Onkar Kulkarni (BOMBAY TIMES; February 7, 2020)

Kunal Kemmu is happy that with films like Kalank (2019) and Malang he has got opportunities to play characters that have many layers and shades to them.

In a conversation with BT, he talks about his career choices, dealing with failure and how his daughter Inaaya Naumi has changed his life. Read on:

You started your journey in Bollywood as a child artiste with Sir (1993). How do you look back at the time you have spent in the film industry?
I have seen Bollywood grow and how! Filmmaking has constantly been evolving. Sync sound and digital film came in much later. I think we shot Kalyug (2005) and Traffic Signal (2007) in the old-school manner. Luckily, because of that, I learnt how to dub. As a kid, too, I would dub for every film. A lot of new actors, who worked with sync sound, find it difficult to dub. Today, there is a massive change in the kind of movies that are being made, the audience’s taste has changed, the platforms for watching films have changed, too. This industry is highly unpredictable, and so, I don’t think one should take success or failure seriously.

How do you deal with failure?
We should know that all that glitters is not gold. The biggest star in the country also faces some problem or another. People should invest in relationships and family because that is your life and work is just a part of it. Many actors have been talking about depression these days. It is not a good place to be in. As the industry is growing, so is the influx of talent, and sometimes there aren’t enough opportunities for everyone. A lot of talented people in Bollywood don’t get what they deserve, and I know how frustrating it is for them. As far as my journey is concerned, I think I chose the right profession. Yes, it has been a roller-coaster ride for me, but that is part and parcel of every actor’s journey. Right now, I am at a stage where new avenues and opportunities are coming my way, and I am enjoying this space. The digital space has opened up, and I got to try my hand at it. In terms of movies, I was typecast as a comic actor, but luckily for me, Kalank happened last year. Unfortunately, the film didn’t do well, but the love I got for the part I played was amazing. Now, Malang is coming up in which I am doing something new, and I am excited about it.

You said a lot of deserving people don’t get opportunities in Bollywood. Your parents Ravi and Jyoti Kemmu are actors, while your grandfather Moti Lal Kemmu was an award-winning playwright. What’s your take on the debate around nepotism?
My dad just acted in one film. He is largely a director (directed TV series Amrapali in 2002, was an assistant director on TV show Dekh Bhai Dekh in 1993 and also films like Zubeidaa, 2001, and Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose: The Forgotten Hero, 2005). He would assist Shyam babu (Benegal) and always called himself an art filmmaker. He always told me that he can teach me acting, but cannot help me with my career as he lacked connections. My mom acted in just one show, Gul Gulshan Gulfaam. I feel I am lucky, because I did a show as a child artiste, and that got me noticed.

Someone who was casting for Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke (1993) saw that show and got me on board. With that film, I got access to someone like Bhatt saab (Mahesh Bhatt), who was very fond of me. When he approached me for Zakhm (1998), I wanted to turn it down as I was in my 10th grade and wanted to focus on studies. He said that he would not make the film if I am not a part of it, and that’s when I changed my mind. Post Zakhm, I told him that I wanted to take a break from acting as I wasn’t sure if I should continue being an actor. He understood my sentiments and said that if I ever wanted to be an actor, I should contact him. For the next five years, I did theatre in college. Then, I wanted to give movies a shot and so, I met Bhatt saab again. Within six months, he offered me Kalyug (2005). At that time, the film was titled Blue Film, and nobody wanted to do it because of its sensational title. I was apprehensive, too, but I liked the script and took the plunge.

You were the leading actor in Kalyug, but later on, you did a lot of films where you were seen in supporting roles. Were you unhappy with the way your career was shaping up?
Yes, of course! Everybody wants to be the next Amitabh Bachchan; I did, too. It was the time when cinema was changing. Corporates were coming in, the discipline of filmmaking was changing, filmmakers were experimenting with newer genres and multi-starrer comedy films became popular. After Kalyug and Traffic Signal, I did a multi-starrer, Dhol (2007), which featured three other actors. Many people advised me against doing the film, but I had made up my mind. I have no qualms about being a part of a multi-starrer as long as my character is memorable. Malang, too, has many actors, but why should I complain as it allows me to do something different. I am happy that this film gave me an opportunity to work with Anil Kapoor. He has been an inspiration. The cast and crew had to keep reminding themselves that he is a senior actor because he would be like one of us during the shoot. The kind of energy he brings on the sets makes one feel like he is the youngest guy on the sets. In fact, we couldn’t match up to his energy.

You have been a part of comedy films, and now here you are, a part of a thriller. Does shooting for a film like Malang leave an impact on you?
Comedy, as a genre, doesn’t drain you emotionally as compared to films like Kalyug, Traffic Signal or Malang. At times, I have been physically exhausted after finishing a day’s shoot for a comedy film, but mentally I wasn’t tired. When you do serious films, you might shoot just one scene in an entire day, but it can drain you emotionally.

You celebrated your fifth wedding anniversary recently. How has your relationship with your wife Soha Ali Khan evolved over the last few years, especially after parenthood?
We have been married for five years, but we have been together for 12 years now. We are a lot alike. We try to have a difference of opinion just to understand the other side of the situation. We debate a lot; sometimes, the arguments are heated (laughs!). I like the fact that she is an independent woman, who has her own views. I value her advice and respect her a lot. It’s very important in any relationship to respect and value each other. I don’t think anything changed between us after marriage, but yes, it did after Inaaya was born. We had a different role to play, our timetable changed, our plans changed, everything that we had to do was now centered around our child. She is the main cast, while we are the supporting actors in the house. We are learning how to be parents. Soha is doing a lot more than I do in Inaaya’s life. She is doing all the hard stuff and I don’t have any complaints regarding that (laughs!).

Madhureeta Mukherjee (BOMBAY TIMES; January 7, 2020)

It takes a lot of courage to make a film based on a historical figure. It needs time, patience, passion and of course, big monies to see an ambitious idea make its way to the silver screen. Ajay Devgn, a supremely talented actor and sharp producer, who marks his 100th film with Tanhaji: The Unsung Warrior, stresses that India might not have the big budgets of Hollywood, but it has talent galore. And he swears by his sword that with this film, he wants to prove that. Read on…

In 2002, you did The Legend Of Bhagat Singh. What made you want to revisit the pages of history again, and this time, explore the life of warrior Subedar Tanhaji Malusare, a military leader in the army of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj?
When I played Bhagat Singh, I remember that the film lingered with me for a long time. And it stays with you because they were great people and you know that you can’t be like them. You wonder what his mindset was and what was he thinking when he made those sacrifices. When you watch a film, you can even assume for a moment that this is fictional, but to sit back and think that someone actually did all this in reality, is unthinkable. When I heard about Tanhaji and the way he fought for the country, I realised that if he wasn’t there, the map of India would have changed. He became a local hero. Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj is known across the country for his heroism. Tanhaji is known mostly in Maharashtra and what we know of him is mostly through school textbooks, and that, too, is limited to probably a small paragraph. It is also not part of textbooks across all boards of education. My children didn’t study about him in school, some of us did.

The fact that he was a warrior whose victories and sacrifice is not as known and celebrated as many others – did this draw you to the subject? You are apparently planning to make more films on unsung heroes? So, these heroes could be from any region, any part of our country, right?
Yes! Today, we are talking about Tanhaji from Maharashtra, tomorrow, it could be a hero from Punjab or Rajasthan. In fact, they will not necessarily belong to only a certain era, we could have unsung heroes from this era, too. There could be heroes who didn’t go to the battlefield, but have done something commendable for our society. There are so many such stories that are relevant in today’s times. That’s how the idea came about, and I want to take stories of such heroes to the audience around the world. We have so many such inspiring stories in India. I am not saying that after watching the film you will become like Tanhaji, you cannot. But, at least, we will know how much effort and pain has gone into our struggle for freedom, so that we learn to respect it. The other part is, when we make films, we try to make commercial movies with a great screenplay, which will intrigue and grip you. So, when I heard the script, I felt that even if I was making a fictional drama on a subject of this nature, the story I would be looking for would be something like this. Even if you treat this like a fiction drama, it works perfectly.

Such films require scale, budget and huge investment in terms of the kind of time, and the blood and sweat spent on it…
I have always done this in my productions, right from films like Hindustan Ki Kasam (1999) and Raju Chacha (2000). There is always a ‘first’ that we have done in the industry. In the film Pyaar To Hona Hi Tha in 1998 (which was 50 per cent my production), it was the first time that a film had a musical promotional video. Back then, there was no such trend of promotional song videos. Now, everyone is doing it. I was always technically very strong, thanks to my father. I have always strived to take things notches higher. Yes, for a film like this you need heavy budgets, but if you are sensible, smart and invest time wisely (we have been working on this film for four years and we shot for 8-9 months), you are sorted. If you are smart, then you don’t need that kind of budgets. This is what I want to prove with this film, that you don’t need big budgets to make big films, you need to be smart and intelligent. The budget of this film would be like any other big-budget film being made here. It’s not that we have gone haywire with budgets, it’s like any other big-scale movie. When you see the quality of the film, you will know that it is the kind of stuff you have not seen being done in India before. The kind of 3D we have in the film, it is what you would have seen in Avengers or other Hollywood films. And it is all done by Indians. Except, for 2-3 action experts, who were with me during Shivaay, too, as I am comfortable with them when it comes to action, everything else has been done here, within our budget.

A great hero needs an antagonist of that stature. Whose idea was it to cast Saif Ali Khan in the role of Udaybhan Rathod, who headed the Mughal army in the battle against the Marathas at Sinhagad Fort?
It was my idea to get him on board. I have been watching the film during post-production, and from what I have seen, Saif is outstanding in the film. He has taken over the film. We needed someone like him to play this character, who is quirky, evil and has a personality that can stand tall in front of the protagonist. You see, in a film like Avengers, too, the villain is stronger than all of them put together. Everyone knows that Tanhaji was a great warrior, I don’t have to try too hard to show that as we are aware of his bravery. I need to show who is he fighting with, and what makes him so great. The antagonist needed to have a powerful presence on screen and we have really worked on Saif’s look and style. Earlier, we thought of casting someone new to play Udaybhan. Then it struck me that if we took someone who has played a villain before, then it would not be as exciting. Saif brings a certain personality to the character which it needed.

What was Saif’s reaction when he first heard the script?
He read the script, loved it and said, ‘Give me five great scenes and I will do it.’ Eventually, he had about 20, so I guess it all worked out well.

Sometime around 2015, you had said that we think our audience has changed, and hence, the industry is taking drastic steps and trying all kinds of cinema. Now, five years later, do you believe that the audience has truly evolved in their sensibilities, and they are greedy for anything that entertains or moves them?
Yes, the audience has evolved, and they are accepting every kind of cinema. They are liking the kind of films that I believed in during the 90s. People said that I was stupid to do films like Thakshak (1999), Zakhm (1998) and Raincoat (2004). Today, every actor is doing it and it’s working. With multiplexes, that section of the audience is coming in and actors are willing to do all kinds of cinema. It is a great phase for the industry, and we are at a point where we can make what we believe in. In the 90s, actors could not think about switching genres, today, it is accepted.

And such cinema is not viewed as offbeat anymore…
Cuts in…Now, we call it cinema that is ‘high on content’. Even when we are making commercial films, we need to ensure that it has the right kind of drama and sensibility that will appeal to the audience. You can’t put something stupid or mediocre out there and think that it will work. Just because you have a big film (with a big cast), it does not mean that the content does not matter.

The monitor lizard ‘ghorpad’ angle of the story, which is an important part of Tanhaji Malusare’s tale, is disputed among historians. Like what often happens with most stories rooted in history, there is never a consensus on various facts. Filmmaker Ashutosh Gowariker recently said that he has never met two historians who agree on all facts.
Different books could state different facts, too. If you are specifically talking about the ghorpad, I know that people might disagree, as scientifically, it does not seem possible. We have followed history, kept all the references, but you have to watch the film to see what we have done with it.

The descendants of Tanhaji Malusare have raised certain objections. Has there been any conversation with them, and will you have a screening for them before release?
Well, we have to justify it and you have to explain it to them. The CBFC is very sensible, and wherever they had a doubt, we gave them all the references required. I don’t need to show the film to his descendants because they have been a part of the shoot. There was an argument about where Tanhaji came from, so we have taken the proof from the family and given it to the CBFC. When you are making a film based on history, you are always walking a thin line. We have to dramatise the story…how else will we tell the story? In history books, you won’t find things like…what did Savitribai (his wife) tell Tanhaji when he was leaving for the battle? So, we have to write that, and fictionalise it. That’s a part of storytelling. Otherwise, there is no screenplay, and the whole story is just one chapter.

This marks your 100th film. Would you say that it’s quite an epic way to celebrate such a landmark moment in your career? From 1991 to now, what would you say has changed the most about the film industry and about you?
Honestly, I didn’t realise it was my 100th film, until Om Raut (director of this film) pointed it out. It is a mere coincidence. Today, the industry has become very professional and if I were to compare it to the time when I had started out, it is like two different people. It is like two different industries. Earlier, it wasn’t so professional, of course, it was a lot of fun, which I miss. But now the stakes are too high, and you can’t afford to take it easy. Earlier, we would chill for hours and do masti on set when the shoot was not happening. All that has changed. Now, you have to complete the schedule on time as everything is on a tight budget. Every hour costs money. Personally, I have become more responsible. We used to do 15 films at a time, but now, we are so involved in every project, hence, we are more focused. There is media pressure, too, earlier we never read a review or did promotions of this kind. The film would be slated for release and we were told about it, as simple as that.

You have always spoken about how we need to give the audience that cinematic experience that we often see in Hollywood films…
Yes, I want to share that vision with the audience, and personally, I love doing it, too. I want to show people that, so what if we don’t have the budgets that the West has, we have the talent here. As the budgets scale up, we can do more, but right now, with what we have, we can do what Hollywood does in 2,000 crores. For Tanhaji, playing the character was not as tough as it was being a producer on the project.

Himesh Mankad (MUMBAI MIRROR; February 9, 2019)

With his upcoming home production, Tanhaji which opens in November, Ajay Devgn completes a century run at the movies. The period-drama which has Ajay as Tanaji Malusare, the unsung warrior who fought alongside Shivaji, will be his 100th film (excluding cameos, special appearances and short films). Interestingly, the film will also be his 25th release of the decade (2010-2019), which has been a memorable one with Once Upon A Time In Mumbaai, Golmaal 3 and Golmaal Again, Singham and Singham Returns, Bol Bachchan, Son of Sardaar, Drishyam and Raid to name a few. Ajay was only 22 when he made his debut. “I started my career without thinking about tomorrow, but when I look back, I realise that 28 years have flown past with 100 films,” he smiles.

The son of action director, Veeru Devgan, Vishal rechristened himself Ajay, as there were other actors by the name in the industry then, and exploded in Bollywood in 1991 with a split, balancing himself on two motorbikes in Phool Aur Kaante. It’s still one of the most iconic introductions for a Hindi film hero. He went on to establish himself as an action hero with stunts in films like Jigar, Dilwale, Vijaypath and Suhaag. Two years later, he switched genres with Naajayaz. “Sticking with one genre didn’t excite me as an actor I’ve challenged myself from the beginning,” he stated.

His 26th film, Zakhm, bagged him his first National Award. Four years later, in 2002, he added a second National Award for Rajkumar Santoshi's The Legend of Bhagat Singh. “The two films are close to my heart and not because of the National Awards but because they touched me. Zakhm didn’t need me to perform, I just had to feel the character. Bhagat Singh on other hand, was so inspiring, I felt small when playing the iconic character,” Ajay reminisces.

He’s never shied of experimenting, be it Company, a gangster drama, Deewangee, a psychological thriller, Masti, an adult comedy, Shivaay, an emotional action-drama or Golmaal, a laugh riot. He’s also acted in a Bhojpuri film, Dharti Kahe Pukar Ke. What’s his favourite performance? “That’s not for me to judge, I give my heart and soul to all performances so it’s like choosing between two children,” quips the actor who will have two more releases this year— Total Dhamaal and De De Pyaar De before his 100th film.

At the turn of the millennium, Ajay turned producer with the kid-friendly Raju Chacha and in 2008 made his directorial debut with U Me Aur Hum which he co-scripted. He’s also produced All The Best: Fun Begins, Bol Bachchan, Son Of Sardaar, Shivaay and Helicopter Eela and has cemented a formidable partnership with Rohit Shetty who has directed him in 10 films. "I get along well with everybody. Every director has stood by my side,” he asserts. What has kept him relevant for so long? “The day I learn that, I’ll be around for the next 50 years,” signs off Ajay who turns 50 on April 2.

Chaya Unnikrishnan (DNA; December 8, 2018)

Kunal Kemmu was all set to make his TV debut with the weekend comedy show Kanpur Wale Khuranas. He had even started attending workshops for it and shot a promo that went on air. However, at the last moment, he opted out of it owing to date issues. The Golmaal Again actor, who will be seen next in Karan Johar’s multi-starrer Kalank, has to start filming for the climax scenes in Hyderabad’s Ramoji City from the 14th of this month, while the TV show, for which shooting has already commenced, is slated to go on air on December 15. We spoke to Kunal about what prompted his decision and his take on comedy films. Excerpts...

You were geared up for your debut TV show and had even shot a promo for it. Why did you opt out of it?
There were a lot of things happening even while I was getting into it. I knew that the dates for Kalank’s climax shoot might be around the same time as it was planned. There are a lot of actors involved in the scene, so that couldn’t be shifted. I also realised that television has a fixed schedule and unfortunately, we couldn’t work around the dates. I am shooting for Kalank from December 14 till the end of this month. I’m happy the makers found Aparshakti (Khurana) to host the programme. I’ve known Preeti and Neeti Simoes (producers of the show) for a long time and they suggested we should do something together, but TV is a big commitment for me. This limited edition series of 16 episodes was perfect, but it eventually didn’t work out. We are still hoping we can find something in the future. I wish everyone involved with the show the very best and look forward to watching it soon.

When you eventually make your TV debut, will it be with a comedy show?
I can’t say that, but I like this whole format where you get to improvise, so I still maintain that something like this will interest me.

After starting off with films like Kalyug and Zakhm, you are now firmly entrenched in comedies... 
I love comedies. It’s just that I am generally shy when I meet people for the first time. But once the ice is broken, I am known to be a lot of fun. Yes, after doing serious cinema like Zakhm (1998), Kalyug (2005) and Traffic Signal (2007), filmmakers weren’t sure if I would be good at comedy. Even when I did the ensemble movie Dhol (2007), the makers were wondering why I wanted to explore this genre! But if you remember at the age of eight, I did Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke (1993), which was a funny film. After Dhol, I went on to do movies like 99 (2009), Go Goa Gone (2013) and the Golmaal series where people saw the fun side to me... to the extent that most of the time I am doing comedy now.

Does that mean your forthcoming movies also are comedies?
No, now there are a couple of films that are quite different. I can’t talk much about my part in Kalank. All I can tell you is that I am playing a character that nobody has seen me do before, or since Kalyug happened. There’s another film, which will mark the debut of an ad filmmaker. It’s a dark comedy and has a different way of storytelling. I am excited about that as you will see interesting actors coming together in it.

When do you start shooting for Go Goa Gone 2? 
The scripting is in process right now and the idea is to start in March if everything works out correctly. This film is close to my heart as it was with Go Goa Gone that I learnt how to be a writer (I had penned its dialogues). The movie was with Raj (Nidimoru), (Krishna) DK and me for a long time when we were in the process of putting it together, and finding somebody who will make it. Initially, nobody thought we would do a zombie film and a different kind of comedy, but it was well-received. We had taken three months off for writing it. Now, that the characters are established, there will be something newer in the story, but this time I’m not part of the scripting process.

The movies you are doing now are all multi-starrers...
Firstly, you never go into a film thinking whether you will be playing a solo lead or will it be a multi-starrer. From the business perspective, it makes it easier to do a multi-starrer because the stress of ‘Will this do well at the box office or not’ is shared with everybody and not one person, whether it is a hit or a flop. Apart from that, it’s the story that you enjoy. Golmaal will never work with one hero, so you can’t say, ‘I won’t do it if it’s not a solo lead’.

Despite so many good actors in Bollywood, there aren’t many comedy films that are made in here...
True. Comedies are a tougher genre to work in. A joke can either make you laugh or it can’t. It’s a lot about action and reaction, you always don’t need to say something funny. India has so many different cultures and comedy translates differently everywhere. There is English humour that does not translate so well to Hindi-speaking audience and vice versa. It’s difficult to make a film that is funny for everybody. There is a massy kind of humour as opposed to the niche humour. People are scared to experiment with it. For example, despite being funny, Go Goa Gone did really well only in metros, but not in the interiors. There was a feeling that this might be the case because the humour was slightly more English, and the audience there would be alien to this kind of a zombie film. But over the years, when the movie was shown on satellite TV, it was accepted by everybody. Now, when we talk about the sequel, there is pan-India anticipation about it, not just from the metros. Comedy is still being explored in India. I think there is an attempt in making such films because they are doing well. But, then again not all comedies are great. Some work, some don’t. Sometimes on the set when we are doing a scene, it seems very funny but when it is edited and put it out there, it is not so funny. Comedy is actually a serious and tricky business.

Madhureeta Mukherjee (BOMBAY TIMES; March 14, 2018)

He raged on to the silver screen 27 years ago, on a roaring hot bike in the action drama, Phool Aur Kaante. Ever since, his career has not always been a bed of roses, but neither have the thorns left him bruised. Like he says, “Even in my low phase, I have always had one hit in a year”. Ajay Devgn has deftly balanced the art and the mart. For every Zakhm, there has been a Golmaal. For every 100-crore-hit, there’s been a critically acclaimed drama to root for. A director’s delight — he could tear the screen with rage or turn into silent dynamite. Off-screen, he’s a man of his own mind. Rare and solid. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, he fires bullets — direct and dauntless. A few days before the release of his upcoming film Raid directed by Raj Kumar Gupta, he settles into a comfortable chat (which is a rarity) with us and talks about his lucky streak, how he’s averted a mid-life crisis and the fact that the industry today has better business sense, but lacks the emotional quotient. Read on…

You are playing a tough-as-nails IT officer in Raid, who is investigating one of the most high-profile and controversial cases that we have seen. While essaying heroic characters in our films, the natural tendency is to go OTT in order to make the character seem more superhuman. Here, you seem to have played it out subtly. It is a challenge, isn’t it?
The film happened because we met this IT officer and realised that there was a great story to be told. We were toying with the idea of making it for four years. Finally, the writer Ritesh Shah narrated the story to me and I loved it. Then, we got Raj Kumar Gupta (of No One Killed Jessica fame) on board, as he understood the space that this movie is set in. I have never worked with him before, but he is this quiet and honest guy, who talks about nothing other than the film he is working on. Also, I like Ritesh because he writes dialogues that are not filmi or flowery, but hard-hitting. They don’t sound like… yeh kya line likhi hai, and yet, leave an impact. I think that whenever you have a great line, you should deliver it with nonchalance. By that, I mean that a lot of actors believe that if they have a good dialogue, they should stretch it to make it more dramatic. I feel that when you deliver such lines subtly, they work out better. In Raid, Amay Patnaik is real; he doesn’t become aggressive or resort to violence. He is not a cop, he is an IT officer who is honest and retaliates silently.

Well, OTT also works well for the audience, like in a film like Singham, where you play a hotheaded cop…
Yes, OTT works very often in our films, but it doesn’t work for every character. It can get irritating, too, so you need to strike a balance. In case of roles that demand a subtle performance, you have to express a lot through your eyes and body language. Sometimes, when people do it, there are chances that it could look like they are sleepwalking. There is a very thin line. Being cool and calm does not mean that you are performing well either.

You have always said that you don’t spend too much time getting into the skin of the character. You simply understand your character and let the cameras start rolling. Have you ever made an exception to that process for any of your roles?
I still can’t do all that prep work. I am just spontaneous, so I either feel the character or I don’t. I don’t know of any other process, or let’s say that I can’t explain it. I can understand it for myself. I start thinking and feeling like the character. My body language and thought process change and I start thinking what the character would do or wouldn’t do. Yes, I do put a lot of thought in to how I would play a character differently. For instance, after Ram Gopal Varma’s Company (2002) got a lot of appreciation, I had to think about how I would play an underworld don again in Milan Luthria’s Once Upon A Time In Mumbaai (2010). The cop in Prakash Jha’s Gangaajal (2003) is dramatically different from the cop in Rohit Shetty’s Singham (2011), though both the characters have similar beliefs.

When you are doing a film like Golmaal vis-à-vis a film like Raid, as an actor,is the ultimate feeling of creative satisfaction similar?
There is a lot of satisfaction in doing both kinds of films. Doing a comedy is tough business; the energy and timing has to be perfectly tuned. People think that it is easy to be stupid on screen, but it is not. I realised that while working on Golmaal Again (2017). On the first day of the shoot we performed a few scenes and we realised that there was something missing. We had shot the last Golmaal movie seven years ago. Since then, we had all grown up. Then Rohit (Shetty, director) played a few scenes from Golmaal 3, and we saw how stupid we were in that film. The energy was on a different level. And while shooting Golmaal Again, we were trying to be stupid, but there was a little maturity in it. So, we had to take the stupidity a notch higher and when that worked, it was as satisfying as anything else.

What was the turning point for you? Was it Mahesh Bhatt’s Zakhm (1998), a film where you received immense appreciation? For the longest time, you were asked why you didn’t do more films like that…
I don’t think that there was any turning point in my career, it was all a process. I am glad people have started doing such films now; in the 90s no one attempted these films. What we call niche films today, I was doing those films in the 90s when no other mainstream actor was doing them. I did films like Raincoat, Dil Kya Kare, Thakshak and Zakhm. Thank God, I did those films because you learn a lot from directors like Bhatt saab and Govind Nihalani, as their thought process is very deep and different. The learnings from those films can be applied in commercial cinema too, and it can work differently. I have done all kinds of cinema, because I never bothered about things like how it would affect my image as an actor. Yes, I had an action hero tag, which I think changed with films like Ishq, Pyaar Toh Hona Hi Tha and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, which were in a different zone. It was never a conscious choice; it all just fell into place. I don’t plan most things in life; I simply follow my heart and instinct.

Did you ever go through a mid-life crisis in your career wherein you were confused about the direction in which it was heading?
Given the fact that I didn’t ever plan my career, and I didn’t take things too seriously, I think I have been very lucky. I’ve been around for 27 years and there has never been a situation in my life where I have had one or two bad years. If I have had three releases in a year, if two have not worked, one has always worked out. Even in my low phase, I had one hit a year. I have never gone through a phase jahan mujhe kaam ki kami rahi. Everyone gets films, but it gets difficult for actors to get the kind of films that they want.

Looking back, do any of your films from the past make you cringe now?
Yes, I have done so many films just for the sake of relationships with people in the industry. Not just me, I think many other actors from my generation have done that. We knew that the film was not going to work (I won’t name them), but we still went ahead and did it for emotional reasons. I don’t regret doing it. Back then, we didn’t bother, but today, we obviously won’t do the same.

In that sense, would you say that today the industry has become far more professional and practical? Is there a certain emotional quotient missing?
That emotional quotient, which was there in the film industry in the past, has gone. Everything has changed and business has taken over. In some ways, it is good for the industry, but we also miss the old times and sometimes we wish things would go back to the way they were. Back then, we could talk and say whatever we wanted, and we would walk into each other’s sets whenever we wanted. We were like a close-knit group, which is not the case anymore.

You have always been a fairly elusive star. You are on social media, but you aren’t too vocal. Do you think that today, actors are fearful of speaking their mind, knowing that they could be lambasted for their views?
Yes, there is a fear of speaking your mind as people start targeting you. You might say something, and they might misconstrue it or turn it into something else. I think people know what you mean, and yet they want to play mischief. Hence, we have to be cautious about what we say. Sometimes, it is not about what you say but how you say it. At times, I use social media to say something important, or voice my opinion on a topic that I feel strongly about. People use social media to promote themselves, not to always make a point.

Talking about promoting yourself, one has never seen you do that aggressively. You haven’t really used the PR machinery to your advantage…
Why should I do it? I have always been this way and I really don’t want to change. I think that my work speaks for itself. If I have to start shouting out loud about myself, I might as well not work and do just that. If there are people who don’t understand this, I don’t care a damn about making them understand (laughs!).

Do you still feel the jitters before the release of a film?
I still get nervous before every role. Even today, before doing a shot I wonder if I will be able to pull it off. I think it is a good thing to feel this way, because if I start thinking… arre yeh toh ho jaayega, then it means that I have started taking things for granted.

The industry is becoming increasingly competitive. Do you ever feel insecure, or do you harbour any fears?
Not anymore. The only thing I want to do is that I want to work till I die. What can I feel insecure about after 27 years? You also have to realise that you won’t be around forever. We are all getting older; I will turn 49 this year. So, I know that I have to evolve and change and take on a different role altogether. In that sense, I am very balanced and realistic.

Renuka Vyavahare (BOMBAY TIMES; April 10, 2017)

As Vishesh Films completes three decades on April 2, its lodestar, Mahesh Bhatt, talks about its latest offering and six intensely personal dramas that are cherished memories today
Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; April 1, 2017)


BEGUM JAAN (2017)

This Partition drama is a new spring for Vishesh Films. After a few flops, a gloom had descended over the establishment which had the infrastructure and access to money, but the core from where my films had come had withered. That’s when I accidentally stumbled on this Bengali film, Rajkahini, whose director, Srijit Mukherji, was suggested to me by my writer Suhrita Sengupta.

I’d liked his work and when invited to see the film at a preview theatre, I dragged my reluctant brother, Mukesh Bhatt, along. I was devastated by it. The film shook me, my body and soul. I came out of the screening, hugged Srijit tightly and said, “As long as there are storytellers and filmmakers like you, the moral compass of the nation is intact.” In that embrace was born the narrative of Begum Jaan.

When Mukesh saw how overwhelmed I was by the film, he decided to remake it in Hindi. With all his caution and worldly wiseness, Mukesh Bhatt has taken many risks based on my gut instincts. He’s as much a gambler as me, without whom we would not have come this far.


ZAKHM (1998)

So many painful memories because this film was semiautobiographical, based on my proud origin of having a Hindu father, a Muslim mother and a Christian schooling. It was my last directorial and because it dealt with communal politics and the carnage post ’92-’93, my mother was concerned believing that by taking up for secular values, I’d upset the ultra right-wing forces. She died after the first schedule and I had to unmask her Muslim identity which she had hidden behind a sari, tika and mangalsutra when she was alive and had to tell the family that her last wish was to be buried.

She went into the grave as Shirin Mohammad Ali as she didn’t have her husband’s name attached to her. It was graceful of the man in charge of the burial ground in Byculla to let me perform the last rites after learning that I was a Hindu by the name of Mahesh Bhatt. When I stepped into the grave and turned her face towards Kaba, it was the most intimate time I spent with my mother who was no more. That became the defining image planted in the climax which touched the nation’s consciousness.


SADAK (1991)

I remember an enchanting night in Mysore’s Brindavan Gardens where we were shooting Nadeem-Shravan’s romantic track, “Tumhe Apna Banaane Ki Kasam” with a young Pooja Bhatt and the new star Sanjay Dutt. In between shots, I would be listening to a commentary on the Gulf War. Sanjay wondered why I was interested in something happening in Iraq. We had to finish the shoot before dawn becauses it was an expensive location but even though we stretched ourselves, one shot remained. I resigned myself to completing it elsewhere but Sanjay protested, saying, “We have to shoot it here.”

I told him it was impossible to carry the equipment to a distant location before daybreak. “I’ll do it,” he said, and lugging one of the huge archlights, turned to the lightboys and commanded, “Follow me.” They did and we got the shot before the sun came up.


DADDY (1989)

Not for nothing was I labelled the “autobiographical” filmmaker. I went through the attics of my life and shamelessly pulled out stuff others shudder to reveal to the world, including my battle with the bottle, to launch my 16-year-old daughter Pooja Bhatt as an actress in Daddy. It’s a film about an alcoholic struggling to reform for his daughter, part fiction-part real.

My wife Soni Razdan is away in Hong Kong with our newborn child and Pooja was staying with me in Juhu during the shoot. Every night she would rehearse her lines for the next day, perform them for me, then go to bed. One night, after she and the rest of the world had fallen asleep, I had a sudden craving to go to a bar and have a drink.

‘Who would know’, I asked myself. My wife was away and my daughter, asleep. A voice replied from deep within, “You can con the world, you can con your child, but how can you con yourself Mahesh Bhatt? You would know.”

I didn’t have that drink and it was a turning point for me in my struggle with alcoholism. The next morning, I rewrote the climax with Anupam Kher who played the alcoholic, being offered a drink by the baddie before going on stage and tossing the whiskey and the temptation away. What happened in life was transported to the movies. Celluoid has been my intimate diary and I’ve let the world into that space because there’s nothing to hide.


NAAM (1986)

After the critically acclaimed Saaransh and Arth, this was my first money-spinner. It enjoyed a golden jubilee run and brought back Sanjay Dutt after a string of disasters. It also put the spotlight back on Salim Khan after a split with his scriptwriter partner Javed Akhtar.

I have to thank Kumar Gaurav for making Naam possible for us. When I narrated the idea to his producer-father, Rajendra Kumar admitted it was good but then apprehensively turned to his son and pointed out that Sanjay Dutt’s role in this two-hero film was more powerful. “Why not do a film with you at the heart of it?” he suggested.

Without blinking an eye Kumar Gaurav replied, “If we’re going to make this movie, it has to be on this story.” Seeing his conviction his father agreed but ironically, Rajendra Kumar’s fears are confirmed because despite Kumar Gaurav’s brilliant performance, Naam is Sanjay’s show.


ARTH (1982)

The film was done and was the talk of the town. But there were no takers. The end —Shabana Azmi’s character Pooja choosing not to return to her philandering husband or jump into the arms of her lover who promises her the moon but opting to live alone as a single mother to her maid’s daughter—was too bold and unconventional for our Hindi film industry.

There was another problem. My narrative stood on the shoulders of two brilliant actresses, Shabana and Smita Patil, but the latter had moved out of the art house circuit into Bollywood’s A-list. She was convinced I’d been grossly unfair to her character, Kavita, pruning some of her best scenes to make her look like a lesser actress to build up Shabana. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us which I didn’t know how to bridge.

One day, I ran into her at Parkview Hotel. I’d gone to drop off playwright Vijay Tendulkar whom she’d come to meet. The staircase was too narrow to avoid a collision. She tried to walk away but I wouldn’t let her. “Smita, you can’t do this to me. You can accuse me of being a less talented director who could not do justice to your part, but to accuse me of being partial is unfair and you know it,” I entreated, looking into her eyes.

“How can you do this to me? Now I can’t even be angry with you. You’ve taken away all my anger,” she wailed. She went on to watch the film and liked it. And our almost-sour relationship had a happy ending.

SAARANSH (1984)

On the first day of the new year, when my colleagues, after a night of indulgence were still recovering from the hangover, I was at Mehboob Studio with my actors and technicians, and the entire Barjatya family, gearing up to take the first shot of my new film. I shouted, “Action” and in the foreground a telephone began to ring. A grainy image of Anupam Kher as BV Pradhan, a retired school teacher of 70, walked into the frame to pick up the receiver. A disembodied voice — mine — informed him that his only son was dead after being mugged while returning from an Independence Day celebration in New York. The shot was okayed in one take but instead of the usual claps and smiles I could see that my producers were uncomfortable.

Rajkumar Barjatya, speaking for his family, asked me respectfully if it was the right shot for the mahurat given that we were announcing an end. I pointed out that the essence of Saaransh was coming to terms with the finality of death and debunking the popular notion of immortality. With my words their concerns melted away as the true meaning of Saaransh asserted itself with the first shot.

In a first from within the producer community, Pooja Bhatt takes on the Diwali release deal between the state and Film Producers' Guild to ensure 'smooth' release of Karan Johar's 'Ae Dil Hai Mushkil'
Pooja Bhatt (MID-DAY; October 28, 2016)

I write this piece knowing that my voice is like a candle in the wind, and will have no impact on those already converted to the thought that you speak of peace in these times, you are automatically a traitor. Yet, my conscience does not permit me to stay silent when I see some of my brethren succumb to powers that be, without even an attempt of a fight.

Why such a meek, soft stand? I asked myself. But on gathering facts, I realised that no one can fight for someone who does not want to fight for themselves. How do you coax someone out of an abusive relationship if they don't want to get out of it?

It was the year 1999 when my film Zakhm was denied a censor certificate by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), headed by our very own Asha Parekh. I remember my father, Mahesh Bhatt, taking a clear stand, when the CBFC wanted to tamper with the film: We would release the film the way it was, or set fire to the negative!

My uncle Mukesh Bhatt (now president, Film & Television Producers’ Guild of India) backed that decision. Conviction does not need PR. The result of that conviction was not only a clean release, but a national award for Best Film on National Integration. All this was possible because Zakhm was produced independently, and not underwritten by corporate funding.

Corporate funding gives you the illusion of grandeur. But eventually, it makes you weak and cautious. It makes you too damn gentile. It was painful to watch Karan Johar have to proclaim his patriotism over and over. It was even more devastating to hear him say he will never work with artistes from the “neighbouring country” again. I’m not certain if those were his lines. Or if he was merely mouthing the agenda of the mighty FOX.

Either way, what is saddening is that through this entire debate, the words ‘patriotism’ and ‘profit’ have not only been used and misused, but have drowned out the word ‘art’.

Art has no boundaries. Artistes are beyond their nationalities. That is my belief. You may disagree. That is your right. As is mine, to agree to disagree. Why can't we see the obvious? Trade continues without restrictions between India and Pakistan. Yet there is a clampdown on all things Bollywood: a curious case of soft power being used instead as soft targets. I guess Karan Johar and Fawad Khan are more marketable targets than farmers who grow cotton and paan leaves.

The theatre owners and exhibitors are terrified that their properties will be vandalised. They will not trust the state to act on its promise of providing adequate security and ensuring a film’s peaceful release. Corporates will continue with their ongoing agenda—of profit by any, and all means.

In the meanwhile, wild figures like ‘Rs 5 crore’ are thrown around as ‘sums to be donated’ by filmmakers, when at the meeting held between the chief minister, the Film Producers’ Guild, and the aggrieved filmmakers, no figure was arrived at. I repeat, no promises were made. The Producers’ Guild cannot and does not act on behalf of every producer in the film industry. Hence their supposed acceptance of “never working with Pakistani artistes” has no standing, until it is approved by each and every association — of which there are many.

I have a case pending in the High Court where I have questioned the legitimacy and authority of these very bodies that fail to protect independent producers like myself. When it comes to fighting copyright violation (in my case, with the title and film, Thank You), there is no assistance in sight.

It’s the same situation when one is hauled to court and has to fight a lonely battle for over a decade on an obscenity charge over a film poster (for Rog), even though the said poster has a ‘no-objection certificate’ from the concerned producers’ association, and the Censor Board.

So, I’m sorry, is this Bollywood? If it is, then it’s not an industry I wish to inherit. Is this Mumbai? It definitely is. And this is certainly not the Bombay I was born to.

Pooja Bhatt is a Bollywood actor turned filmmaker.

Mahesh Bhatt reveals why he hasn’t worked with his youngest daughter; says a collaboration is possible only if he thinks he can contribute to her brand value
Letty Mariam Abraham (MID-DAY; August 10, 2016)

He is a man of many words and hardly pulls his punches. His frank, candid opinions can easily endear one to him. That’s Mahesh Bhatt for you. In a freewheeling chat with hitlist, the filmmaker talks about his upcoming TV show, Naamkarann, how Barkha Bisht reminds him of late actress Smita Patil and why he doesn’t expect daughters, Pooja and Alia, to follow moral codes. Excerpts:

Is your new show a remake of your 1998 directorial venture, Zakhm, which was inspired by your life?
Zakhm was fiercely autobiographical, based on my mother and my troubled life. But Naamkarann is not a rehash. It takes off where Zakhm ends. It’s drawn from my life, but isn’t entirely my story. It isn’t a sequel either. It’s centered on a 10-year-old girl.

Why did you decide to go back to TV instead of making a sequel?
Television today is the medium of mass entertainment. Filmmakers of great repute are on TV or making mini series, even in the West. There are so many characters in a story; you can’t do justice to all of them in just 150 minutes.

Television is run on the TRP game. Have you made the show keeping that in mind?
We have been given creative freedom by the channel. They gave us inputs and an understanding of what people want.

Are you convinced with the choice of actors?
Barkha [Bisht] is a fascinating actress. She reminds me of Smita Patil.

You could have easily got a bigger name for the show.
I am not a slave to names. I am known to work with new people.

Thriller and spooky shows are ruling the small screen. Do we have takers for a heartwarming story like this?
Why not, if they could embrace Janam in 1984, Buniyaad in 1986 and Daddy in 1989? If there’s space for a Naagin or an Udaan, there is space for Naamkarann too.

What stereotypes does this show intend to break?
The stereotype that you need a male figure to establish your identity. It also asks a fundamental question: why elders preach what they don’t practice. I have no business to ask Pooja or Alia to follow a morality code, which I myself never followed.

Has Alia lent her voice to the show track?
No, Monali Thakur has sung the song composed by Anu Malik and written by Kausar Munir.

When will we see Alia working in your films?
Only when I contribute to her brand. She will kick me out if I do not contribute to her growing stature. But, for emotional reasons, I don’t work with stars; Alia is one. Nor do I use my children as my meal ticket. I am active, more relevant than them. Only when our mutual needs coincide, we might work.

Hasn’t she expressed interest to work with you?
After Hamari Adhuri Kahani, she told me, ‘Papa you must write a film like that for me’ and I wondered what had happened to her. I don’t think she needs to hold her father’s hand. Whenever she is at the crossroads, she texts me and we talk.

Alia is more successful than Pooja...
That’s because she is younger, more dedicated. But, Pooja has been a star; she chose to move away. She hasn’t been able to establish herself as a filmmaker, but she is still in the driving seat. To me, she is far more successful because she has lived life on her own terms and has never leaned towards her father for a single penny. My daughters [Alia, Pooja and Shaheen] are standing on their feet.

Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; July 14, 2015)

Priya Gupta (BOMBAY TIMES; June 9, 2015)

Roshmila Bhattacharya (MUMBAI MIRROR; June 2, 2015)