'When the elephant walks, the forest walks with them.’ Thudarum starts with this note, and it does have a ‘tusker tale’.
The backstory, however, traces back to ace photographer K R Sunil’s elephant memory.
As a ‘humanist’ photographer who has met countless people, listened to their stories, and engaged with their lives, Sunil, built this story from an image he saw 12 years ago, an image that nagged him for long.
Released without the burden of hype, Thudarum is now running to packed theatres, fuelled solely by audience appreciation. While it’s no cult classic, the film certainly seems to have made the viewers happy. Especially Mohanlal fans. And there is an emotional journey that’s embedded well.
TNIE sits down for a chat with Sunil, who conceived the story and co-wrote the film with director Tharun Moorthy. He speaks about the backstory, working with Mohanlal, and his journey as a photographer.
You studied sculpture at Government Arts College in Thrissur. What led you to photography?
It was a time when the campus witnessed a lot of protests and agitations. Classes were often disrupted, and we rarely had a regular academic schedule.
During that phase, I started travelling a lot. It was on one of those journeys that I met a photographer named Krishnakumar from my hometown, Kodungallur. He was a close friend of filmmaker G Aravindan. Meeting Krishnakumar was a turning point. He introduced me to books and magazines such as National Geographic, packed with photographs that told deeply human stories. After that, I began to see photography as a great medium to express the raw, complex layers of human life.
You are regarded as one of the pioneers of documentary photography in Kerala. Today, many young talents are stepping into that space. What are your thoughts on this trend?
I did a photography series in 2016 about the ports and the people connected to them. After that, many started doing similar works. Seeing this makes me really happy.
What project are you currently working on?
All my previous series have been connected like ports in some way. I can only say that this one, too, is connected to the same theme.
Coming to the film Thudarum, you had once mentioned that the story took root in your mind at a police station. Could you share that story?
Twelve years ago, as I was passing by the Kodungallur police station, I happened to notice a frail, worn-out man standing outside, looking intently at the building. The station yard was packed with seized vehicles. At that moment, a thought crossed my mind: What if one of those vehicles belonged to him? What if he shared a deep, emotional bond with it? What if he were trapped in a helpless situation, unable to reclaim it?
It was just a passing thought, but it stayed with me. As days went by, that thought began to grow in my mind, taking on layers and depth. Eventually, it turned into a story.
From the very beginning, I didn’t see it as just a story, it came to me cinematically. So, I wrote it as a screenplay.
What caused the long gap between that initial spark and the film finally taking shape?
Though a couple of directors came on board at different points, for some reason, things just didn’t work out. As the years passed, I felt the script needed some reworking. Subsequently, I got busy with my photography series.
But right from the beginning, [producer] Rejaputhra Renjith, who’s a close friend of mine, was part of this journey. In fact, I would say he loved the story even more than I did. Then, Mohanlal heard the story and gave a thumbs-up.
Interestingly, though the central character was someone I had created, something that lived in my notes and imagination, Mohanlal, Antony Perumbavoor, and Renjith ettan felt like they already knew this person. They said it was like they had met this character many times — through their interactions with taxi drivers, through real-life stories. I think that’s one of the reasons they connected with the story from the beginning.
What was Mohanlal’s initial reaction to the storyline?
For me, Lalettan was always someone I admired from a distance. He was almost unreachable. So when he listened to my story and responded with such genuine curiosity, I was elated.
At one point, he even offered his Ambassador car for the shoot.
But we chose not to use it because we didn’t want to risk damaging something he values so much. That showed how invested he was in the subject. And in many ways, that spirit, that sincerity, it’s what you see in this film.
How did Tharun Moorthy come on board?
It was during the last Kochi-Muziris Biennale that Tharun Moorthy first heard the story from Renjith ettan.
He visited my photography exhibition space, and that’s where we really connected. I shared with him my ideas, my journey, and everything I had been carrying with me for years. We synced almost immediately.
We both believe in the emotional depth of human experience, something that’s often missing in many contemporary films. Tharun is someone who enjoys telling stories about relationships, about emotional undercurrents. I had seen that in his earlier work, especially in Saudi Vellakka, which I loved.
So we started working together on reworking the script. We knew that certain elements had to be updated for today’s context. Over the past two years, the two of us were involved in shaping this script. That’s how this new version came to life.
The character of ‘George sir’ has received as much applause as the protagonist... how did you arrive at ad guru Prakash Varma for the role?
Just like a hero, such a story needs a strong villain as well. So, from the very beginning, I had envisioned a villain with multiple layers. The character had a clearly defined transformation arc within the narrative. Tharun developed that aspect extensively.
Prakash is a friend of mine. I got introduced to him through [cinematographer/director] Shyju Khalid, and I have known him for about three years. Once we got the dates from Mohanlal, we had to kick-start the project within a month. We were in a rush to find a good villain. None of the faces we came across matched what we had in mind.
It was around that time, quite unexpectedly, that Prakash happened to call me as he visited Ernakulam. When I saw him, I could immediately visualise him as the villain in our story! I asked if he would be interested in doing the role, and he was on board pretty quickly.
There are a lot of metaphorical references in the character, as well as in the music and sound design...
That idea came from Tharun. He wanted to connect natural elements to the story. Since rain, landslide, and the forest itself stand as prominent characters in the film, the thought arose why not extend that metaphorical approach to the characters as well? And that’s how those elements were brought into the character design and music, too.
The film makes beautiful use of folk songs. Was that your idea? Or was it consciously included to align with the current trend?
The forest is not just a backdrop in this story; it plays a major role, becoming a living, breathing presence in the film. Its wildness and mist contribute to the emotional landscape of the narrative. We felt that nothing could be more fitting for that place than folk songs. Jakes Bejoy beautifully composed them and gave us exactly what we wanted. Tharun’s precise interventions were also there.
Your photography projects are connected to humans, emotions, and climate. Would you say that the same influence is visible in Thudarum?
It is there naturally. But as I mentioned earlier, Tharun and I share a similar thought process, and we like the same kind of cinema. Every little detail in the film carries both our imprints. But it was after Tharun came on board that the film grew this big. The emotional core might be mine, but many of the finer textures and the layers that add depth are his contributions.
Many are calling this Mohanlal’s true comeback — a celebration of the actor himself. Did you witness any magical ‘Lalettan moments’ on sets?
There have been many such moments. When a character I created is brought to life by him, it’s beyond anything I ever envisioned. There were moments when tears filled my eyes. I was amazed by his dedication. Even when he was unwell, he still managed to do fight scenes and worked throughout the night for six days in the pouring rain. Shobana, inside the house, slept on a bench. She could have gone to her caravan, but it was the incredible dedication and passion for cinema that made them do it without any complaints. When you see all of this, you understand why they are so great. Cinema, location, the people there, and the art – these are their very breath.
At what point did Shobana become part of the film?
Initially, we spoke to Jyotika. She has great respect for Malayalam cinema and its audience. She really liked the idea and when she was getting halfway through the story, she called Surya, who came over to discuss things with us. However, due to some date issues, we eventually reached out to Shobana. Her involvement turned out to be a huge blessing for us. Since this film was the return of the Mohanlal-Shobana combo after many years, there was renewed hope for a larger family audience. Shobana immediately agreed after hearing the story.
Did your experience in photography influence your approach to scriptwriting?
I can’t explain the influence of photography in this film, but it’s photography that has kept me connected to life. I am an introvert, but with a camera in hand, I feel like I can go out and interact with people. It’s magical. It’s as if nature itself is doing something for me, allowing me to meet so many people by chance. The stories hidden in silence have a way of finding their way to me. And I have had the opportunity to experience so much of life.
Any other film projects in the pipeline?
I have stories in my mind, but I can’t talk about them now. I want to take forward photography and cinema together. My new show is coming up in Mumbai and I am preparing for it. Just because Thudarum has become a big success, I am not going to do anything in the excitement of it. There was a peaceful time when this film was made. That is something I need for the next.