‘I would never be dishonest to my film’

Nonika Singh

HIS films are slow and simmering. And he looks at issues, even the disconcerting ones like nepotism and casting couch, in the eye; square and firm without blinking or flinching. Sincerity defines director Vikramaditya Motwane’s cinema as also his freewheeling assertions. This maker of films like Udaan and Trapped is a man of detail. In the age of hi-tech superheroes, his protagonist Bhavesh Joshi is a “cottage-industry superhero, low on antics and high on intent, whose costumes and masks are all homemade.”

The genesis of Bhavesh Joshi draws from the well of personal experiences like the problems he encountered while getting his passport renewed. “Living in a metropolis like Mumbai can be very frustrating”, he says. In one sense, Bhavesh Joshi “is very much a male fantasy, an alter ego and latent desire to take control of things.”

However, since a film can’t just be about a hero bashing up people, Bhavesh Joshi became a story about corruption. His hero is played by Harshvardhan Kapoor, who takes on the system. Motwane, however, wouldn’t sugarcoat his reasons for casting the Kapoor kid. Somewhere the fact that Harshvardhan is Anil Kapoor’s son was a clinching factor. He reasons, “For it helps raise money. But I would never be dishonest to my film.”

The producer and director in him are mostly on the same page, besides, “eventually the director always wins.” He takes pride in his production house Phantom Films “being essentially a director’s company, which allows new directors complete freedom to make their kind of films.” Often it works in their favour as a clutch of fantastic films such as Queen, Udta Punjab, Masaan and NH10 get made. Indeed, every once in a while comes a High Jack. He chuckles and dubs it “an experimental failure, the downside of our non-interference policy.”

About his production house, he says, “We believe in stories, in directors.”

Strangely for someone who started his career with Sanjay Leela Bhansali, one can’t help but notice that his films are anything but magnum opus. However, he insists, “Look closely, and you will sense a similarity. Be it the blocking of scenes or shooting musical ones, there are many technical details I learnt from Sanjay.” Yet another stellar influence has been the one constant in his life Anurag Kashyap, whose Black Friday, he hails, is  a defining film that changed the notion of filmmaking in India. Of course, ultimately, “You have to find your own voice.”  As his films figure highly on critics’ metre, we wonder what critical appreciation means, especially when it doesn’t translate into magic at the boxoffice.

He answers, “Awards as well as critical acclaim may not draw in audiences immediately. But over a period of time, they do ensure that more people end up watching your films; maybe not in the same month but over the next five years.  It’s like a slow burn.” 

Hence, he isn’t perturbed by the imminent clash with far more hyped Veere Di Wedding.  On the chick-flick creating a greater buzz, he says in a lighter vein, “How can you compete with four, sorry five, women, if one were to include producer Rhea too?” More female producers and directors are certainly welcome and could counter the menace of casting couch. But the arrest of the likes of Harvey Weinstein, he hopes, would help women find the courage to take sexual predators head on. His own ardour seen in the painterly Lootera, interval-less Trapped and common man’s superhero in Bhavesh Joshi is as much about pushing the envelope as setting the benchmark.