FACTORY TALK
Ram Gopal Varma opens up about being a certain kind of director, about why Contract didn’t work, and about why the upcoming Phoonk is more than just a horror film.
AUG 15, 2008 – ABOUT FIVE MINUTES AFTER SITTING DOWN across Ram Gopal Varma, I’m beginning to realise he’s hijacked the interview. There’s a sheet of questions in my hand – a list that I frequently look at, in the desperate hope of launching a counterattack to this blatant act of terrorism. But he keeps talking, and I keep listening. (Let’s face it: would you look Varma in the eye and ask, “Excuse me, but there are some things that I need to ask. Would you mind letting go while I try to do that?”) And as he talks, it’s almost as if he’s amassed a clutch of interesting things to talk about, and he’s got to check items off that list before the close of day – a theory that is confirmed later, when I see he’s gone over those same anecdotes during most other interviews he’s given that afternoon. It’s either that – or the fact that every single interviewer has put to him questions of unvarying insipidity, and, with these choice quotes, Varma is doing the best he can to keep himself entertained.
Even so, it’s an entertaining experience. The arrogance that you detect in Varma the filmmaker isn’t, as you’d expect, there in Varma the person. At least that afternoon in Chennai, he’s a delightful conversationalist, with a healthy amount of perspective on his work and a hearty sense of humour. I’m barely a couple of words into my first question, when he cuts me off and observes that my review of his Sarkar Raj was interesting, but I “completely missed the point.” Defensive hackles rising, I begin to argue that a review is just a point of view and so forth, but he cuts me off because he gets it. What interests him, he smiles, is to note people’s reactions to his films. But, I venture, he doesn’t seem to be the sort of person who cares about what others think. He agrees, and clarifies that even if he doesn’t bother, it’s interesting to “study” the way people react – as if filmmaking, to him, is nothing but an expensive laboratory with the nation’s audiences scraped into a petri dish. And I can’t help but wonder…
Is that why you make films – because it “interests” you to see how others will react?
My belief is that any filmmaker makes films for two reasons. One, he makes the film for himself – that is, he’d like to see a film like this. Second, he would like to imitate a successful film. “If Jaane Tu… worked, let me make a film like Jaane Tu…” So you’re trying to copy, but your ego doesn’t permit you to say you’re copying that film, so you would say, “The audiences like this kind of film.” Otherwise, your only choice is… [the first one]. Because I can make a film for me. I can’t make a film for you. Because I don’t know you, I don’t know your sensibilities. And if I cannot know that about one person, how can I group a whole mass and label them an “audience” just for my convenience?
So you’re basically talking about someone who makes a movie as a personal statement versus someone who makes a movie as a business venture.
Yeah, I would say that. But it’s a business venture not only in terms of making money, but also in terms of fame. Someone would want to make a movie to be paid more than, say, David Dhawan or Anees Bazmee – because if Anees Bazmee is the benchmark for commercial success today, he may want to be bigger than that. Still, I don’t think people really come into the industry to make money. Today, actors come to Mumbai to become Shah Rukh Khan. They don’t come there to become Naseeruddin Shah. And that’s because of the glamour, the fame quotient – to be looked up to, to be adored. That’s not really the passion for acting, and neither is it the greed for money. It’s the same thing with filmmakers. They want to be called the most famous or the most successful director. That becomes more important than why you want to make the film.
But then how do you explain the careers of people like Vidhu Vinod Chopra, or even yourself? You have your fame, your money – so why do you keep making movies?
I can’t speak for Vinod Chopra, but I make films because of a desire to make films. Ultimately, the filmmaker is a storyteller. I can have a conversation with you or I can write an article or I can make a film. The difference is, with cinema, you can use the various aspects of the medium and enhance the effect. More than telling you about a scene from Phoonk, for example, which is a horror film, I can use the various tools at my disposal and enhance the effect of what I want to impress you with. My passion is to make you feel that – rather than what you think of it, or how much money you will give it for gratifying you. I don’t think of those two aspects.
But you are working in a very expensive medium.
I’m not denying that. I’m talking about my motivation. I’m not saying that it’s right. But having said that, how can I guarantee that you would like it? Suppose I want to scare you, what could happen? (a) It scares you. (b) It doesn’t. So why would I deliberately do something thinking that you will like it? What I tried to do, you may not like – but that is an aftereffect. It’s not the primary reason. It’s not that I don’t care whether you like it or not. I’m not saying that. There’s no way of knowing whether you’ll like it or not. That’s what I’m saying.
Even then, when a filmmaker has been on the scene for as long as you have, aren’t there certain patterns that he learns to discern – whether this will work, or this won’t, and so on? Doesn’t he begin to “know” the audience after a while?
In fact, I think the reverse is true. The more you are around, the more disconnected you become – because you get corrupted with the industry’s thinking. They tend to think of the audience in terms of groups – “youth” films, “family” films… Also, when you are looking at cinema, in a theatre, with people around you, it’s a very different way of looking at it. At that time, your exposure level, your knowledge is very different. But when you become a director, you tend to lose that way of looking at films. Today, I can’t watch a film anymore, because I don’t watch a film to be entertained. I see a film to judge it. I am constantly looking at camera angles, sound, this, that – which is not the way audiences look at the film. So the film that everybody loves, say something like Taare Zameen Par – this is just an example – the point is, if in the first five minutes I disagree with the way the scenes are being captured, I will miss out on the content of the film, which might be the main reason the film clicks. So I think that the more you understand cinema, the more you become disassociated from the audience.
In that case, how do you explain the careers of people like Prakash Mehra or Manmohan Desai – apart from the fact that they worked in an era where more people went to the theatres because there were no TVs and VCRs?
See, their intention of making a film was different. Now, where did the word “formula film” come from? Formula films are like thali meals, you know? You get your curry, your dal, your rice, your chapatis – you have a good time, but also, your expectation isn’t going to be very high. You know exactly what you’re going to get there. So they kept on serving good helpings of that, with varying degrees and ranges, but, more or less, the soul was the same. And that’s why the word “formula” came about – because it can’t fail. Like the Coke formula, which is sent to various outlets – it will still be the same. But when you try to make a film that breaks convention – when I made my first film, the prevailing trend at the time were Balakrishna’s and Chiranjeevi’s films, so Shiva was a complete change – you have no way of knowing if it will work.
I didn’t know that then – and even now, I don’t have any idea why it worked. But it was liked. Whether it was liked for the reasons I made the film, or whether they saw something else in it – even that, I do not know. Even with a movie like Satya, I’m not sure that its commercial success has anything to do with what the critics liked it for. There were people who said they loved it because it was the first time they heard the word “chutiya” in the theatre. Reactions are as wide-ranging as that. Now, the critics gave four stars to Satya and they gave four stars to Maqbool, but Maqbool didn’t work anywhere as well as Satya. That’s what I’m saying. Each person likes or dislikes a film for unique reasons – and you can’t generalise them.
Do you think that the audience has become more fragmented today and it was more homogenous earlier?
I would think they were always fragmented. There are more choices today, and because of the Information Age, people are more aware of what is available, plus the freedom of communication is so strong that… When Doordarshan was the only option, I used to watch everything. I used to watch the Nirma ad. I used to watch the Surf ad. But the moment I’m given 50 channels and a remote control, I’m not going to watch TV with the same mindset anymore. The same thing applies to films too. I think very fast, and I can follow a very fast-paced film. But someone else may process things slowly and may want the film to linger on its scenes. Now who do you take as a benchmark for the guy sitting in the theatre? That’s why I feel when you make a film the way you want, there will hopefully be enough people out there wanting to watch it.
To give an example, Dhoom 2 is the biggest hit of last year. It collected some twenty crores in the Mumbai circuit alone. At an average of a hundred rupees a ticket, twenty lakh people saw the film. Now, this is the kind of film that has a repeat audience, so if you halve that figure, ten lakh people saw Dhoom 2. If ten lakh people out of a population of six crores can make the year’s biggest hit, what are the other five crore and ninety lakh people doing? Do they watch films or not? Another interesting question is: are the same people watching Welcome and Taare Zameen Par? There’s no way of knowing, which is why predictions are so often wrong. So the point is, you want to make a film and, secondly, you want people to like it. But which people? I can’t have a conversation like this with, say, my driver. And my driver is also a part of the audience, just like you and me. So do I take you as my mean audience, or do I take my driver?
And that’s why you say you make films for yourself…
The fact is that I understood that it’s impossible to group the audience into one whole. And because of this, you either decide that you want to copy a successful film, like Jaane Tu… When I made my first film, if I’d made something like a Balakrishna film, it might have also become a superhit, perhaps a bigger hit than Shiva. How should I know? Or, you choose the second option and you make films for yourself. And I decided that I want to make the films that I want to see. That’s just my decision. I’m not saying it’s right or wrong. Now, coming to what you were saying, yes, film is an expensive medium. Apart from the costs, various actors and technicians are putting their trust – along with their time and effort – in your vision. And they all have some expectations. You have a responsibility towards them, not to let them down. But take the time I made Daud. It had everything going for it – the success of Rangeela, Urmila’s image, Sanjay Dutt after Khalnayak, AR Rahman after Rangeela. Nothing should have gone wrong, and yet it went wrong. And when I started Satya, people said nobody wanted to see bearded, sweaty faces. But that film worked.
So, in retrospect, my decisions may have been wrong, but at the time I took these decisions, they were right. Whether it was Rangeela or Satya or Daud, when I made the decision to make these films, I was serious. It is possible, en route, that I would have missed the target. Because at a human level, I could have been sidetracked, or I could have lost sight of my final purpose. But again, what is the benchmark for a flop or a hit? For example, Sarkar Raj cost 20 crores, and it was sold to one wholesale distributor at 41. He then sells it to another bunch, making a 15-20% profit. Those guys will make another 15-20% by selling it to sub-distributors and fixed hires. So the street value of Sarkar Raj, by the time it hits theatres, would be in the range of 65 crores. So even if it collects 60, it will be called a flop. Now, I made it for 20, and so even if it collects 25, it’s a hit. And the bottom line, for me as a director, is how many people saw the film.
Let’s assume 60 lakh people saw it. Does it mean anything, maybe that 59 lakh people hated it? I don’t know that. So the collections do not necessarily mean that people liked the film. So if film is an idea, film business is about taking that idea to the maximum number of people as effectively and as widely as possible. Along the way, different people have different agenda and motivations, all for their own purposes, and the only true, pure result is on a one-to-one basis. Did you like the film or not? That’s the only concern of the consumer. The producer has invested money. The distributor has invested money. With Sarkar Raj, the wholesale distributor made a lot of money. So in that sense, it’s a superhit. But on the street, if a distributor paid an MG amount of five lakhs, and he only made four lakhs, it’s a flop for him. That’s an informed decision he’s taken, based on his expectations from the local territory or the promos or X or Y factors. Now, that, as a director, I will never be able to control.
But why do you find so many contrasting figures? In the US, for instance, box office reporting is such a streamlined system.
I don’t really deal with the business end. But I think, earlier, there was a lot of cash business, and slowly, with the corporates, all that is getting cleaned up. The multiplexes are very streamlined, while the single screens and the small-town theatres are not. And unless there’s accountability from top to bottom, it’s difficult. But I think we’re getting there.
You just said that you define the success of a film by whether it achieved the aims that you wanted it to achieve. Let’s take Contract. What made you say you wanted to see this vigilante movie? What made you persist with it and put it out in a market that’s no longer responsive to such films?
I’ve answered this question already. You either make what you want to make, or you make whatever kind of movie is working.
But I’m talking about gangster films, in general, not doing well of late…
I don’t agree with that. I’ll agree with you if you say you don’t like Contract as a film. But I don’t believe the genre has anything to do with it. No genre will ever fail. It’s the film that fails. It’s a question of how interesting you make it and how you pitch it. Maybe they didn’t like what they saw in the promos, or they didn’t like the actors or what they heard about it. There could be so many reasons for people not going to a film. It’s not a question of genre. A horror film and a romantic comedy and a family film can work on the same day.
With Phoonk, you’re coming out with your first horror film after Bhoot. Has it shaped up according to your expectations, according to the way you saw it in your head?
It’s a big fallacy that a director can know if the film has come up to his expectations. From the time it was started, whatever concept of the film was there inside your head, it’s rarely there by the time you’ve finished. By the time you’ve broken it down into scenes and done location shooting and editing and so on, you have no idea – because you’re looking more into the details of the technical aspects. You may have begun the film to make people laugh or cry or scared or whatever, but by the time you finish, you won’t be able to feel it. At best, you can try to analyse the reaction of someone who’s seeing it for the first time, and see if you’ve reached your goal. But you, on a personal level, cannot do this. Because in each decision you’ve taken, there’s so much thinking you’ve done about the shot or the performance or the line, you take it for granted that all the information you’re using is in the audience’s head. But it might not be there, and they will look at it in a completely different way. So regarding whether the film has come up to my satisfaction, no film can ever do that.
The second point is what I think of it. Bhoot had the scare element of making you jump in your seat, and then you laughed because you were caught unawares. And then you waited for the next scare to come. But with Phoonk, the subject matter is very serious. What I mean by “serious” is that it could make you question your faith. It ‘s a debate between a believer and a non-believer and a person who’s on the wall – but it’s not a drawing-room discussion. At the centre is a girl with something happening to her. (Picks up pen) Let’s say this pen rises in the air like this. You can say it’s a miracle, or you can call it a trick, or you could say you’re just imagining it. But you have to take a decision soon, or your loved one will die. Now you’re desperate to find a solution and you may find yourself asking some guy who’s supposed to know about all this – as you’re a non-believer. But if this guy’s explanation about this trick is not satisfactory, and he’s not giving you a solution, how do you decide? Phoonk is like that. The interesting part for me is that it’s beyond a horror film, beyond the “scary” genre. It is very scary, because of the backdrop itself, but the more interesting part – which I think is novel in such a film – is that I’m hoping it will create a debate among both believers and non-believers.
Is this an extension of your own feelings about such things – because you’ve often said you’re a non-believer?
Yes. I think the protagonist is, more or less, playing me. But then, every protagonist has some bits of me. “Mujhe jo sahi lagta hai, main wohi karta hoon” from Sarkar is me. “Main jagah se nahin, dimaag se kaam karta hoon” from Contract is also me. I said that when I lost my office. And most importantly, “Faisle nahin, nateeje galat hote hain” – that’s me too.
You come across as more interested in the darker side of things, and when I think of you doing a romance, I think of something like Naach. The love story of that scarily independent woman – that’s how I’d think Ram Gopal Varma’s idea of a romance would be. What made you do frothy films like Rangeela and Mast?
Not really. I’ve done light films in Telugu. There’s no doubt I have an affinity for dark films, because that’s the kind of cinema I enjoy – but I’m basically, by nature, a very funny person. I’ve done films in almost every genre. My first film was about student politics. Raat is a horror film. Kshanam Kshanam is a caper. Kaun is a psychological thriller. But because of the hard-hitting nature of the underworld films and the horror films, because of the intensity, I think they tend to be remembered more easily. Anyway, what happened with Rangeela is that I had a friend called Ramesh in college. He was actually a street goonda, not a student. Those days it was like Shiva – a lot of hobnobbing between students and goondas. He was in love with this girl, but he’d never go up to her. We used to encourage him to go and speak to her. He always used to wear these dirty chappals, and one day, he wore brand new Nike shoes. We all laughed and he was hurt. Then this girl started seeing this guy – very good-looking, very rich, the only guy who had a car in those days – so we chamchas of Ramesh would goad him to go and beat that guy up. And in a choked voice, he turned to me and said, “She deserves someone better than me.”
That was the birth of Rangeela. I wanted to capture his emotion, and the Nike shoes he wore became the scene where Aamir Khan dresses up. So each film of mine has one basic thought behind it. Ramesh’s line, for me, was the soul of Rangeela. But from the time he said it to the making of the film, it must have been a ten-year journey. Now, when I saw how Mani Ratnam had shot the songs in Roja, I was blown away – and for the first time, I had a desire to do songs. Then, in The Sound of Music, I was very impressed with the character of the Countess, the way they resisted the temptation of making her the vamp – that became the basis for Jackie Shroff’s character. And I was watching Singin’ in the Rain, when I noticed my mother – who’s very conservative and who used to hate watching the Sarkailo khatiya kind of songs – didn’t mind this film, which actually had more exposure, girls baring their legs and all that. I realised that it was because these girls take pride in flaunting their body. It was there in their expressions – whereas in Sarkailo khatiya, which was done only for commercial reasons, you can see the hardness in Karisma’s face. So I told Urmila to take pride in being beautiful – and that’s what comes across in Rangeela. The bodies of all women are the same, but the way they feel about it is what the audience will take home.
So a lot of thoughts were grouped into Rangeela, but still the basic point is Ramesh’s line. The Countess, the woman’s pride in her beautiful body, the songs – all that became the atmosphere. And the humour element, which was so different in the film, I took from watching a lot of Hollywood musicals at the time. And the conversations that Munna and Pakia used to have were the kind of conversations that we used to have. And I’ve seen that, any time, if my first thought behind why I wanted to make the film happened to be right, the film happened to be right. And if that thought was wrong, the film went wrong. With Company, I was sitting with this guy called Manish Kadawala, who knew the Dawood Ibrahim gang. We got talking, and he told me, “So many people died in the fight between Dawood and Chhota Rajan. They are bent on killing each other. But even today, if Dawood Ibrahim calls, if Chhota Rajan is smoking a cigarette, he’ll keep it aside. He has that much respect for his mentor. They hate each other because they love each other.” And that line – “They hate each other because they love each other” –became the basis for Company. The rest of the film has nothing to do with Dawood Ibrahim or Chhota Rajan. It’s all my office politics, in the Factory. Because jealousy and one-upmanship and wanting to be better than the other – all this is part of any company. Now the point I’m trying to make is that with Contract, I was trying to make a Rambo kind of film in a realistic setting. That line, that idea, by itself, was wrong. And therefore the film went wrong.
With these ideas, is it possible to stay “pure” and true to yourself, or do other voices begin to influence you and corrupt your thinking?
It’s not possible, after a point, to retain your purity. And besides, you will yourself forget the feel that was there when you first had the idea. I had a story for a film. Anybody I told this story to was amazed, and the way I narrated the story, they didn’t even realise it was Sholay, till I told them. Then why did I make Sholay the way I made it? It’s because the day “Kitne aadmi the” became “Kitne,” and Holi became Diwali and so on, the people around were so mesmerised that they created an atmosphere – not intentionally – and I started thinking along the lines of audiovisual bites. It was no longer a film. I didn’t think whether the audience should hate Babban or if they should empathise with Thakur…
But isn’t that also how you make films, by concentrating on key moments, key aspects?
I’m not very sure that’s my intention. It’s not so much about the technical aspect of it. I’m a person who gets bored quite fast. I want to excite myself. So depending on what you’re seeing and why you’re seeing it, my mind will create a visual which will highlight it, at least for me. Some of them get it, while others think I’m needlessly exhibiting dramatic angles. I saw an incredible visual the other day, at Versova beach, at about 6:30 in the evening, just as it was turning dark. There were ten or twelve couples, holding each other and standing in almost the same pose. It looked very ghostly. I just couldn’t understand how it happened – till I figured out that night is falling and it’s time for them to part , so they are holding on to that one last moment, all of them. So the night falling is the trigger for them to feel that emotion at that time. It’s one of the most romantic images I’ve ever seen. Now the mistake I do is this. I’ve explained this visual to you for five minutes – but if I hadn’t, you’ll think it’s so artificial. That’s what even I thought at first. In fact, it was very bizarre for me. The moment I understood it, it completely changed my perspective. I do that a lot. I think the more you sit with the film in your head, the more you take it for granted that it’s come out exactly like that on celluloid. That’s where the disconnect possibly lies with me and the audience.
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Tambi Dude
August 14, 2008
I didn’t find the interview interesting.
For me the big difference between Bollywood and Hollywood movies is in
repeat value of a movie. Even the bollywood movie I like the first time, I don’t find them as good in repeat viewing. Satya and Company were two exceptions along with few others like Hey Ram. Sadly RGV has declined. in fact precipitously from those days.
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Anand
August 14, 2008
BR,So disappointing..he has just repeated what he has said in his blog.
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Sujith
August 14, 2008
“I’m barely a couple of words into my first question, when he cuts me off and observes that my review of his Sarkar Raj was interesting, but I “completely missed the point.”
Now that everyone is blogging and reading each other its time to start trolling each others boards
RGV seems to be repeating some of what he blogged about , but some fun stuff here , nice interview
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brangan
August 14, 2008
Tambi Dude: You have a point there about repeat value. When I watch Hindi/Tamil films in the theatre and see them again on TV a few months later, my reactions are usually quite different. Even accounting for the fact that the movie is now broken up by ads and stuff, there’s something else at work.
Anand / Sujith: You’re telling me… When I finished the interview, I was practically chortling with glee. The person who coordinated the interview said she’d never heard the story behind Rangeela earlier and that it was some sort of minor “get.” And then the next day, someone sends me his blog link where he’s elaborated about the whole damn thing. (Guess his memory was jogged.) Took me a day to un-depress myself 🙂 Which is why I let it run the way we talked and didn’t attempt to shape it in anyway (in the sense that, had the Rangeela story been fresh, I’d have used that as the hook). All these blogs… bah! 🙂
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Vijay
August 14, 2008
I found the interview interesting BR. I don’t read RGV’s blog though. But very crisp answers. He has clarity of thought if your interview is anything to go by.
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Supremus
August 14, 2008
The interview pretty much affirms my faith that Ram Gopal Verma has lost it. It is his habit to gloat about his movies till they release, and when they don’t work, immediately analyze them with keen eye as to why they didn’t work. Well, one would imagine that with these many failures, he would be analyzing before the movie came out and not after that.
His argument that he makes movies for himself are utter rubbish. Perhaps he should then join the adoor gopalkrishan club if he really were making movies for himself.
RGV used to be my fav director once upon a time, heck, I loved Sarkar Raj too, but his interviews are monotonous and boring.
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Shishir Yerramilli
August 14, 2008
Hello BR,
Great interview.Tambi Dude (or should I call him RK ;-)) has a point that much of the content he has recycled from his blog.However as BR mentioned earlier that RGV hijacked the interview!It is one of BR’s first interviews with a director(correct me if Im wrong).He’ll be shrewder next time;-)
I liked the question BR asked about RGV being enchanted by certain aspects/moments and moods in other films(even ordinary films) and expanding on those to create a movie on their own right which he elaborated on his reviews of Sarkar Raj and Aaaaarrrrgh aka Aag.One worked and other didnt ,BRgaru shouldve pressed on that issue some more
I think RGV works best with his back against the wall.He delivers his best usually after serving up some real turkeys(Satya after Daud,Company after the godawful Jungle,Sarkar after Gaayab!!, now Sarkar 2 after Aaarrrrghh,Im sorry Aag). It seems to be the same principle that guided during his Telugu years when money was tight, he made his most edgiest best stuff then ,Shiva, Kshana Kshanam,Raathri , Gaayam.Best to do to RGV is to cut his funding 😉
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Anonymous
August 15, 2008
“Formula films are like thali meals, you know? You get your curry, your dal, your rice, your chapatis – you have a good time, but also, your expectation isn’t going to be very high. You know exactly what you’re going to get there.”
Oh no! Just a day before I checked out this ‘candid’ interview with RGV on PFC here: http://passionforcinema.com/the-rgv-pfc-face-off/
Just check out the second video! He used the exactly same thali reference.
I didn’t watch all the videos. I’m sure that you can find such similarities.
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Amrita
August 15, 2008
So he basically means to say that the symphony in his head doesnt match the music when it’s played in the real world. Anybody who’s ever done anything creative shares that feeling, which is why doing something creative is part talent, part craft.
I’m with Shishir – cut his funding, save RGV!
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s
August 15, 2008
Is it may be because the fundamental image of what you had of RGV(what i gathered from your reviews) was vastly different from what he seems to come across here in this interview. I found the conversation flow missing.
The whole image of what was portrayed of him seems to be wrong. As a maverick filmmaker who doesn’t care about the audience to a filmmaker, who has no other way than not to think about the audience reaction because he can’t foresee it!
And I can;t believe a cliched film like rangeela requires real life inspirations. But the bit about making Urmila take pride in herself was interesting.
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sakthin
August 15, 2008
I haven’t read his blog and I felt this as a nice interview, clear and candid. I am not a big fan of RGV but his idea about two kind of people who make movie , it’s 100% true. how can one genaralise millions of people interest?
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Shashi
August 15, 2008
As mentioned by some other guys earlier. Everything on this interview is either available on RGV’s blog and PFC’s interviews.
Reminded me of one of the respected tycoon who gave almost same speech everywhere.
May be you should change the format of interview for such guys (ones with blog.)
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MumbaiRamki
August 15, 2008
Well , if you spend more time with the script in head , you can make sure to a large extent that the film works !
RGV’s reply : Thanks for your BS 🙂
RGV’s interview is a plain bore, considering the fact that i read his blogs 🙂
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Shalini
August 15, 2008
Thanks for the interview, BR. Since I don’t read any other film blogs :-), it was fresh material for me. Wish you had asked him if his penchant for skanky, no-talent actresses was part of his “can only make movies for myself” philosophy.:-)
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brangan
August 15, 2008
Vijay / Shalini / sakthin / Anonymous: Thanks. I don’t read his blogs either, and when people say there’s a lot of repetition, it makes me go aaarghh — if only for the fact that I needn’t have spent all that time transcribing the whole f***ing tape. 🙂
Supremus: But hindsight is always 20/20. It isn’t eay to analyse a film *before* it comes out.
“His argument that he makes movies for himself are utter rubbish.” I don’t think so. All he’s saying is that he knows what HE wants and therefore he makes movies for himself because he has NO WAY of knowing what others want. This way, at least someone has a chance to be satisfied.
Shishir Yerramilli: Hello again 🙂 “Best to do to RGV is to cut his funding” had me in laughs for a good part of the day. Thanks.
Amrita: “doing something creative is part talent, part craft.” True. But that’s also more applicable to a one-man effort like writing or painting. When so many collaborators step in, it’s easy to lose the plot along the way. Even if you know what you want and are working at 100%, others could kill it for you.
s: “And I can’t believe a cliched film like rangeela requires real life inspirations.” Again, when he had the idea, it may not have been to make a cliched film. It may have become one along the way. (BTW, I’ve seen the film only once, when it was released, and except for Aamir, it didn’t do much for me.)
Shashi / MumbaiRamki: I guess I should begin too. I guess it’s time to add AB’s and RGV’s and Aamir’s blogs to my feedreader, so I can feel guilty about a few more posts that I’ll never get around to reading 🙂
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rbehemoth
August 16, 2008
Damn!! had a faint sense of having read the 2nd part of the interview somewhere… in fact almost word-by-word. then in the comments section realised where it came from… lol. that was funny. KLPD is what they call it (if you know what i mean) ;).
But, ya… he does come across as pretty intelligent in most of his interviews…
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Aspi
August 16, 2008
BR, I say in this in the nicest way possible that its for the best that RGV hijacked the interview. Because a fascinating portrait emerges that is not extracted via sheer prompting.
Its easy to diss a film based on a visceral reaction. And its not wrong either. But its just as much fun to try and understand what someone was trying to do – because there a million ways it can go south during filming and post-production. Liking a film and understanding it can often be two entirely different things.
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KP
August 16, 2008
Rangeela was a rip of a old Tamil movie called Yenni padigal (Ladder steps) There could have been a telugu version of this too. Shoba plays the role or Urmila and Sivakumar the role of Aamir. Only difference in the older movie they come from a village.
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abhishek
August 16, 2008
“Yes. I think the protagonist is, more or less, playing me. But then, every protagonist has some bits of me. “Mujhe jo sahi lagta hai, main wohi karta hoon” from Sarkar is me. “Main jagah se nahin, dimaag se kaam karta hoon” from Contract is also me. I said that when I lost my office. And most importantly, “Faisle nahin, nateeje galat hote hain” – that’s me too.”
BRangan,one of the characters which played the alter ego for ramu was that comical TELUGU DON goga always floating on sea away from land in CONTRACT where his every idea flops and reprimanded by the authorities(producers,critics,peers!)-‘abe tu flop pe flop deta jaa raha hai’and each time he has another idea at drop of hat -‘ruk ek naya idea soch raha hoon’.I was just laughing out throughout his portions!!
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Tambi Dude
August 16, 2008
The hindi version of Yenni Padigal is Sitara.
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raj
August 16, 2008
br, in these days of webworld, perhpas a journo must google atleast before going for an interview these days. Reason is if you had you could have been prepared for the kind of quotes RGV was going to give, the kin dof ready-made stories he is spewing to all and kind of prepared for questioning him beyond those layers. No offence but perhaps you have failed in your journalistic duties on this one.
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brangan
August 16, 2008
rbehemoth: Join the club 🙂
Aspi: “Liking a film and understanding it can often be two entirely different things.” Brilliant. And sometimes, liking a film and enjoying it can be mutually exclusive as well… You could write a thesis on how many ways there are that a film works it magic (or not) on you.
KP: “ladder steps?” Thank you 🙂
abhishek: I never looked at it that way. But “Telugu” don? wasn’t he Maharashtrian?
Tambi Dude: Yup, Sitara. I love that song with Lata M and Bhupinder, Thodi si zameen… And yes, the Gulzarisms like “tinkon ka bas… ek aashiyan” 🙂
raj: No, I don’t buy that at all. The way I look at it, I cannot possibly wade through the web every time, and be expected to remember what he told other people. If I did that, I’d be doing only interviews the whole time, and I’d need a ten-day lead time to prepare for each interview. I prefer to let interviews come through (a) my working knowledge of the person’s work and styles and so on, combined with (b) a willingness on the interviewee’s part to answer my questions and carry on a conversation. This shooting-from-the-hip style doesn’t always work, but I really can’t do what you’re expecting me to do. I’d drop dead of boredom.
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Tambi Dude
August 16, 2008
The song Thodi Si Zameen
It was one of the songs which per me has poor antara (prelude) and great antaras (interludes).
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brangan
August 17, 2008
Tambi Dude: Do you mean poor “mukhda” and great antaras? Or are you talking about the instrumental passages (i.e. the interludes)? Either way, this is a very sweet song that works for me in its entirety (well, except for Lata’s affected laughing), especially because of Bhupinder. The way he brings a trace of a minor note to “mein” in “mere ghar ke aangan mein” – aah!
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Tambi Dude
August 17, 2008
yup, I mean poor mukhada great antara.
No reference to instrumental passages.
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Ramsu
August 18, 2008
I haven’t read the man’s blog, so I don’t know how much he’s recycled. But on its own, it makes for very interesting reading.
The funny thing is, he almost always manages to sound interesting. Even if I absolutely HATED a movie he made, I’d still find myself listening to his take on the movie. It’s like listening to Scorsese speak on his and other’s films — the first thing you notice is how articulate he is.
I’m guessing there are virtually millions who might pounce on that previous line and tell me in great detail why RGV is not, and will never be, a patch on Scorsese 🙂 But in terms of how they speak rather than what they speak about, I find the two rather similar.
~ramsu
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Rahul
August 19, 2008
Haven’t read his blog either. But I find him to be quite an intelligent person in the way he admits about not being able to understand why a movie worked or not.
I have read hilarious write-ups on why a movie like TZP, Rang De Basanti became a hit and why a few others didn’t and I wonder at the gall of the person analyzing and writing about it, thrusting his opinion (hindsight) as a collective experience. Watching a movie is a very individual experience and getting it or not is also the same…depends on a whole lot of factors. I remember falling in love with ‘Moulin Rouge’, and watching it twice, back to back…and this was not because of the movie per se…but because of certain extraneous reasons 🙂
Rahul
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V V
March 9, 2009
He is definitely an intelligent person and has shown it with the movies he directed in the 90’s till Sarkar, but these days he is showing his intelligence in his blog and not in movies…..nevertheless a very interesting character who is expert in creating real characters!
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heartranjan
April 15, 2012
@Baradwaj Rangan: I don’t know if you still reply to comments on your blog, but I wanted to ask you this.
With people like RGV, it is sometimes difficult to draw a line between what he is saying, and the image that he has (due to others’, as well as his perception of himself). His blogs, and other interviews, seem to perpetuate this idea of this narcissistic person.
Do you just accept it as it is during the interview. What happens when you think a question might push him on the backfoot (esp. with people like RGV)? Do you still go ahead and ask it?
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brangan
April 16, 2012
heartranjan: I think you’re asking, in a way, if we can ever know when an interviewee is telling the “truth,” whether we can trust what he’s saying, whether he’s saying something just for effect (to perpetuate a persona) or if it’s really the case — so the only thing the interviewer can do is ask the right questions and hope that the answers are, if not “true,” then at least interesting (and possibly entertaining).
About the second part to your question, if I have a question that I think will make them defensive, then I try to ask it in as nice a manner as possible. Because all creative people are sensitive about their work and it’s important to let them know that you’re not there to attack them but to genuinely see what they have to say about this.
But that said, when you’re interviewing someone over just one session — say, the allotted hour that the PR person arranges — it’s a little difficult to get into that “comfort zone” where the interviewer and the interviewee get a sense of each other. And for a really good interview, it’s important that both parties are “in the zone.”
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narendrakumandan
September 13, 2018
You have a video recording of the interview ? If yes please upload
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