Slaves of the Empire, directed by Kochi native Rajesh James, clinched the Best Documentary Award at the 27th UK Asian Film Festival held in May. The 50-minute film unfolds against the backdrop of colonial-era Fort Kochi and delves deep into the ordinary existence of laundry workers of Dhobi Khana.
The ancestors of this Vannar community, who hail from Tamil Nadu and whose primary occupation is washing clothes, were enslaved by the Dutch during the 1700s and brought to Fort Kochi to tend to their colonial masters’ domestic work.
Now, long after the foreign powers left the country, the Dhobi Khana remains, albeit in a new avatar. Incidently, 2025 marks 50 years of the Greater Cochin Development Authority building the laundry quarters that’s today known as Dhobi Khana.
Here, The New Indian Express talks to filmmaker Rajesh James about his filmmaking journey, working on Slaves of the Empire, the lessons he learnt, future plans and more…
How did you get interested in filmmaking?
Through film clubs, during my time at St Joseph's College in Kozhikode. These clubs were instrumental in helping me migrate from merely watching popular films to appreciating them better, their nuances, etc. Later, in 2012, I began my doctoral studies on Christopher Nolan’s filmography. This further cemented my interest.
The real impetus came when I enrolled for a film appreciation course in the Film and Television Institute of India, Pune. Here, I was treated to films that were not on my immediate radar, and I also got to interact with people who were actively studying filmmaking. With this experience, I too yearned to tell stories of my own. That’s how it began.
If you ask me what my film school is, I’d say it's the many film festivals I've attended this past decade. I used to attend every edition of the International Documentary and Short Film Festival (IDSFFK) held in Kerala. Here, I engaged in talks with filmmakers for their insights and experiences. I was also a frequent visitor to the International Film Festival of Kerala. These platforms were very crucial for awakening the filmmaker in me.
Then, when you began, were you gunning for documentaries?
No, initially, I was interested in fiction and wanted to make films in this segment. But one has to start somewhere, right? I think the IDSFFK experience influenced me to work on a documentary. In 2014, I picked up my small camera and began mapping the issues that traffic wardens face in Kochi. As fate would have it, in 2015, that work, Zebra Lines, was selected for an IDSFFK competition. This win buoyed my spirit and my confidence. It also opened doors for me as a filmmaker.
Two more documentary works followed in quick succession, right?
Yes, Naked Wheels in 2015, and In Thunder, Lightning and Rain in 2020. Naked Wheels is a story of a group of friends who travelled from Kochi to Goa, and talks about the plight of transgender people in Kerala. The work bagged the Best Documentary at the Kashish Pride Film Festival, held annually in Mumbai. I also got invitations to screen my work in a few festivals in Europe.
Then came In Thunder, Lightning and Rain. It is a local story of three women from Kochi. Both these works were done in collaboration with the filmmaking department at Sacred Heart College. Students were eager to help with the project and gain hands-on experience.
Now, coming to your latest work, Slaves of the Empire… a bulk of it was shot during the Covid…
We started shooting in 2020. A lot of research for this work happened during the lockdown months. And then later, when that was lifted, we began shooting. If you watch the work, you will see many dimensions of Covid — people wearing masks, talking about vaccines, etc.
Why did you decide to take up this topic for your film?
I have been staying in Kochi for over a decade. I found the Dhobi Khana to be fascinating. Especially its colonial past. When I read more about it, my fascination only grew. And I knew then that there was a story to be told here. I also knew that to do an academic documentary would render it boring. So I decided to focus on few characters of Dhobi Khana — Rajan, Prattiamma, Rajashekharan, and Selvaraj — and tell the larger story through them. That’s how it began.
Slaves of the Empire hits different. It’s unlike your usual documentary, which tends to gravitates towards showing the hardships of its subjects. But here, everyone has a colourful character…
That’s exactly how I wanted to portray it. These laundry workers… they are a working class society, but very down-to-earth people. We, who don white collars, view them with a sympathetic lens. That’s just how the system is, and it’s only natural. But I wanted to counter that approach and show that they have their own worlds wherein they lead happy lives. There’s no self pity. Only the determination to make good of what they have and everything they engage in.
Even this shoot, they don’t see it as if I have done a service to them. But instead, of them having helped an upcoming filmmaker with a project. That is their perspective, and I absolutely loved that approach.
Also, while watching the work, I didn’t feel any hurriedness… everything takes its own time, and feels natural…
From a technical perspective, there were many segments in it that your usually filmmaker or editor would mark as redundant or even needless. For example, Rajan’s conversations with his wife. These could have been trimmed. But in doing so, we would have taken away something very real, that raw experience. You see, Rajan is, until that moment, sort of a villain figure in the community. But before his wife, he is a different person. In those segments, it is his wife that’s overpowering. I wanted to show that contrast. To bring new dimensions to the characters. I have kept even more segments like it and this, in turn, makes the work seem more natural.
Let’s also talk about the black and white aesthetics… was that the plan to begin with?
Yes, absolutely. As soon as we saw the first black-and-white frame, my editor and I were convinced that this should be the aesthetic. The colours complemented well—the dark bodies of the laundry workers and the white linen. Going for black-and-white also helped drown out the other colours inside the Dhobi Khana, which otherwise would have been too loud on the screen.
What also helped our decision was this: black and white is often associated with history. Since we were capturing a remnant of the colonial time, this colour scheme worked well for us. At Dhobi Khana, even today, time is arrested. Even though their lives continue, their history is locked.
Usually, a documentary filmed from Fort Kochi and Mattancherry tends to lean heavily on the tourism angle. Not Slaves of the Empire though…
Tourism and the gaze of the tourist, in my opinion, are always about distancing. This work, though there is a colonial background to it, is ultimately a human story. We were focusing on that — on the characters, their lives. That said, towards the end, we try to place it in the larger Fort Kochi context by showing several famous places there — Lilly Street, Calavathy Road, Jew Street, and the Dutch Cemetery there. To make this ‘larger context’ more apparent, we used a lens with a bigger aspect ratio (i.e. more widescreen) to map this, thus lending a cinematic experience.
Interestingly, Slaves of the Empire also weaves in a segment wherein the work-in-progress film is screened at Dhobi Khana…
You see, this work we did, it’s my version of their story. Their lives. A filmmaker can’t claim to be the only authentic voice. In fact, he is an outsider. His work is only a glimpse. So, in having that screened to the very people it is based of, I’m, for the lack of a better word, validating the work.
Including that screening into the film only felt like the natural thing to do. To show to the audience that this, too, is a fiction of sorts. When the screening segment rolls, the audience, too, is shaken up into the real. It is as if, until then, they had been watching a movie.
Indeed, in that segment, Prattiamma is seen asking, what happened to the other shots you took…
Yes, it is a very political question. The filmmaker is put on the spot and asked what happened to the other shots he had taken. But this only confirms the idea that what was shown is only version of the story. And also that, there’s more to be seen and learnt about the history and lives of the Dhobi Khana workers.
You have not tried to censor or even modify how the characters talk…
Yes, that’s true. Documentary work allows us that freedom. There is realism. If the filmmaker tries to mask that anyway, then you lose the essence. Our responsibility is always to leave that intact. For Slaves of the Empire, we left everything in and weaved a narrative around it.
How long did it take to shoot Slaves of the Empire?
Four years, from 2020 to 2024. We shot in intermittently — on weekends, off days, etc.
In what capacity do you go to shoot… how many apparatus and equipment?
Maximum of two cameras for most of the shoots we did, especially at Dhobi Khana. Not more. This was to ensure that we didn’t disturb their work. Also, some, we knew from experience, are very conscious whenever there’s a camera around. So, we took great care. But even then, these two equipments were too much for many. It was only after six months, i.e. when they had become familiar with the cameras, that the real shoot began. For interviews, we added one more.
Did you face rejection when we went to shoot for the first time?
Oh yes, very much. At first, they talk very dismissively to us. But then face, that’s the real documentary work, right? You capture the feelings as raw as they come. Also, we took the effort to convince them on why this work matters to us. And subsequently, it mattered to them as well. But after several months into the work, it can be said that they forgot about us. One was like, ‘They have been going at it for a long time. I wonder what transpires of all this effort.’ We showed up and kept the cameras rolling, until finally we had what we came for.
It was a four years project, right? How did you sustain the enthusiasm and the passion?
That’s a big question. I’d say it’s the people. These laundry workers. They lead such social lives. We found a home in them and that, I believe, sustained us. That’s not to say that there were no ups and downs. There were, but we persisted and came through. We wouldn’t have been able to finish the work had we been even a bit unsatisfied.
When did you know or how could you tell that this documentary, Slaves of the Empire, was finally complete after working on it for so long?
Prior to the work arriving at this version, we have some screenings to guage how audiences would respond to it. It went well and that gave us confidence. Later, I sat down with our editor and had a long discussion. We were convinced that there was indeed a story in it. And even if we were to shoot more scenes, it wouldn’t add as much. We had gotten the essence of Dhobi Khana and the lives of its laundry workers. And that was enough. I knew there was enough meaning in it to finally call it a day.
But on hindsight, it would have boded us well to have the film stretch for an hour. Film festivals abroad prefer the works coming in to be about that length. Ours is just shy — 50 minutes.
You’ve now won numerous awards for your works. How did Rajesh James’s personal journey change after each such win?
You know, there was a time when I coveted awards. I didn’t get it then. Now, while I’m certainly very grateful for the recognition, awards are not as precious. To be able to make films that people enjoy is my greatest reward. It’s what I derive the most joy from. After all, we are also artists. And for an artist, the biggest award is the chance to do the next work.
When working on documentaries, do you go with a storyboard already set?
There is a general idea. But certainly, no story. No fixed plans. It’s not scripted. We build the story as we go. Usually, it is on the editing table that the narrative is set. Until then, we are only documenting their lives.
If you look at Slaves of the Empire, there’s a segment wherein two laundry workers are seen embracing each other and finally, one pecks at the cheeks of the other. How can one script all that? Then, there’s the segment wherein Rajan and his wife, Rajalakshmi, are having a very personal conversation. It came naturally. There was no way to force that in by way of a script. It wouldn’t have worked.
Also, when we joined Selvarajan to watch a Rajnikanth film, because it was Covid, the theatres were empty. But we had planned to capture a swelling crowd, capture Selvarajan’s admiration for the Tamil superstar. That didn’t happen. But what we did capture was something even more poignant. Selvaraj’s disappointment at now being able to enjoy the show as he desired. Also, we got to document a shard of Covid history.
I bet, this is how documentary filmmakers generally work — they first document and the story comes later. But this also means that you have to plan as you go.
So, you are saying, one shouldn’t approach a filmmaking project with a premeditated timeline…
Exactly. It’s difficult to work when you have the burden of a deadline looming on you. Documentary filmmaking, in my opinion, does not work in such fixed boxes. How can we control their lives? Basically, we follow their schedule.
Do you plan to foray into the fiction segment?
Not at the moment. I’m very content with documentary filmmaking. There are not many who work on documentaries in Kerala. That said, I do want to bring something new to this field, this industry. To work on something that would eventually find its place in the world.
What are your hobbies that complement filmmaking?
I’m a student of literature. So, needless to say, I read a lot. I’m also interested in photography and anything arts. These, I believe, greatly complement my filmmaking.
What’s next?
We just wrapped up a special screening of Slaves of the Empire in Kochi last weekend. I’m working on my next documentary. It’s about a woman bodybuilder in Kochi — her triumphs and tribulations. Then, there’s the Yamagata International Documentary Film Festival in Japan to look forward to. I have sent my work for consideration.