Rajesh Madhavan has spent the better part of a decade inside other people’s films, as an actor, assistant, and creative collaborator. Pennum Porattum is the first that is entirely his, and it shows. The film, which premiered at the 56th International Film Festival of India in Goa and is now streaming on Netflix after a modest theatrical run, is set in Pattada, a fictional village that feels like it could be in Palakkad, going by the dialect spoken by its characters.
On paper, it sounds manageable. A satirical comedy. A village setting. A directorial debut from a familiar actor. In practice, it is louder, stranger, angrier, and funnier than that description suggests. Two storylines unfold side by side. In one, a community becomes convinced that Suttu, a dog, has gone rabid. In the other, the same community is certain that a woman named Charulatha has done something shameful. Neither belief is rooted in fact.
Now finding a second life on Netflix, the film is slowly building an audience. “I think more people are discovering the film now, especially those who missed it in theatres, and they’re engaging with it more deeply,” Rajesh says. In this conversation, he talks about Pennum Porattum’s evolution, its unconventional casting choices, bringing in Tovino Thomas as the voice of Suttu, and more.
Excerpts:
Where did the initial idea for the film come from?
My writer, Ravishankar, had a dog, and conversations with him about it sparked the initial idea. It took us nearly ten years to develop the story, as we both got caught up in our individual projects. From early on, we knew the narrative would have multiple layers centred around two families, given the subject we wanted to explore. Since the story is set in the present, it naturally delves into mob mentality.
The film’s title and dialect suggest a link to Palakkad's art form Porattu Naadakam. Was that an influence?
We did not intend to emulate Porattu Naadakam. I am from Kasaragod, and in northern Malabar, there is an art form called Chaliya Porattu, which includes expletives and deliberately uncomfortable conversations. That was closer to our reference point. Since the film is set in Palakkad and features artists associated with Porattu Naadakam, people might assume a direct influence. But that form is culturally and politically distinct. What interested us was the word “Porattu” itself, which, in Malayalam, conveys something obscene or uncouth. We were drawn to that spirit rather than the art form.
Pattada feels like a mythical space rather than a real place...
That was intentional. We wanted Pattada to feel like an invented space. My background in theatre influenced this approach, pushing me towards a slightly surreal way of imagining the world. We were also clear that the place should be filled with animals. We drew on various observations of how domestic animals are treated and incorporated those elements into Pattada. It is not meant to be realistic. It is more like a constructed terrain with a raw, almost barbaric quality.
Given the exaggerated tone, was there a concern that it might come across as offensive, especially since it is set in Palakkad?
Of course. That is why we make it clear that this is not Palakkad but a fictional village called Pattada. There is always a chance people might assume what they see reflects Palakkad’s culture, but that is not the case. Most elements, including the rituals, come from our own imagination, though some are inspired by things we have observed across Kerala and India. We were clear from the beginning that the film would have an exaggerated tone. At the same time, how far we could push it evolved during the shoot. I understand that some viewers may find it uncomfortable, but this is how we envisioned it.
The Palakkadan slang almost functions like a character in the film and drives much of the humour. Were the lines written in that slang during the scripting stage itself?
No. We wrote the script in a way that was easy for us to communicate with each other. The scenes truly took shape only when we began shooting. We mostly had situations in place, and many of the dialogues were developed on set, with actors contributing their own lines. In that sense, they also deserve credit as dialogue writers. We did not consciously insist on using the Palakkadan slang. It came naturally because most of the cast were from Palakkad. We chose to retain it because it helped create a sense of a terrain that feels unfamiliar in mainstream cinema. Beyond that, the film does not have any direct connection to Palakkad, and there was no intention to offend its people.
Apart from Raina Radhakrishnan as Charulatha and you as her brother Charuhasan, there's hardly any familiar face in the cast. What was your thought behind such a casting?
I had the chance to pitch the story to established actors, and, of course, they could help increase the film’s visibility. But our intention was to make the audience feel this world. Many films struggle to create that kind of immersion. I felt this would work better with unfamiliar faces. We wanted a cast that feels like they belong to the same community, sharing the same rhythm.
Was there any discussion about exploring the relationship between Suttu and Charulatha more deeply?
Not really. Charulatha is largely seen through Suttu’s perspective. She belongs to Pattada, but at this point she is in town on an errand. As Suttu’s journey unfolds, we gradually understand her better, especially through her concern for him. Even though the title includes “Pennum”, Charulatha is not the central protagonist; she exists as a character within this world rather than driving it. And even if the audience does not feel the same level of sympathy for Charulatha as they do for Suttu, that is completely fine.
We did have some discussions after the shoot, but we collectively felt that Suttu’s relationship with Charulatha should not be over-explained or made too explicit. Keeping that restraint intact was important for us, as it allowed the emotion to come through more naturally.
How did you go about casting Suttu, the dog?
We found him when he was just three or four months old. We did not know much about Dalmatians, but his black-and-white appearance fit our idea. We trained him extensively, and he turned out to be very expressive. During the shoot, getting the reactions we wanted was not easy. My assistants would have to do all sorts of antics, and sometimes it would take hours. Over time, we shaped the version of Suttu you see in the film.
You must have shot a lot of footage...
Yes, we shot quite extensively. With animals and new performers, that is almost unavoidable, and at times we would go up to 50 takes just to get something right. That made the editor’s role extremely important. The film has an unconventional narrative structure, so it was crucial for the editor to understand its rhythm and pacing. Chaman came on board after the shoot and connected with the film, even though it is not the kind of work he usually does.
The film’s visual style and cinematography are quite distinct...
We knew we wanted bold, pop colours and a slightly heightened visual style. It was not easy to execute, especially when it came to balancing extremes of light and darkness. My cinematographer Sabin (Uralikandy) approached it almost like theatre, placing the camera within the performance rather than observing it from a distance.
There’s a philosophical tone to Suttu’s inner voice dialogues. How did you approach writing them?
That idea was there from the beginning, this sense of Suttu gradually realising how vast the world is. The structure of the dialogues, though, came together much later. Even though the film leans into humour and slapstick, we wanted an emotional and philosophical layer running underneath. The intention was to create empathy, even in a playful tone. Also, since these lines are voiced by people like Tovino (Thomas) and Basil (Joseph), we felt they would connect better with the audience, even if they come across as a bit philosophical. (laughs)
How did Tovino Thomas come on board as Suttu's voice?
I have known Tovino since my days as an assistant director around the time of Mayaanadhi. I always liked his voice and felt it carried empathy. I wasn't sure he would agree, so I waited until after the shoot to show him the film. He responded very positively, and his involvement added a lot to the film.
The ending feels tender despite the satire, with Suttu leaving Pattada to be with other wandering animals...
I don’t like leaving audiences in despair, especially in these times. Even within a satirical film, I want people to walk away with some sense of light.
The film also had a festival run before release. How did that help?
We didn’t initially plan for a festival run. Tovino suggested we submit the film. For a film like this, without major stars, festivals are a good way to reach people early. The response there was very encouraging, and that kind of word-of-mouth really helped the film’s visibility before release. That also played a part in how the OTT deal happened even before its theatrical release, which is rare nowadays for a Malayalam film without stars.
What do you have to say about people drawing similarities between Pennum Porattum and films like Jallikattu and Senna Hegde’s work?
With Senna Hegde’s films, especially Thinkalazhcha Nishchayam, I understand why people might see a connection. There are some common elements, like a function setting and a woman appearing towards the end. I have also worked on Thinkalazhcha Nishchayam, but the story of Pennum Porattum was with me even before that. At the same time, our film leans more into a surreal space with a very distinct visual language. As for Jallikattu, I think the comparison comes from the idea of people chasing an animal. But beyond that basic similarity, the films are quite different.
You started as an actor and casting director, even though filmmaking was your original dream. How did that journey shape you as a filmmaker?
Working in different roles gave me exposure to a variety of methods and processes. Being an actor, in particular, gave me insights that helped me direct a film like this. For a first-time filmmaker, it would have been quite difficult otherwise. Becoming a director was always the dream, even if I couldn’t pursue it right away. Looking back, everything I did along the way became part of that journey.
Going forward, what’s next for you as a filmmaker?
I’m hoping to adapt P V Shajikumar’s Maranavamsham. It’s a novel inspired by several incidents from my native place. The scale of that story is quite big, so it would need a strong star cast and a large production to do it justice.