From intense dramas to thrillers and voice acting, Parvathy Thiruvothu is embracing the unexpected. As the Malayalam thriller, Pradhama Drishtya Kuttakkar, takes her into the world of cops, she talks about finding the inner compass of her character, why she refuses roles that glorify beliefs she disagrees with, and her hope for cinema that takes more creative risks.
You seem to have found a new home in the cop universe: Pradhama Drishtya Kuttakkar, Dhootha, and Daayra.
I have no idea. I think they have adopted me and decided to make me one of them. I got initiated into it. And I truly believe now, since everyone’s talking about manifestation, that people would tell me, “Oh, Parvathy, you’re doing these really intense drama roles,” and I was hoping and praying that I would get to do a comedy or a thriller. So I think the universe conspired and said, “Let’s give you a thriller first.” Hopefully, comedy is not too far away.
In Pradhama Drishtya Kuttakkar, you play Sub-Inspector Aleena, who is navigating a male-dominated world. What drew you to the story?
I knew the film was going to be a good watch. I knew that the director, Shahad Nilambur, and editor Chaman Chacko were going to come up with something extraordinary, something that even we actors, who knew the screenplay, may not have been expecting. I remember sitting in the theatre and gasping along with the audience, since I myself hadn’t watched the complete film before release. It is experiential in its treatment, and it makes you think, which is a truly wondrous feeling to have after watching any film.
Talking about inhabiting Aleena’s world, I have had far too many conversations with cops. They spoke to me not just as cops but as humans, because they too wanted to understand what I might be going through. I’ve had the privilege of that, because not a lot of people get to have continued conversations with cops who are trying to bring things to justice. For Aleena, the core is that she cannot afford to give up or lose this life. For me, Aleena is a child, that inner child who wants her family and feels she deserves one. So most of the time it’s a switch between an abandoned child and the loneliness that engulfs her.
You also lent your voice to Kareena Kapoor Khan in Daayra, an actor whose personality and cinematic language are so different from yours.
“I go by the intention of the filmmaker, whoever it is, and the overall feeling we are left with after reading the screenplay. If I align with that, I could play a character who is extremely opposite to who I am or what I believe in.”
It was phenomenal. I have been getting these characters and amazing spaces in abundance, like the drama and now the thrillers. So when Meghna Gulzar called me for this job, I couldn’t believe it, because for the longest time I’ve been wanting to be a voice actor as well. I look at actors in Hollywood who give their voice to The Lion King, The Jungle Book, and I would just be so impressed that they are living characters with just their voice, and that’s also possible. You don’t have to embody it entirely in your being. Even by not using your physicality, by using your voice, you do experience a character. And my wish came true when I was given someone as incomparable and inimitable as Kareena Kapoor Khan.
Does your politics need to align with the stories you choose to tell?
I do. I do have that line, and it’s a very big, fat, thick borderline. I go by the intention of the filmmaker, whoever it is, and the overall feeling we are left with after reading the screenplay. If I align with that, I could play a character who is extremely opposite to who I am or what I believe in. Let’s say I’m a feminist, and let’s say I am playing a woman whom patriarchy has weaponised against women, and I have to be that woman. If I’m given that character, I would so happily jump at it and take it. My job as an actor allows me to be a beautiful anthropological investigator of sorts. I’m investigating how you became this person, who taught you these things. Let me learn that from scratch, so that my empathy will also hopefully go towards people I disagree with. But if the movie itself is going to glorify that character and what they believe in, then I’m not going to be a part of it.
If there was just one structural change you wanted to see in cinema, what would it be?
I’d actually want all of us to lean into our chaos a little bit. I think there is far too much playing it safe with movies. The fatigue is that I don’t think we are truly getting creatively satisfied while making things. When an artist is not getting that satisfaction, when we are chasing deadlines and focusing on a set of agendas to achieve, I don’t believe we are truly thinking outside the box and making a variety of movies like we used to. Now, Malayalam still has a little bit of an edge over many other film industries, I would say.
I keep saying, bring back romances. I miss the yearning. Everyone seems to be moving into “yeah, love story, but make it a tragedy.” I’m like, okay, but before you make it a tragedy, could you truly make them fall in love? I feel that halfway through, before you even get into the depth of feeling things, they have moved on to the next plot point.
Some of our films feel like a collection of reels. I think there is truth in one aspect, though: collectively, our attention span is at risk.
Your next is Storm, Hrithik Roshan’s digital debut as producer. Is it an all-women team?
Storm is extremely stormy. It is as chaotic as it can get, and fantastic. An entire show is being headlined by women. I love being asked the question, “Who is the hero in your project?” I’m like, I’m the hero, and they have no idea how to respond to that. Much like that, in Storm, we are the heroes. Whoever is leading the story is the hero. It doesn’t have to be a man or a woman. It can be anyone.