For filmmaker Anoop Lokkur, the journey of cinema has been one of self-discovery. Originally from Bengaluru and now based in Melbourne, he left a corporate career to pursue his passion at the Victorian College of the Arts. His short films, including ‘Long Distance’, have explored human relationships with quiet honesty, and now his debut feature, ‘Don’t Tell Mother’, turns that lens on his own childhood.

Set in 1990s Bangalore, the film tells the story of nine-year-old Aakash, who quietly endures corporal punishment at school, and his mother, who carries the weight of societal expectations in silence. Born from Anoop’s own memories—the fear, the love, and the small, often unseen acts of resilience—the film became a tender meditation on family, grief, and the bonds that shape us.

The Indo-Australian production recently premiered at the 30th Busan International Film Festival in the ‘Windows to Asian Cinema’ section, earning praise for its emotional depth and intimacy. In this conversation, Anoop shares the inspiration behind the film, the challenges of bringing such a personal story to the screen, and what he hopes audiences take away from it.

What inspired you to turn your deeply personal childhood experiences into a feature film? How did you know this story needed to be told on screen?
The idea began with a simple conversation with my wife, which kept playing in my mind for days. It made me think a lot about my own childhood and some of the things I had experienced. The more I reflected on it, the more I felt there was a story worth exploring.

Cinema has always been the medium that moves me the most, so it felt like the right way to bring those memories to life. Once I began writing, the story kept unfolding naturally, and I just trusted that instinct. The only other form I’ve ever imagined for this story is as a graphic novel, which I would love to create one day if I can find an illustrator to collaborate with.

Can you walk us through the process of developing the screenplay for ‘Don’t Tell Mother’? How much of it is fictionalised versus drawn directly from your memories?
The seed came from that conversation with my wife, but once I knew the direction of the story, it became a matter of showing up every morning to write (again inspired by my wife who woke up at 4.30 every morning to write). Some days the words flowed, other days it was just me staring at the laptop. A lot of the film is drawn from my own memories, though some parts were reimagined for the screen. I tried to stay emotionally truthful to the experiences, even when I fictionalised details.

The film sensitively portrays the quiet struggles of childhood and motherhood in a patriarchal society. What message do you hope audiences take away after watching it?
It’s such a personal film, and I hope it takes audiences down the memory lane of their own childhoods and makes them think about their mothers, the love they’ve given them, and the quiet sacrifices they often made.

Shooting a period piece set in 1990s Bangalore must have required careful attention to detail. What was your approach to recreating that era authentically?
I grew up in Bangalore in the 90s, so I remember that period very vividly. Fortunately, my family and friends still had many of the objects I wanted like furniture, utensils, even old toys. I worked closely with Jessica and Paro on the production design, and we relied on photographs, from clothes to the everyday objects inside the house. I wanted to transport the audiences back to the 90s just as I was while I was writing the script.

What were some of the biggest challenges you faced while making Don’t Tell Mother, especially as an Indo-Australian co-production with a small, dedicated team?
Working with a small team can be challenging but I actually like the intimacy, it makes the process feel like a family effort. Of course, there were the usual hurdles that go with making a film, especially when it’s a small team, we all wore multiple hats on the set. But what stood out was how much everyone embraced the collaboration. The Australian crew and the Indian crew loved working together. The Aussie crew loved the food! Dosa, idli and filter coffee became daily favourites. Despite the challenges, that sense of collaboration gave the film its warmth.

Having your world premiere at the prestigious Busan International Film Festival must be a huge milestone. How does it feel to present your debut film on such a significant platform?
It feels incredible. Busan has always been known as one of the most important platforms for Asian cinema, so to premiere my first feature here feels both humbling and thrilling. I’m excited to see how audiences respond to the film, and I’m also curious about where this journey takes it next.

Busan is known for showcasing a wide spectrum of Asian cinema. How do you see Don’t Tell Mother fitting within the current landscape of contemporary Asian films?
Don’t Tell Mother is very rooted in Bangalore and my childhood memories, so in that sense, it brings a very specific and local voice to the screen. But the themes of family, nostalgia, the innocence of childhood, and how our upbringing shapes us are universal, and that’s what I hope connects it to audiences everywhere. For me, it’s also about sharing a slice of Old Bangalore culture with the world. It’s a personal story from a place, but the feelings that it carries is something people can relate to no matter where they are from.

What advice would you give to other emerging filmmakers who aspire to premiere their films at international festivals like Busan?
I’m still learning so much myself, but one thing I’d say is: submit your film to festivals once it’s truly finished, rather than at the work in progress stage, especially if it’s your debut. I’d also add that it’s important to write stories that feel truthful to you, and to surround yourself with a team that believes in the same vision.