[The following interview was conducted for the Forum section of the Berlinale, where the filmmaker’s debut feature Members of the Problematic Family had its world premiere in February 2026.]

 

Berlinale Forum: Welcome, Gowtham. I’m extremely honoured to have your film in our lineup. I’d like to start by asking you to kindly describe your journey to becoming a filmmaker.

R. Gowtham: Thank you. It took quite a long time, actually. I was preparing for competitive exams for the civil services for a while. I had plenty of time to watch movies and read literature. People at home were hoping to see me as a government official, but I wasn’t doing that. I was totally into stuff like Andrei Rublev (1966), (1963), the film magazine ‘Sight and Sound’, and the website ‘They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’. I was downloading things through torrents. I didn’t pass the exams, not even the preliminaries. But the exposure to literature and movies helped. I went on to study journalism and made some short documentaries. After that, I made this film. I had multiple other jobs before becoming a filmmaker.

Since you didn’t have connections to film schools or the industry, what did it take for you to get together all the people and equipment to start this project?

The people who made this film, we’re a bunch of talkative guys. We’d always talk about making things, but never actually do anything about it. So much so that people would ridicule us for our empty talk. We could’ve spent our entire lifetime in a tea shop talking. But then, Pebbles (2021, directed by P.S. Vinothraj) happened, and its international success gave us the confidence that we could go out and make something. I convinced my childhood friend to put in the money. It was more difficult than convincing a regular producer, but it happened. We didn’t have any hands-on experience; we just went ahead and shot.

But you’re working with actors, not with non-professionals, right?

It’s a mix. Ajith Kumar, who plays Prabha, is from the theatre. So is Karuththadayan, who plays Sellam (and the lead in Pebbles). A couple of them are movie actors, a few others non-professionals. I didn’t give instructions to the actors; it was rather an art of negation. ‘Don’t do this’, ‘I don’t want this’… I didn’t go for too many takes either. One or two were enough for me. You can’t push non-professionals too much; they would be unnerved and would refuse to perform. So we used to pre-roll before the actual action. That’s how we were able to grab certain emotions.

How many days did you shoot altogether?

We shot for 27 days, but the bulk of it was done in 8 to 10 days. Other days were for preparation. There was another section that we shot, a kind of genesis that tells the backstory, but we didn’t include it in the movie.

What about the script and its relation to the preparations? What did you give the actors and what does the script look like with respect to the structure of the film?

RG: It was conceptualised as a four-part work, and we didn’t change anything. This script was decent, I would say, but not conventional. There’s no save-the-cat template or things like that. I thought, let’s treat it as a kind of novella. A single line was equivalent to a shot. It wasn’t formatted like a screenplay. I wasn’t too worried. I had Andrei Tarkovsky’s book ‘Sculpting in Time’ (1985) next to me; I was re-reading passages from it. We were praying. We thought this would be like a cinematic prayer and let the movie find its way.

 

[Read the full interview here]

pebbles

There is a scene early on in P.S. Vinothraj’s first feature Pebbles that takes place in a town bus. Diverging from the story at hand, the director fixates on a series of objects that accompany the passengers: a marapachi doll, a yellow cloth bag, a new set of brass lamps, a CRT television, plastic water carriers. It’s the sort of sentimental detail, each item conveying a world of stories, that gives the film its lived-in quality. As the bus plods along the narrow road, someone smokes one beedi too much. A scuffle ensues, waking up a sleeping baby at the back and bringing the shuttle to a halt.

If these sensations of small-town transit are ostensibly wrought from experience, Pebbles supplements them with material ripped from the headlines. The film unfolds in parched stretches in the outskirts of Madurai in Tamil Nadu. Once there were rivers in in these lands, but all that remain today are signs: empty water canals, drought-resistant vegetation, dying springs. And pebbles. The possibility of agriculture having collapsed, some families have resorted to hunting and consuming rats.

Amid this bleak picture is the story of a father and a son. The man, an alcoholic, seethes with uncontrollable rage at his wife who has left him. The internal movement of the film is closely coupled with the rhythms of this man’s quivering body. Despite the bottle, he walks briskly, his chest heaving, as his child follows him far behind in a mix of fear and concern. For the most part, Pebbles is a horizontal film made of characters traversing the frame from left to right. As the man heads towards his in-laws’ place to find his wife, we also get a tapestry of scenes from the village in the background.

The child, in contrast, is a mute receptacle to his old man’s violence whose muteness is also a force tempering this violence. He wants his family to stay together. When his father sets out to board a bus back to his village to take it out on his wife, he tears up the wad of cash entrusted to him, forcing both of them to walk back home. As a collector of pebbles, the boy knows that this unforgiving landscape has a way of smoothening rough things. Sure enough, the long pedestrian voyage under the scorching summer sun does things to the man’s head, even if it doesn’t entirely cool it down. By the time he reaches home to down some water and food, the film too has settled into a sedate rhythm. Pebbles, then, isn’t as much a story of the terrain as a story by the terrain.

Even when it goes through familiar emotional beats, Pebbles manages to remain fresh, an important quality for a debut work. Vinothraj executes bravura sequences with serpentine camera movements, but he is also concerned with capturing a child’s confusion within a conflict situation. His film is about survival, about life in its barest details, but it doesn’t rule out the capacity for aesthetic experience: waving a balloon out the bus window, transforming dry leaves into a simulated rain shower, collecting feathers and pieces of a broken mirror. And pebbles.

 

[Originally written for the International Film Festival Rotterdam]