TO DIE FOR: THE ANURAG KASHYAP INTERVIEW

His best films are confronting, contemporary works that challenge India’s filmmaking culture. Similarly, Anurag Kashyap defies expectations as an interviewee; his stare is intense, but his manner is gentle, his voice clear but soft. And fast; his perfect English and fierce intelligence makes it a challenge to keep pace. The 42 year-old director, best known for the visceral 2012 crime epic Gangs of Wasseypur, is in Cannes to shepherd his latest through a Director’s Fortnight slot; Raman Raghav 2.0 is a purely cinematic re-imagining of the life of India’s most notorious serial killer, whose random brutality terrorised Mumbai locals in the mid 1960s. “He is the Jack the Ripper of India, and we stuck to the facts of the case very closely,” says Kashyap, midway through a lengthy chat with SCREEN-SPACE in a 5^th floor lounge, a few blocks from The Croisette…

SCREEN-SPACE: How long have you wanted to tell this story?

Kashyap: When I got into the business of moviemaking, my first job as an apprentice was during post-production on a film based on the life of Raman Raghav. I never knew of him before, but I was writing crime short stories so I immediately became curious. I had access to all this material and was soon obsessed with making a film on Raman Raghav, an obsession that lasted 23 years.

SCREEN-SPACE: Why has it taken so long for you to realise the project?

Kashyap: We’ve had this script for the last six years, but I just couldn’t get the money to make the film. In India, we make very happy movies and a dark film like this, and a period film as well which immediately means it will cost a lot of money, no studio felt it would be feasible. But I was so invested in the story. And then, a lot of changes started to happen in India, politically and socially. Suddenly there is a lot fear in society; modern living became scarier, both in India and around the world. People have become so fearful of fundamentalism that they have become fundamentalists themselves. It was then that I realised the only way I was going to get the film made was to contemporise it. I actually had the title before I had the script! Raman Raghav 2.0, an updated version, like an iPhone (laughs). (Pictured, right; Nawazuddin Siddiqui in the title role)

SCREEN-SPACE: What was key to transplanting such a protagonist into modern day Indian society?

Kashyap: When I started writing, all these modern fears started to seep into the story. Working from my imagination and creating the mindset of the character, I realised he viewed himself as a much more pure person. Here is a criminal, a brutal criminal, who we know is going to kill, but then there is another man, a policeman who is supposed to protect me but who is also a killer, with his own reasons and conclusions. The serial killer murders because he wants to, that is easy to rationalise; it is a purity of thought. It is a complex philosophy, however warped it may be.

SCREEN-SPACE: Between Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s homicidal psychopath and Vicky Kaushal’s corrupt, unhinged cop (pictured, right), might audiences find it hard to root for anyone?

Kashyap: The audience is forced to root for the world that these characters co-exist in. I am rooting for what is outside of the room when the two of them share a scene. I hope that someday, society will learn what goes on when two people like this are together, how they manipulate reality for their own gain. That is the world today and that is what the film represents. I wouldn’t be allowed to address the politics of the story directly in my country, so I address within the construct of a genre film. Genre films have always played that purpose, subverting the politics of their society. When this film comes out in India, people will start to discuss and debate its politics. I want that discussion to take place.

SCREEN-SPACE: The two men certainly represent two sides of the same coin, as it were…

Kashyap: ‘Raman’ is the name of the villainous god in Indian mythology. But in Sri Lanka, the same ‘Raman’ is the hero. So our religion, our very belief systems, has this dichotomy about the co-existence of good and evil. In India, there is much discussion about this aspect of our existence, of belittling one belief system in favour of your own. That intolerance is what is afflicting the world at the moment.

SCREEN-SPACE: Are you concerned that the film might glorify the killer? Of turning him into a ‘Robin Hood’-type anti-hero?

Kashyap: Indian people know the story of the real Raman Raghav and they won’t confuse this movie’s version of him with the terrible person he was in real life. I’m doing more than projecting him as an anti-hero. I’m using the fact that audiences who flock to see him already view him as an anti-hero. This film is not a ‘whodunnit’, it is not about who is the serial killer; audiences go into the film knowing who the protagonist is. You know, I showed my actors and crew two films, Let the Right One In and We Are What We Are. These are neo-realistic films, about vampires and cannibals, which barely touch on the horror of their existence. I wanted to stress that we did not want to make a film about a serial killer, but about an individual trying to survive in a society with which his belief system is entirely at odds. (Pictured, right; Kashyap, centre, during the shoot).

SCREEN-SPACE: Your leading man, Nawazuddin Siddiqui, said this of you: “When he is behind the camera, I feel his supportive hand pushing me to break new ground and redefine boundaries…”

Kashyap: He is the clay I need to mould a character. Graciously, he allows me to do that. That trust comes from 17, 18 years of struggle together. In the early years, I promised him that we would make a film together and I would put him at the centre of it. I cast him in his first speaking role, two lines as a waiter in 1997 (laughs). We have such a comfort zone together. And that level of understanding and communication was crucial, as we only had three weeks to shoot. I sat down during pre-production and separated scenes and allocated dollars. All the sequences in the street were shot with a crew of four. We literally jumped out of a van, shot the footage, and left (laughs).

Raman Raghav 2.0 debuts Friday June 24 in worldwide release.

MY BROTHER'S KEEPER: THE PRASHANT NAIR INTERVIEW

In the same week as global media is consumed by some of the most tragic images ever captured detailing the immigrant plight, SCREEN-SPACE spoke with filmmaker Prashant Nair about his latest film, Umrika. It is the story of Rama (Suraj Sharma, from Life of Pi), a soulful innocent thrust into manhood as he searches for Udai (Prateik Babbar), the older brother who left to chase dreams of a better life in the U.S.A. Having announced his talent with his debut feature Delhi in a Day (2011), Nair’s sophomore work is a deeply humanistic take on the refugee experience, an artfully crafted, compelling piece of contemporary Indian cinema with a truly international voice; it scored the Audience Award (World Cinema) at the 2015 Sundance Film Festival...


From the very first frame, the images of family and community unity in the rural setting are beautifully warm and engaging. Is it your belief that the essence of India can be found in a simpler, more traditional way of life? 

Rural India is often portrayed as gritty and backward with an emphasis on issues like caste, poverty and illiteracy. And while all this is certainly present, there is also a warmth and simplicity that is equally present. On our research trips we were overwhelmed by the generosity and spirit of the people we met in the various tiny villages and I really wanted to capture that aspect. There is a certain joy that you experience in villages that is hard to find in the big cities of India.

Why the title Umrika? The subtitles translate into full English except for the word ‘Umrika’, perhaps suggesting it is less about a place and more about an ideal.

Exactly. There are many ways to spell America in Hindi and this one is slightly unusual. I wanted it that way because, in many ways, it is not America they are discussing but their own very specific idea of what America is -  an ideal that they have fabricated through the various letters that arrive and their own personal fantasies, hopes and dreams. As Andy Warhol said: “Everybody has their own America, and then they have pieces of a fantasy America that they think is out there but they can’t see… you live in your dream America that you’ve custom-made from art and schmaltz and emotions just as much as you live in your real one.” (Pictured, right; actors Suraj Sharma, left, and Tony Revolori)

What were the thematic reasons you set the film in the 1980s? Is the image of America as the land where dreams can come true no longer believable in 2015?

Actually, my reasons for setting the film in the 80s are mainly selfish. I grew up the kid of Indian diplomats and we would move every three years. I never lived in India but we would visit every second summer for three months throughout the 80s. It’s the India of my childhood and the India I wanted to portray out of nostalgia. Things were very different – the country was much more closed. There were only several types of cars, Doordarshan (State TV) was your only choice, the advertising, movies, music – I wanted to recreate all that.  Indian fascination with America was also peaking during those years. I do think America’s image as the land of opportunity, although not as strong as before, is still very much alive and well across the planet.

The film details a very particular set of intrinsically Indian circumstances that lead to the Rama’s plight, yet his journey could represent the refugee experience of any nationality…

Large numbers of Indians try to immigrate both legally and illegally each year. Just last year, a container was found in New Jersey and U.S. Border control continues to find a significant number of Indian migrants attempting to enter through the Mexican border. In terms of immigration as a global phenomenon, UNHCR’s figures are devastating and we are in one of the worst periods since the Second World War in terms of displaced people, immigrants and refugees. The recent events in Europe are heartbreaking and I hope, in some small way, Umrika allows its audiences to think of immigration beyond statistics and to connect with the story and background of one very particular immigrant in a personal way.

Can you put in context, primarily for non-Indian audiences, the role that the Nepalese women play in your film? One glances suggestively at Rama; Ubai has married one. It may be construed that they are negative influences, based upon ethnicity.
 
It’s not at all a statement on any community in particular but more about fear, in general, of what is not familiar. In Jitvapur village, there is a neighbouring community of Nepalese migrants who live alongside the villagers but who are not accepted by the villagers. Rama’s mother believes that her sons should marry someone of their own community and will not tolerate any exception to that. We learn later that one of the reasons Udai left was to marry the woman he wanted to, who happened to be Nepalese and who his Mother would never accept because she is not of the same community. It could have been any community other than their own, she would be equally unhappy. There is a lot of cinema about caste in India and it’s rare that I have a conversation with someone outside of India and it doesn’t come up. I felt like ethnic and racial prejudice in India is less addressed but unfortunately equally prevalent. (Pictured, left; (l-r) actor Prateik Babbar, director/writer Prashant Nair and actor Suraj Sharma, at Sundance 2015).

The final scenes unfold with a heartbreaking ambiguity. Given the setting is 30 years ago, the revelations about the destinies of Rama and Ubai seem horribly current. That makes for a very sad story, doesn’t it?

I had seen a lot of great films about how difficult the immigrant journey is or how hard it is once they reach their destination. I wanted to make a film about everything up until the decision to immigrate is made – to really give a glimpse behind statistics and tell a personal and unique story, (one that) leaves the audience hoping that our protagonist reaches where he is heading. I hope that the magnitude of his decision has a very concrete impact on the audience, in terms of humanizing this incredibly courageous and heartbreaking decision that millions do make. As we speak, someone is making the same decision that Rama makes in the film, facing odds of unimaginable proportions and willingly heading towards an uncertain future. As heartbreaking as it might be in the film, these are decisions people are making every day.

Umrika begins its Australian season on September 10; check local listings for release dates in other territories.