As he gears up for the release of ‘Shanghai’, Dibakar Banerjee talks about Emraan Hashmi, Abhay Deol and planning to gift his daughter a BarnaporichoyWhat’s it about Emraan that prompted you to cast him in “Shanghai”? Emraan has an effortless quality in him. Whatever roles he has done — be it films where he had to kiss his partner or fight in the rains — the audience can identify with his emotions.
Even if Emraan is serenading a girl wearing a sharkskin jacket while driving a sports car, he makes the his audience believe that they too can do what Emraan is doing. In “Shanghai”, I made Emraan play a character who represents this viewer whose icon is someone like Emraan Hashmi. He is a small town guy, who makes a living by being a photographer. He does odd jobs, isn’t well-read and has two or three press cards on him. He is a man of all seasons. What’s nice about Emraan is that he is a natural and has a great comic timing. His character undergoes a transformation and by the time the film ends, he is finally facing his own reality.
You are the only director with whom Abhay Deol has done two movies. How did you see him evolve as an actor? Abhay is the black sheep in most of his films. In “Shanghai”, he is the core of conservative, middle class India who clings on to his patriotic belief that India has to take over China one day. I’ve known Abhay as a spontaneous actor who doesn’t rehearse much. But here, Abhay is different. He is playing a Tamil Brahmin who is an IAS officer. Abhay asked for a language coach and insisted that everyday, before we shot the scenes, he spent at least 40 minutes with him. He researched on IAS officers apart from interacting with two different Tamilians from different social classes. He also got a book to learn Tamil alphabets.
Your movie is based on Greek author Vassilis Vassilikos’s novel, Z. There is a Costa-Gavras movie that has already been adapted from the same book. How difficult does the scope of adaptation become in such cases? The organic difference between a book and a film is that while in the former, we need to read what the character is going through and figure it out in our heads, the audience has to see those experiences in a movie. Ergonomically, a book often meanders in terms of the narrative. A film, in contrast, has to be more linear in structure. Writing the screenplay of an adaptation is a tough job. Urmi Juvekar and I bickered for a year to get the screenplay in place. In the book, there are two characters who come from the lowliest of society. They are involved in negative acts but Vassilis has dealt with them quite positively. He understood the compulsions of these two characters. The earlier film ignored these two characters. I didn’t.
Is this because in the Indian context, finding a sentimental reason for a character’s flaw is always a great way to win over the audience? No, that’s not it. The book was set in the 1960s and was written in the context of the Left and the Right wing politics. Today’s India has no political ideologies as such. It is more about the rich and the poor. From being a transmutation of a “Left and Right film”, “Shanghai” became a “Rich and Poor movie”.
“Shanghai” is a political thriller at a time when real-life political scenario has become one big tamasha with a lot of thriller element. Does that interest you? No. Most of the political thrillers in India are about this tamasha. But my film is about the politics in real life.
While you spent a year deciding on the screenplay of the movie, most of the hits in India today don’t even have the script... A script of an Indian film is as important as you make it. A film with lots of stars and expensive locations might generate 100 crore at the box office. But who knows whether the film wouldn’t have generated 200 crore at the BO if more attention was paid to the script or not. For me, the important factor is the need to make better and well-made cinema that’s organically complete. A well-made film should not be judged by its BO success. The maker and his respect for what he does in cinema should not be judged by what he earns by doing so.
Are you happy with what you’ve earned? Yes, I am. I have my house, my cars and can afford a decent standard of living.
Do you still not have a television at home? I don’t. My mobile still doesn’t have Internet connectivity. But do I look illinformed? I have my
iPad and I am very prompt about replying to e-mails.
Does your daughter insist that you let her watch cartoons on television? We don’t have a television at home. She doesn’t watch it.
Can she speak Bangla? No, she can’t. The fault is completely mine because I have never spoken to her in Bengali. My wife, Richa, is from Kolkata and can speak the language. But Richa and I speak in Bengali only when we have some secret to share in front of others. Otherwise, we speak in Hindi and English. I certainly want our daughter to be introduced to Bengali literature. My parents did that to me and, hence, my world opened up. I too would want that to happen to her and will soon gift her a Barnaporichoy.