with zero collective in the vicinity back then? And, are we being asked to be satisfied with one success story? Success stories of women need to be the norm, not exceptions. With more of them, the more we impact society in general to normalise the success of women, and not antagonise it. Once again, the success of a woman doesn’t mean taking anything away from a man’s success. We have enough space for all. We are only rightfully asking for what’s ours.

Yes, I am going to direct. I am also co-writing different projects right now. There are some very obvious, expected obstacles that I am facing. But the moment I get to announce it, I will do it (smiles).

(TNIE team: Vignesh Madhu, Vivek Santhosh, Kiran Prakash, Cithara Paul, P Ramdas, Anna Jose, Krishna P S, Mahima Anna Jacob, Manisha V C S, Harikrishna B

Photos: A Sanesh,

Video: Pranav V P)