The filmmaker talks about the response to his Telugu film, why Bhooma’s story of toxic love feels real to many, and why Rashmika Mandanna and Dheekshith Shetty were perfect for these roles
Sometimes, box-office returns alone are not an indicator of a film’s success. Take, for instance, Rahul Ravindran’s The Girlfriend, starring Rashmika Mandanna and Dheekshith Shetty. The film follows a young woman named Bhooma (Rashmika Mandanna), who is nearly forced into a relationship by Vikram (Dheekshith Shetty) and soon finds herself all alone and far removed from the person she aspired to be. In just five days, the relationship drama — centred on Bhooma discovering herself and choosing her own path — has crossed Rs 20 crore in worldwide gross. But that alone isn’t the story. Across the Telugu states and beyond, audiences have been so generous with their feedback that the team is genuinely overwhelmed.
“The sheer intensity and volume of reactions is yet to sink in. You don’t often come across cinema that compels audiences to write and express themselves through poetry. They’ve been sharing personal stories, and it is deeply disturbing to hear what they’ve been through. But it is just as moving to know that the film healed many, and told them they were not alone,” says Rahul, who received 17 poems in his direct messages in just four days.
“For now, I’m just taking it all in and not thinking about anything else,” says Rahul, who won the National Award for Best Screenplay for his romcom Chi La Sow (2018), and who is affectionately called “Green Flag Rahul” on social media for his innate decency. Even now, he has patiently responded on X (formerly Twitter) to a user who misunderstood the dupatta reference in the film and publicly called out a young girl who had done the same after watching it.
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The Girlfriend is his third film after the tepid Manmadhudu 2 (2019), and the actor-director seems back where he belongs — in the space of complicated relationship dramas with no real villain, where the writing nudges you to think rather than judge. It also matters that a film like this was made without forced comedy tracks or purely ‘reel-worthy’ songs. It’s admirable that not a single review mislabelled it as a romance.
The film Rahul was originally set to make with Rashmika and Geetha Arts was an entirely different project. However, that didn’t fall into place. Soon after, the world was hit by the Covid-19 pandemic, and this film began much later. In this interview, Rahul talks about the genesis of the film, how the writing and performances helped it resonate with audiences, and why the reception still feels surreal. Excerpts from the interview:
Did you expect this sort of response for the character of Bhooma Devi?
No. But even while we were making the film, Rashmika told me that I had no idea what impact it would have on people. Even now, in the beginning, while I could see the response, I didn’t fully understand it. I was operating from a space of second-hand empathy. Now, I think I get it better. So many people are victims of toxic relationships. Some in the audience — including men — saw themselves in Bhooma, and her victory felt personal.
You write your characters without any judgment. Does that come easily to you?
In real life too, I try to approach people without judgment. I guess that spills over into my writing. I give myself enough time to understand why they do what they do. Even with Vikram, I tried to see why he’s made the way he is, what his backstory might be… I think the starting point is that you have to have empathy for any character. Everything else flows from that.
Were you ever worried about your intent versus public perception, given that some filmmakers have had that heartbreak in recent years?
Not really. Long before I put pen to paper, I flesh out the entire film in my head and keep working through issues. So the writing process itself hardly takes a fortnight. I wrote what is now The Girlfriend in 11 days, and the fourth draft is what I took to shoot. With this film, I was very clear that the claps and whistles must not land in the wrong places. Mainly because this film is my reaction to a popular moment on screen — I wanted to show the same incident but from the other angle, so that it makes the audience uncomfortable.
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Take the character of Vikram, for instance. Some feel he’s one-note. But I also know many people didn’t think he did anything wrong until the “door scene.” They felt, He loves her so much, why is she getting upset? After all, he does have redeeming qualities — he never abuses her, never cheats on her, never hits her, dances like a dream… If audiences focused only on those, there was a real risk of misplaced empathy. I had to make sure the film didn’t just cater to that section which already knows what’s wrong, but also makes the others realise that what they’re watching is wrong.
Bhooma, again, is written as someone with a certain naïveté, someone very innocent to the workings of the world.
It was a conscious choice. Ten years down the line, I might regret writing her like the Virgin Mary, but I had to do that to make all sections of the audience empathise with her. Otherwise, the film may have appealed only to those who already believe what I’m saying. It wouldn’t have made them reflect or introspect. Possibly this is a cop-out, but if I had written this with a Durga-like character, some sections might have said she deserved it. I made this call because I wanted to nudge audiences to go home and reflect. That was important for me. I wanted to walk halfway and have the audience meet me in the middle.
One reason many young women have related to the film is because they see themselves on screen. How did you decide on certain quirks for your characters?
Most of the women I’ve written so far (Chi La Sow and The Girlfriend) are amalgamations of the women I’ve met in my life. All you have to do is look into their eyes and understand what they feel. What makes them retreat into a shell? What microaggressions do they face? The character played by Rohini ma’am is based on a woman I once met — someone who disappeared into her veil, someone who was seen working but never heard speaking, who never made eye contact. And she remained like that in a home that was otherwise friendly. She was the product of generational conditioning. Later, I noticed similar inequalities in other relationships around me. I would like to hope that with every passing generation, women are treated better.
How did you decide to visually depict Bhooma’s alienation?
A narcissist will methodically start isolating you from everyone, leaving you with just them. Bhooma is an introvert and doesn’t really have a big circle of friends. In one year, Vinay and Harshitha create a safe space for her; she learns to express herself. Vikram actively cuts Vinay out of her life.
Bhooma (Rashmika Mandanna) is nearly forced into a relationship by Vikram (Dheekshith Shetty) and soon finds herself all alone and far removed from the person she aspired to be.
Harshitha is happiest when Bhooma becomes someone’s girlfriend, but recedes into the shadows for the same reason. Ironically, the person who cuts herself out of every equation is Bhooma. She lets go of Durga’s hand and grabs Vikram’s — that’s her inability to see things clearly. Only later does Durga help her see. Her company has the best effect on Bhooma.
Some of us felt the father (Rao Ramesh) gets away lightly after all the verbal violence…
I would have liked to add more there, but then the film would have become a father-daughter story rather than a daughter’s story. He smothers her, never relinquishes control, and trips her up. I wanted to show Bhooma’s growth and how their relationship evolves into something like a strict mother and a petulant child. He even calls her amma when she insists he get his tests done. In many societies, including ours, the notion of family is strong. And even when we stand up to our parents and stop giving them power over us, we are unable to abandon them. Bhooma learns to create space between them and yet not abandon him. She accepts him again, on her own terms.
Would this film have worked without Rashmika and Dheekshith?
No. It’s a character-driven drama and I needed committed actors who would dive deep into their roles. The film is made of close-ups, so I needed actors in exceptional form who would be with me for the 48 days of shoot. While casting, I always focus on the eyes. For Bhooma, I wanted someone whose eyes could carry her emotional world — and Rashmika’s are almost transparent. Her doubt and turbulence shine through; you can sense her thoughts just by looking into her eyes. I needed that for Bhooma.
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Dheekshith, in real life, is the sweetest person, so you can imagine what it took for him to play Vikram. I was looking for someone who looked like everyone’s crush and every boy’s envy. I saw him in an interview during Dasara promotions and decided he was my Vikram. I needed that sharpness in his eyes so people would never know whether he was sinister or warm.
Everyone now wants a Prof Sudheer. Who is your Prof Sudheer?
I often name some characters after my friends; others inherit traits from people I admire. My Prof Sudheer would be Prof Mathew, who taught me at MICA. That kurta–denims–sandals ensemble is all him. He was a massive influence — a father figure in college and in the hostel. I wanted to be a filmmaker from Class 9, and even though he technically wasn’t my teacher, I would go sit in his class. He turned my dream into a burning, raging passion at an impressionable age. He was the one who told me that all cinema, even comedy, is political.
Why do you think you are considered a ‘safe person’ by many?
Ah, you think so? I hold myself to a standard, and I constantly work on myself. We’re all born with certain perceived biases and we have to confront them and unlearn them. You have to be self-aware.