‘I’M LIKE A ONE-MAN ARMY’

Is getting a producer still as difficult as the time when you started off?
Things have become slightly better, I suppose. At least the time is perfect now. There are multiplexes coming up. There’s a greater awareness of world cinema. But the one thing that still holds us back is the lack of free thought. We imitate the worst of the West, but not things we might be better off with. I don’t have a national distribution in India, but in France I have one for each of my movies. I have personally met up with multiplex owners in India, negotiating with them for a screening at smaller auditoriums. They keep giving me half-hearted assurances and putting it off. It will still be a while before filmmakers like us get ample funds.

How do you qualify your kind of films?
I don’t call it art film. I call it cinema that makes you think. It’s not just a story but a vision of reality. I don’t like to repeat myself, because I believe my audience should experience life in its core, not in its superficiality. 

So how do you perceive Bollywood?
I don’t really know. The idea of an entertainment that entails leaving your common sense back at home does not appeal to me. You clap at what you see and feel happy with the mindless action in front of you because that’s what you have come to expect. It sells, I guess. So people are happy about it. As a filmmaker, I feel it’s my duty to rouse my audience’s interest in an experience that is not superficial, that is a part of life, that they have never known before. Maybe we have different priorities.  

Do you watch Hindi movies at all, the kind that are being made now?
Mostly, no. I am very picky about the movies I watch. I like to have prior knowledge about any movie that I watch and I leave halfway if I don’t like it. Hindi movies, unfortunately, don’t interest me. When I go to watch a movie, I am looking for the unusual, a new approach. There has to be something new that I can take back. But, unfortunately, in Hindi movies I know what I will see. A good-looking boy and girl dancing around trees and pretending life is just about that. I’d rather not see it.

Do awards make a difference to how people come to view your work? You have won every possible Indian award that you could.
You know, there was a time when awards did make a difference. The whole point of the National Award was to tell the audience that these are the films this year, which have made their mark, and you should not miss them. It amounted to an international award because you were competing with films in 20 or more languages. But now, it’s been devalued with rigging and the kind of assessment that goes on. A judge needs to be qualified enough either in terms of his work, or his knowledge. Sadly, that tradition is lost in India now. Internationally, however, it makes a difference. An award means you get producers instantly and the chance for a wider and bigger audience.  

All your movies are made in Malayalam and shot in Kerala. Have you never been tempted to make a movie in any other language?
You know, language is not just a medium of communication. It’s a culture that you are brought up in. I like the fact that in India there are so many sub-cultures to create a bigger pattern. Every sub-culture has a nuance and a difference. Diversity is extremely important or else we’ll become like Americans who have the same way of addressing and resolving various issues and relationships. For the same reason, I don’t think I can make a film in any other language. I wouldn’t know the nuances and my perception would be all wrong.  

You had a close bond with Satyajit Ray and you trained under Ritwik Ghatak. Tell us a bit about that chapter in your life.
Well, when I was growing up, I was more into theatre than movies. In fact, I always wanted to be involved with theatre. But my family owned a few cinema halls in Kerala, so I did have the opportunity to watch lots of movies for free. Then, I chanced upon Ray’s Panther Panchali in 1958. I didn’t understand much of it, but the movie left its impact. Later, when I was holding a screening of my second film Kodiyettam in Delhi, I heard Ray was in Delhi too, so I invited him. He came for it and I was hoping he would like my film. He told me he did. We were in close touch ever since. As for Ritwikda, he was my teacher at the Film Institute (presently known as the Film and Television Institute of India or FTII). I learnt everything under him.  

So have you never been tempted to go back to theatre?
Well, for the longest time that was all that I wanted to do. In 1959, I was working as an investigator in the economical and statistical department. It was a central government job but after two years I was fed up. I had read up a fair amount of plays, written several of my own and had a few published. I wanted to go back to theatre. I couldn’t apply to the National School of Drama because the medium of instruction was Hindi and my knowledge of the language was superficial. That’s when I came across a poster of the Film Institute, as it was called then. I saw a course in scriptwriting and thought it would help me hone my skills as a playwright. The medium of instruction was English and I joined in 1962, the second batch of students. For the entire first year, I only engaged myself in studying scripts and theatre production. But then, I realised I couldn’t manage too many things at one go, so I decided to appreciate theatre and make films (smiles). 

NSD’s loss was the film-world’s gain then…
I don’t know about that. I am what my work is. No more, no less.

You are being modest now…
People tell me I am modest, but I always tell them I am not. I know very well what I want from my life. There is very little that surprises me because I spend a great amount of time planning and executing it. My wife tells me I am a difficult person to live with, but I hope she is joking (smiles). 

What are you working on now?
A continuation of sorts of my last film, Naalu Pennungal. I had singled out about eight short stories out of about 400 from the works of my favourite author Bashir. I drew ideas from four of them for Naalu Pennungal and brought them together in the four disconnected stories in the film. There’s nothing common in the four stories, but together there’s a progression of time, theme, conflict and level of awareness. My next film draws on some of the other short stories that I had shortlisted. The film is called Oru Pennum Rantaanum (A Woman, Two Men). It should be ready for release over the next 10 months. I love to work with short stories because they are not conclusive. They give you the scope to develop on them, introduce new situations and look at life afresh. It’s my vision of the author’s work.