For our film, Accident, Nanditadi and i got 50 paise each: Shiboprosad Mukherjee

There was a time when he would borrow a shirt for his shoot, as he had none. To make himself presentable as an actor, he needed money, and there was none. Despite his skills as an actor, he became a television content producer for a steady source of income. And now, Shiboprosad Mukherjee — who once willingly buried this side of him — has returned as a successful director, who is also an actor and a producer. In a freewheeling chat, he opens up on life — then and now. Excerpts:

Haami

is running housefull even on weekdays in Kolkata and outside. What worked?
Content... The audience could relate to the story; it’s a nostalgic trip to childhood.

Seven theatres in Kolkata didn’t run the film. That must have somewhat affected the business…
The myth about theatres is broken, and that’s a good thing. Seven theatres didn’t run the film, but that didn’t stop the audience from watching it. I feel it’s the theatres that lost out on both — business and audience. If someone wants to watch a film, they will watch it anyhow; the hall doesn’t matter, content does. There’s no star in our film; all we have is a relatable story. It’s unfortunate that these hall owners preferred a Hindi release over a Bengali film and that too at a time when the viewership of Bengali films in theatres is on the decline.

Laltu

’s (his character in Haami) paunch is still there. How difficult was it to shift to your leaner character in

Kantho

in between?
I had to gain weight and sport a paunch to play Laltu Biswas in Haami, whereas for Kantho, I had to lose weight to play an RJ. So, I had to change my diet and cut down on carbs. I survived only on soup. The moment Kantho got over, I again put on a few kilos to look like Laltu for Haami’s promotions. And now I want to continue being like him, as he is very close to my heart.

Does this mean you relate to Laltu in real life?
Completely. I am from north Kolkata and happen to be a Bengali-medium passout. Much of Laltu’s words are my own. I’ve seen characters like Laltu in my growing up years. I used to play para khep cricket in Baranagar where I met someone called Makhon Bapi — a great batsman with a big moustache and a paunch, just like Laltu. He was popular for his honesty and simplicity. Actually, I have met many Laltus in my life — they are simple and honest, wear lungi at home, marry women who are more educated than them and take pride in what they are. Their English is poor, thus they admit their children in English medium schools to realise their unfulfilled dreams. People often laugh at them as they are not too smart. I want to bring their agony to the forefront. My aim is not to make fun of their problems but to highlight the fact that they are winners in their own way.

Was Makhon Bapi an inspiration for Laltu?
Oh yes! All my characters in all my films are based on real people. I was touched by his honesty.

While on acting, there was a time when you would borrow your outfits for Ekushe Pa. Now you have your own house, a fleet of cars and an enviable wardrobe. Life must have been a roller-coaster ride…
It’s a bumpy ride, but a ride nonetheless. Back then, I didn’t have the required outfits for the character. I had to borrow a shirt from my friend for the serial’s first scene. I often borrowed shirts from Neel (Sujan Mukherjee) because I never had decent clothes to wear. I used to wear terricot trousers with a panjabi, carry a jhola and my grandfather’s umbrella — that’s all I could afford. Now, I can’t keep track of the number of shirts in my wardrobe. I owe all my achievements to television. I’m proud of the fact that I have done the maximum number of non-fiction programmes for TV, including hugely popular shows like Ebong Rituparno and Naari. Back then we were
not allowed to do fiction on TV, as channels thought we’d not be able to do justice to it.
Do you come across people who rejected you in the past?
I do (laughs)! Post 2007-2008, I forayed into Bengali films and realised there was no money for directors. For the first three films, we didn’t get any remuneration and ended up using all our savings.

So how did you figure out the formula for success?
We couldn’t exhaust all our savings and decided to turn filmmaking into a profitable venture. I did not want to do TV for money and films for passion. I wanted to make films with passion and turn it into a profitable business.

Ramdhanu

was the first film that was a money-spinner and it was followed by the success of Belaseshe. It’s been a long journey but I feel it’s just the beginning. At present, there are just 100 theatres in

Bengal

that are good enough for a release. It’s nothing in comparison to a Telugu film that releases in almost 1,200 theatres across Andhra Pradesh. It’s a shame but a director can’t do much about it.

Jamai No. 1 released in 1998. Was it a life-changing moment since that’s when you met Nandita Roy?
Yes. It was an important break for me. Nitishda (Roy) had offered me this commercial film as a hero. The success of Ekushe Paa made Nitishda cast me despite not having the looks of a conventional hero. I had several offers at that time. I did films with Rituparno Ghosh and had I not joined television, I would have featured in Utsab too. When you become a commercial hero, you need to be more presentable, but I had no money for that. I knew I won’t be able to fight this battle. Moreover, at that time, I lost two pillars of my life — my father and uncle — within a gap of 12 hours. Neither my elder brother nor I had a steady source of income to run the family. That was when I landed a job in a private channel, thanks to Nanditadi. As a result, acting took a backseat.

Do you regret that?
I regret not coming across any producer/director like Shiboprosad back then who could utilise my acting skills. Nobody wanted to launch a newcomer like me. But I was fortunate to have found Nanditadi, who helped me realise I could become a director.
You are not a regular actor. Don’t you wish to go the Kaushik Ganguly way — managing acting and direction at the same time?
Kaushikda did not enter this industry as an actor. I started out as an actor but turned into a director though I always wanted to act. I was praised for my acting, but back then I couldn’t find suitable roles. Now, I get lots of acting offers but I turn down all of them due to lack of time. I rejected Anindyada’s (Chattopadhayay) offer thrice!

Earlier, you used to be compared to other directors and now, you are pitted against producers…I don’t know about competition, but seeing our success as independent producers, many are showing the courage to come forward. We, as a production house, have proven that a film can be a hit even without a big banner and star cast; it’s the content that matters.

Who do you consider to be your biggest threat in the industry?
I guess it is just me! We have always worked to improve on a daily basis. I narrate four stories to Nanditadi every day and she rejects all at
one go. My challenge is to make her say yes to at least one out of my
30 stories.

Professionally, everyone thought you felt an undercurrent of tension with the biggest production house here before you surprised everyone by selling off the digital rights of your films to them.
The biggest production house here is also the distributor of Qube. Does that mean I will not release my films because it belongs to them? Selling my films’ digital rights is a business deal. Like Posto’s Bangladesh rights belong to Ashok Dhanuka and the digital rights belong to the production house you are talking about. I don’t care who says what, these are just business deals for me.

Is Shiboprosad the new dada of the industry? They say, you pay less and don’t inform actors when they are replaced.
Dada? We just do our work. And I don’t remember paying anyone less. Actors work with us on the basis of agreement.

It’s said that heroines never get special treatment on your sets…
I have to stick to my budget. We serve muri for evening snack since we cannot afford grilled fish. I don’t provide makeup vans as my cast hardly needs makeup. I feel makeup vans should not be allowed anywhere, as heroines take too much time to leave the van and get to the sets (laughs). The day someone walks out of the theatre after watching our film and says, superb camera work or lovely sets or lovely costumes, we’ll be finished as directors! We look forward to hearing from the audience — what a film, eta toh amader golpo! That’s always the winning moment for us.

Director, producer or actor Shiboprosad — who do you keep ahead?
In terms of work, it’s director Shiboprosad and in terms of passion, it’s actor Shiboprosad. And now, my company needs producer Shiboprosad. All three are different.

Coming to producer Shiboprosad, people in the industry are of the opinion that you understand film business like no one else.
I have learnt the nitty-gritty of film business with time and experience. When I directed films for other producers, I had to wait for their approvals. There were some producers who left us midway, so all these situations helped us learn. I also realised that if we have to survive, we need to handle both direction and production.

Does this mean you will never work with any other producer?
I didn’t want to release Accident before Puja but I had to. Officially, Nanditadi and I got 50 paise each as remuneration for the film as per the agreement. So enough learnt! I will never work for any other producer.

50 paise?
I asked for a certain camera for the film and the producer said he had no budget for it. So we gave up our remuneration for the camera, as for us, the film was more important. With all these bitter experiences I realised that I have to direct, produce as well as promote my films to have total control over things. It was the same with distribution and music. That’s how I learnt to master this business; else I wouldn’t have been able to save my films.

Do current affairs play a major inspiration behind your films?
If I don’t react to news then I am not of any help to society. If an incident affects me, I ought to make a film on that. The trust issue between parents and teachers is a major concern today, which is the crux of Haami. I stay next to Malancha cinema and the incident that happened in a Ranikuthi school was horrifying. I felt I should react to this and Haami was a result of that. While making Alik Shukh, no hospital allowed me to shoot because they wanted to portray doctors as gods. But in my film I showed that doctors, like other humans, were prone to mistakes.

Content wise do you think Bengali films are lagging?
I made Ramdhanu in 2014 and Bollywood made Hindi Medium in 2017, so when it comes to content, we are way ahead.
Despite making a splash with your content, some of your characterisation of women is called regressive. The common argument is that you are asking women to make sacrifices to lead a happy life. In our films, everything is a reflection of what happens in real life. In Praktan, Aparajita Auddy’s character feels that certain adjustments can bring love. In the same film, we see Rituparna (Sengupta) asking her husband not to disturb her for two days and he comes to pick her up from the station at 3 am. What about that? In Haami, there is a scene where two mothers are seen fighting outside the school because such things do happen around us.
Your films are feted at the box office, but hardly at the awards nights...

Rabi Ghosh never got any award and then, Mithun Chakraborty has six National Awards. The audience will remember both for their individual feats.

Coming to Haami, who is the first person you ever kissed?
Technically, my mother. But if you are referring to dushtu haami, then it was my first girlfriend (smiles).

Is Shibu still as mischievous?
I am still naughty but the haami khawa dustumi came to an end with my marriage.