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sitanshi talati-parikh

sitanshi talati-parikh

Category Archives: Interviews (All)

Whom Women Want: Imran Khan cover story

13 Saturday Nov 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Interviews (All), Interviews: Cinema, Interviews: Cover Stories, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Avantika Malik, Bollywood, I Hate Luv Storys, imrankhan, indiancinema, Kidnap, Luck, Nuzhat Khan, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Verve Man Supplement, Cover Story, October 2010
Photographs: Joy Datta

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He’s the hot cake of the film industry, has a thriving gay fan following and is quite the favourite with the ladies. This is Imran Khan after he’s delivered his second big hit, I Hate Luv Storys and has a movie lined up with nearly every top actress in the industry: a big notch up from his overnight debut success. While Verve’s camera captures a day in the life of the movie star, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh looks beyond his distracting good looks to discover what makes him tick and makes him the coolest catch in town

“I’ve wanted him to be a man women would like,” is how Nuzhat Khan begins the conversation about her only child. Even the toughest detractors and hardest cynics would find it impossible to dislike 27-year-old Imran Khan, who admits to have consciously imbibed the best aspects of favourite characters from classic books, movies and comics. So, in a sense, the elusive, romantic notion of the man that women chase from fiction is actively present in Imran’s personality. Does that make him perfect? “It’s a work-in-progress,” he grins. In Nuzhat’s ideal lies a fundamental difference that sets Imran apart – while others stop at being good according to their own definition, Imran without self-deprecating, without martyring himself, goes the extra mile to be universally likeable.

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This precocious child started speaking long, coherent sentences at a very early age – and in Nuzhat’s words, “He was a complete person even as a child, never requiring disciplining – I could talk to him like a grown-up.” It doesn’t appear to be a statement stemming from a maternal fondness, because she has always attempted to look at Imran as an unrelated person, without bias. “I would hate for him to have grown up thinking he’s special because his mother thinks so – it should be because he believes it.” And that is what makes Imran self-assured. “I don’t think I’ve ever had issues with self-doubt. What I can’t change, I don’t let it influence or affect me. Even if it may seem unnatural for a teenager to be so, I have always been a kind of calm, reasonable, logical person – prided myself on being mature. It is something I consciously hold onto, that I’ve never wanted to lose. I always wanted to be the guy who can handle a situation.” And he can do that, MacGuyver-style, in any condition, under any circumstance.

This what his fiancée, Avantika Malik, in her light, lilting voice, lists as one of the traits that makes him the man she has known to love for eight years and counting, from the age of 19. She finds that through career choices veering from wanting to remain behind-the-scenes as a director, to embracing the limelight as a hero, nothing has changed in the boy she dated and the man she is soon to be married to. “The great thing about Imran is that at his very core, he remains completely the same, grounded and real, though it’s true that he carries himself with more ease and with greater confidence now than ever before.” Avantika admits that her respect for him also stems from the vital fact that he has never given her any reason to doubt his intentions, always being honest and forthcoming about his feelings. She quotes her mother, Vandana Malik, here, who describes Imran as, ‘one of very few God’s good people.’

What makes Imran refreshingly undiabetic, though, is his well-controlled moodiness – evidenced by his need for alone time – his sharp wit, often sardonic and dry, and his toe-the-line principles. You can’t cross boundaries he’s drawn because doing so endangers the very nature of that relationship and his tolerance towards you. But if you work within these limits, you can find in him a genuine friend – warming your grey cells against his razor-sharp repartees. Sonam Kapoor, his co-star in I Hate Luv Storys, marks “his humility and hunger for knowledge, but most of all his quirky sense of humour” as appealing, and Deepika Padukone, with whom he has the upcoming romantic dramedy Break Ke Baad, finds him a fun, supportive co-star, calling him, ‘Mr-Know-It-All.’ “Imran likes to know everything about everything and if there’s ever a time that he doesn’t, he will immediately read up or Google it.” Also known as ‘Imikepdia’ among his friends, intelligence in liberal doses is something Imran prides himself in having: “My dad (Anil Pal, IT professional in Sunnyvale, California) – after all, mera baap hai – knows more about everything than I can ever know. Currently it’s uncool to know stuff, but I have always considered it to be a good thing to be knowledgeable.”

That knowledge extends to supporting causes he believes in, whether it is attempting to create a greener world – he contributed an essay on being environmentally-friendly for Verve last year – to standing up for one’s democratic rights like voting or finding a shelter for homeless animals. With his personal brand of humour and wit, he uses his columns and public forums to inspire people into action – fighting religious myopia and mediocrity, for instance. And he walks the talk: ensuring that his house is environmentally friendly, adopting stray animals and taking criticism positively to ensure achieving his own potential. It works for him, after all, women haven’t given up on idealism: Saan, co-moderator of his unofficial fan site (www.imran-khan.org) is rather taken in by his principles: “I find his honest dedication to good causes and his belief in human beings very hot.”

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Sex-appeal? With Imran it’s never about the superficial stuff. “Good looks are not it. People are sweet and well behaved. But for my family, we lay a great deal of importance on integrity. It means different things for different people, but he doesn’t let go of that principle,” says Nuzhat. Imran accurately assesses that people gravitate towards his personality. “People like me when they meet me. I am an amiable, easy-going person. I like people and that translates well. Rakes work for younger women – say until the age of 25-26. I’ve always been the good guy, and up until a certain time I had absolutely no success with women…and suddenly everyone starts coming forward with, ‘You’re such a great guy!’ and I’m thinking, ‘Where were you 10 years ago?’” While his contemporaries play the field as cavalier Wickhams and Willoughbys, Imran remains the quintessential dependable Darcy. As Shaima, the founder of his fan site observes, “What I love about him is that he may be your typical heartthrob, but he isn’t a heart-breaker.” The fact that he has been in a committed relationship for longer than even he can remember may have something to do with it, but as Imran points out, he is quite the unlikely candidate to be “having short-lived affairs with aspiring actresses and models.”

There is a sense of vulnerability about the boy-man that is carefully concealed. I noticed it when I inadvertently came across him eating a boxful of chocolate bars, trying to calm his nerves before going in front of a live audience, over a year ago. You get barely a moment to notice it, before it flickers away. The face is always composed, the voice is always modulated and the feathers are impeccably unruffled. He is never reactionary: his sensitive personality is reined in by his logic-driven outlook. “My motivations are emotional, but my actions are rational. Both take place simultaneously. I’m not a shoulder people cry on; I am the guy who gives advice. Emotionally I am not great – I’m a fairly emotionally reserved person. People bring me things to fix, I’m a mechanic.”

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And where reason is important, experimentation isn’t a part of who Imran is – he doesn’t choose to tread dangerous waters unless it will take him to the next step in his calculated climb to the top. Despite the fact that the prudence of his choices were questioned when he faced flak for films Kidnap and Luck, Imran makes every decision after great deliberation – he rarely, if ever, backtracks on that choice. He is quick to rectify errors, learn from the past and lay the foundation for the future, all the while maintaining a stoic demeanour about the present. For instance, his earlier bluntness – stemming from the inability to see the ramifications of brute candour – has now been prudently replaced by tactful replies, truthfulness coated with a barely perceptible paint of diplomacy. You would believe him to have a mental check-list, of the kind of movies he wishes to do, about the people he wants to work with, about the path his life should take, and find him actively fitting pieces of the puzzle to make it all fall into place.

The culmination of being inherently good, irrefutably smart, and irreverently humourous makes him a person you’d want to know despite his potential of being a big movie star. Imran is very clear about stardom: “You have to be a bankable star – to justify the money. You wear different hats. Being treated with deference can get irritating, because it can get too much; but not being treated with deference, bothers you too. I wear no hats in real life.” Twenty months ago, Imran prided himself on being the guy next door, who could roam around town ‘practically invisible’. Today, after the aggressive promos and resounding success of I Hate Luv Storys, he finds himself the reluctant star – unable to do so anymore. While he believes in positive fan interaction, he’s withdrawn from the popular social networking tool, Twitter, to ensure meaningful conversations over general mass following. Few can be actors before they are stars, few can uphold the integrity of their work over the drug of adulation and you believe he is one who can, possibly insulated by his rootedness. Nuzhat, with sudden maternal candour admits, “Yes, I worry that his goodness can suffer at the hands of the movie industry, but more so, I hope Imran never becomes content with mere success, but pushes the limits towards better and more meaningful work. And I don’t mean that for movies alone – but for it to extend to every part of his life.”

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Post the success of his first film and the lack-lustre performance of two soon after, he wasn’t noticeably insecure, but definitely eager to prove himself once again. He took the beating in his stride, with the same equanimity with which he handled his overnight rise to fame. Today, there is a sense of retribution inflected in his tone – his choice of words denote an obviously confident person, who is merely reflecting the assurance that repeat success brings. While he doesn’t believe in destiny and can’t predict the future, he is secure: in the knowledge that he has everything that he would need to make his world go around – career back on rails, the power to pick and choose from the best of the industry lined up at his door, the girl, the family, and complete faith in himself. Al Pacino’s Tony Montana in Scarface famously said, ‘First you get the money, then you get the power, then you get the woman.’ Imran may have got it all in the wrong order, but for all the right reasons, he’s hot, he’s wanted and it looks very much like he’s here to stay.

Imran Notes
“Being the only child, I had more one-on-one time with my parents and time to introspect. I can’t deal with loud noise – like TV. I need regular periods of silence and quiet.”

“Who knows what makes you sexy? I think my personality works for me – people like me when they meet me. I am an amiable, easy-going person.

Imran owns a rare edition of his favourite comic book, batman, a Batman tie and believes that were he to have a superpower, it would be MacGyvering. He’s a Star Wars fan and considered being an archaeologist post an Indiana-Jones phase.

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Imran Style Guide
He’s been known for his quirky tees, comfort-fit denims and one-of-a-kind sneakers. The ones he is wearing at the Verve shoot are hand-painted Beatles Nike keds sourced by Avantika from LA. Lately, inspired by old movies and the Rat Pack’s sharp “badass” attire, he has decided he wants more from the way he dresses. He’s decided to “bring back the suit by taking that style of dressing and turning it over on its head. It’s not about what you do. You wear it, don’t let it wear you.” To drive the point home, he quotes Alec Baldwin from 30 Rock, who when asked why he’s wearing a tuxedo at work, snaps back, ‘It’s after seven, what am I, a farmer?’

Pop-culture Candy

27 Monday Sep 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Art and Design, Graphic Novel, Literature, Popular Culture, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Nerve, September 2010

When Pixar animator and storyboard artist, Sanjay Patel, takes a break, he sketches Hindu deities. Check out his pop-culture illustrations of traditional Hindu marriages

 

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You see The Little Book of Hindu Deities and inevitably think kitsch, mired in the nostalgia of tradition and…cute. Flipping through it, you find yourself amused by artwork that is fresh, appealing and inoffensive; and fascinated by the information that you are, in all likelihood, quite unaware of. And of course, the illustrator’s repertoire is impressive – he is a supervising animator and storyboard artist for Pixar Animation Studios, where he has worked for the last 14 years on features that include Monsters, Inc., A Bugs Life, Toy Story 2, Ratatouille, WALL-E, The Incredibles, Toy Story 3 and CARS. He has worked on The Simpsons for Fox and also with legendary cartoonist John K. California-based Sanjay Patel sends us an illustrative self-portrait, while replying to our questions via email:

 

What brings about the interest in Hindu deities?
For a very long time I had zero interest in anything Indian. Growing up in LA with devout Hindu parents, I desperately just wanted to fit in. It was only until I felt comfortable being myself, did I begin to explore Hindu iconography.

 

Why do you illustrate deities in an irreverent pop-culture format?
To show people a contemporary view of Hindu iconography and their legends. By that I mean, a view from the perspective of someone born between two cultures – the US and India; through the lens of modernism, graphic design, and animation. And from a voice that is rooted in the pop culture of the US and is acutely aware of the relevance of Hinduism and its devotees. This is just a means of communicating with people in my age group, who are culturally disconnected, who love design and animation, who are curious about Hinduism and spirituality, and who just can’t resist something cute.

 

Do you feel nostalgia about tradition creeping in?
I can’t speak to the sense of nostalgia. For me, having an Indian name, background and face, and yet not ever having set foot on Indian soil, can lead to different longings: to have all the things that make me up coexist in creative space. So it’s been incredibly gratifying to finally bring together my passion for Disney animation with the roots of my parents’ traditions and to forge a new cultural symbol in the form of my books.

 

Is pop culture the way of life today, or is it a way to subconsciously subvert culture and tradition?
I’ve definitely used the tropes of pop culture to get a message across that culture is changing: that a person that looks Indian could be American, or that a book that looks like cartoon could actually be a visual temple. The Hindu Deities book looks like pure pop-culture candy, but will hopefully enlighten you without giving you a cavity.

 

What’s your verdict on India’s animation scene?
There is lots of animation work being done in India these days. Most of it is derivative and lacking in its inspiration. But as artists gain confidence, they will undoubtedly begin to create content that is unique. My hope is just as the animation master Hayao Miyazaki manages to tell stories that feel uniquely Japanese, maybe one day there will be Indian animators that will tell tales that feel uniquely rooted to their soil.

Sculpted Vision – Bharti Kher

27 Friday Aug 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Art and Design, Bharti Kher, Indian Art, Interview, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Nerve, August 2010

Bharti Kher is now considered ‘India’s top woman artist’. We catch up with the 3-time Verve Power Lister post the astounding sale of her sculpture at a recent Sotheby’s auction

 

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Her elephant sculpture, The Skin Speaks a Language Not Its Own, reportedly sold for a hefty $1.5 million, giving UK-born, India-residing Bharti Kher a permanent residence in the top echelons of artistic stardom. In a quick Q&A:

 

Artists stray from using traditional symbols of India, but you are popularising them (elephants, bindi etc) as elements with great depth.
It’s not particular to India as such, what I’m interested in is the ready-made and its transformation, and then the cliché and how it sits in our consciousness. When you use something so obvious there has to be subversion.

 

Every artist strives to have their voice heard and influence public opinion. Do you believe you’ve managed to do that?
I don’t think artists have very powerful voices, we whisper for a long time, perhaps! Maybe people will look at Indian art more, but they have been looking for a long time: this generation has had a lot of exposure already.

 

Does it bother you that Indians are not the ones purchasing the works; it is a foreign gallery/ foreign collectors?
Yes it would if it was true. Indians do buy my work but less than those from abroad…some major works left when they could have stayed.

 

Where do you believe Indian artists fall short in terms of gaining international recognition and acceptance?
Indian artists don’t fall short at all, it’s just that the world is a bit slow and needs time to catch up to them!

 

How does it feel to be one part of a successful couple in the same profession – being married to Subodh Gupta?
We are both working hard right now…we talk, we fight, nothing is easy and we are still sailing.

 

What attracts you to life-size sculpture?
It creates a relationship with the self. Scale is something I enjoy – whether I want the works to envelope you or seem fragile, so that you (the viewer) feel like a giant or an elf.

 

Since you work on each piece for a long duration – a few months at a time – do you ever feel that the idea stops mattering to you or changes?
I usually work on many works simultaneously, so none of them ever reach the same level of completion at the same time – therefore the energy is always different at each stage of a work. I have to keep my sanity!

 

Hypothetically, what do you think your career graph would look like had you remained in the UK and established yourself as an artist from there?
I can’t talk about the things that never were. Maybe I would have been a writer or a mental patient! It’s fun to think about the ‘what ifs’ and go on strange journeys with yourself.

Laughter Club

17 Tuesday Aug 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Stand-up Comedy, The Comedy Store, vervemagazine, Vir Das

Verve Magazine, Nerve, July 2010

Stand-up comedians are coming of age in a country that loves stage tamasha (real and reel), with international comedians trying their brand of humour here as well

I think I’d never really, really laughed, like laughed-until-I-nearly-peed-in-my-pants until I laughed at a hole-in-the-wall, I-look-ghetto-but-I’m-really-cool place in Greenwich Village, Manhattan. The Comedy Cellar had three hilarious men (why is it mainly men who have the balls to say horribly rude things? Is that an obvious answer, anatomically speaking?) who got away with saying incredibly offensive things to some very decent people. And some other very decent people had a major, side-splitting laugh at those other decent people. And not to forget nervous laughter, wondering if you’d be the next target.

There’s something absolutely liberating about going to watch a stand-up comic. It’s also particularly pleasing because here’s a person who’s really putting himself out there. Any other performance artiste may get polite claps, but a stand-up comic rarely ever benefits from anything polite. In the split second after he’s said his line, the laughter should come rolling in, and if it doesn’t, it’s not even a pregnant pause, it’s deeply embarrassing. To then keep going, have the courage to move right onto the next joke, to often poke fun at oneself, is something that makes the comic endearing; and if he’s one of those witty, vicious, mean ones who are just out to tear you apart (for all the times they’ve never been laughed at) it makes him someone to be feared.

Stand-up comics in India in the English language are few, but growing more every day as we discover actual comedy clubs that offer a permanent podium for the travelling comics, international comics and local ones. It is no longer about renting a space at a hotel, holding stage in an auditorium; it’s about having an identity of your own. After touring India last year, The Comedy Store has arrived at Palladium, Phoenix Mills, Mumbai, where Jo Caulfied, a female comic is performing this month, from July 8 to 11.

STAND-UP TONIC

31-year-old Vir Das has been on the comedy circuit for five years, done about 2000 acts, written his own, hosted TV shows, acted in Hindi cinema (most recently seen in Badmaash Company), started India’s first comedy rock band, Alien Chutney, and his company Wierdass Comedy has started India’s first ever open mic for amateur comedians. Early next year he will be seen in Aamir Khan Productions’ Delhi Belly.

So facing the people of the West and India…
I think the Indian audience requires a little more homework. You have to work a little harder to warm them up in the first five minutes, but once you do, they are a louder and better audience than any.

It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there….
I am nervous before each show. You never really know how it’s going to go. My jokes are like throwing darts at a board, some of them stick and some of them end up biting you in the ass.

The three things you find really funny:
Women, women and women!

How much is improv?
Performing comedy is like cooking live. It’s hard to tell where it’s going to go; you are constantly adjusting to audiences’ laughter levels and room energies. There is a heavy amount of improvisation in my shows.

What’s the scene with international comedians coming to India?
Indians are a very seasoned comedy audience. I also think they know that every foreign comedian is not a good comedian. Therefore, when you claim to be an English comedian in India, given that everyone has mainly seen a Seinfeld, Cosby, Carlin or Murphy, the bar is bloody high.

And you wanted to be a comedian because?
Circumstance. There is a certain humour that comes with having nothing to lose. The toughest situations in my life have been the funniest. All I did was write them down.

“Books don’t end fantasies – real life does!” Interview with Rupa Gulab

26 Monday Jul 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Indian Fiction, Interview, Literature, Rupa Gulab, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Features, July 2010

Irrepressible fiction writer Rupa Gulab is back with another tale to tell, the story of 40-something Mantra who quits her job and battles everything that can possibly go wrong at that time in her life, exploring the vicissitudes of midlife crises. Sitanshi Talati Parikh in a freewheeling chat with the author

What’s fun? Writing the book or planning the book?
Planning a book is great fun. You just scribble notes while you’re lazing in bed eating chocolates and feel like you’ve accomplished a big deal! Writing a book, however, is hard work. My characters rarely act according to my plans – they’re stubborn, annoying, and insist on doing their own thing. It’s a huge struggle making them toe the line – very often, I have this overpowering urge to get them brutally murdered. Maybe I should start writing crime novels instead!

As you grow older, do your characters age with you?
That’s not strictly true. My next book after Girl Alone was for a younger target audience (Chip of the Old Blockhead) – a thirteen-year-old coming to terms with the fact that her divorced parents are falling in love with each other again – and experiencing her first crush as well. I don’t necessarily write for my own age group – I like to believe that I write for women of all ages.

Situations are not really funny when they are happening are they? But in retrospect….
Oh, I absolutely agree – everything looks better in retrospect. I always make it a point to look back with laughter. When you continue to be bitter and resentful, you need to consume gallons of antacids – and I hate, hate, hate antacids – they taste like chalk!

Do you think it really helps an average woman to read about another and find solace?
Yes it does help – particularly if you identify with the character’s problems. Why do you think chick lit always sells? Most single women enjoy reading about the trials and tribulations of other single women. You don’t feel so alone then. It’s a great comfort read. A Girl Alone fan once told me that she re-reads my book on those date-less Friday nights.

So it’s the end of fantasy for women?
Books don’t end fantasies – real life does!

Is there a greater social comment about a woman like Mantra, who feels a loss of control over her life?
I wouldn’t say that it’s a social comment. It’s just something that happens to most of us when we hit the big four-oh. That’s when you realise that almost half your life is over and the other half is not remotely attractive or promising at all: wrinkles, failing eyesight, depression and the desperate, irrational feeling that this is your very last chance to achieve what you really, really want; whether it’s your love life, career, whatever.

Mantra is placed in a higher social bracket. But a woman doesn’t become secure without basic financial trouble does she?
Money can’t buy happiness. We all learn that – sometimes the hard way.

Do you ever find the man in your stories insecure, or is it just the woman?
In my first book, Girl Alone, only the female characters were insecure. That’s because they were in their late twenties/early thirties: single, psycho and looking for love. The male characters were, as men that age usually are, rabid commitment-phobes. In The Great Depression of the 40s, all the characters are insecure about different things – including the three male characters. Vir is worried about losing his job – his stress levels are extremely high. While Karan doesn’t dissuade his wife from meeting her ex-boyfriend, he’s not exactly comfortable with it – the wily fox needs to see them interact every now and then to get a feel of the situation. And the college-going Rohan is miserable and mopey when his cool girlfriend insists on a no strings attached relationship. In the real world, everyone is insecure!

It sounds like you pretty much put into words what you are thinking….
I write exactly as I think. And the reason why I mainly do satire is because I can see through most people and situations. I have to confess that I have the most horrible, terrible nicknames for people in my head – but you can’t blame me for it because I got this from my mum. What can I say – I have lousy genes!

What do you turn, to read?
I’m a fairly eclectic reader, but I stick to fiction. Mainly humour, with a little bit of intensity every now and then. I have way too many favourite authors to list, but I must say that P.G. Wodehouse continues to be a hot favourite. He’s a great pick-me-up when I’m down. He dries tears better than Kleenex tissues.

So you’ve knocked out the 30s, 40s and the teens. What’s next?
I have two strong plots in mind – one for young adults and the other for the chick lit brigade, but I have no idea right now which one I’ll go with eventually. I just want to flake out for a bit – the characters in The Great Depression of the 40s have left me emotionally drained. I really should have killed a few of them!

THE GREAT DEPRESSION OF THE 40s
Rupa Gulab
Penguin India

Gulab’s sardonic wit hasn’t dissipated over time, in fact it has become more reined in with it’s well-crafted barbs. While you warm to the characters, and envision their lives in a midlife crisis, it helps you understand relationships and people as they change with time. The insecurities are all the same, the circumstances and decisions to deal with those insecurities vary. Gulab’s self-referencing – with her lead character attempting to write a novel and towards the end of the story reaching the idea of The Great Depression of the 40s – serves the purpose of reminding the readers that they are like one of the characters in some way, either pining for a bygone time, or harping for something out of their reach. If Gulab were to concentrate less on structured witticism, more on the depth of her characters, especially the male ones, the book would be eminently heart-warming, but would lack the punch that makes it inherently her own style. ‘Marriage ruthlessly strips away all pretences of common interests,’ is what Gulab has her protagonist thinking, and goes on to prove how fragile and yet how solid marriages can actually be. After all, as her characters prove, it is what we make of it.

The Present Past

27 Sunday Jun 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Art and Design, Pakistani Arts & Literature, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Nerve, June 2010

Risham Syed is an artist who understands the influence of history in contemporary life, and expresses it through her often ironic and provoking tableaux. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh explores her intent and thought

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See the full gallery on Posterous

Lahore-based Risham Syed stages provocative set pieces by juxtaposing the power of the past with symbols of contemporary Pakistani society. She paints art, historical images or even photographic images in acrylic, which is essentially plastic. Paintings are turned into objects and ‘conceptual pieces’. There is a very strong influence of power play in the mise-en-scene of installation art and the placement of objects. Domestic objects are used to talk about her experience of living in a society “which imposes certain roles on (men and) women who in turn assume these roles most of the time without challenging/questioning them. This is a take on that, but then these objects engage in a dialogue with the larger social/political picture.” She chooses objects that carry a particular historical/cultural context. For example, the white marble mantelpiece is very Victorian with Indian elements. Along with representing the family unit or the institution of it, it represents a certain class. The wall lamp pretends to be ‘Victorian’ but is a very cheap Chinese version of it. The vestiges of cultural inheritance are observed to suggest an origin and it’s very perceived authenticity.

 

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In conversation with the artist:

What inspires your works?
I collect photographs from newspapers, magazines, life around in general on a daily basis. I also collect old photographs that inherently carry a particular context with them. I am interested in history and how it connects itself with the present moment.

What draws you towards historical power play?
I connect history with the present. It is also a way of looking within and outside and I like this recurring dialogue. The way I construct this connection, I feel it remains open and every time a new narrative can appear, depending on the sequence of the connection.

Are you using space as a metaphor?
The most apparent thing is a domestic space that comes through from these constructions. It’s a metaphor for roles, personas, pretences, power play, control, etc. Domesticity is a tool that I use to connect various issues with the larger picture. You see a quiet wall lamp with a small painting under it but on close inspection the painting is of disturbance or violence. In this way within the quiet, apparently pretty domestic spaces, there is another space within the painted surface which again is a metaphor for the space outside of us which is alien yet it’s the space within us.

What does power mean to you?
The idea of power or ego is within us and it manifests itself in various dislocated channels resulting in destruction. There is power play from within the basic family unit structure of the society to the larger global picture. It’s the base of the economic structure and that becomes the driving force. It is connected with identities, images, personas, relationships and attitudes.

Influencing artists Zahoor-ul Akhlaq, Salima Hashmi, Quddus Mirza (her teachers at National College of Arts, Lahore). Indian artists like Amrita Sher Gill, Arpita Singh, Bhupen Khakar, the Warhli tribes.

Love looking at: Rembrandt, Leonardo, Vermeer, Gauguin, Van Gough, Magaritte, Joseph Cornell, Frida Kahlo, Chagall, Rothko, Rauschenburg, Richter, Peter Blake, Hockney, O’Keefe, Cartier Bresson….

Not a Word More, Not a Word Less – Jeffrey Archer

26 Saturday Jun 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Art, Literature & Culture, Interviews (All), Interviews: The Arts, Publication: Verve Magazine

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International Fiction, Interview, Jeffrey Archer, Literature, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, International Edge, June 2010

British novelist, ex-politician and former jailbird, Lord Jeffrey Archer is an absorbing conversationalist. He’s confident, patient, petulant and raring with sure-fire ambition. In Mumbai for the launch of his latest collection of short stories, And Thereby Hangs a Tale, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh comes away from the tête-à-tête duly charmed

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Jeffrey Archer explains the act of creation of dialogue, demonstrating how real-life conversation can’t be imitated exactly in fiction. “While talking you may say, ‘Can I have a cup of coffee, please?’ but you can’t put that in a book.” The ever-gracious Taj hospitality team appears bearing silverware and coffee, not knowing that Archer was merely demonstrating a point. “Is that my special?” he asks – having quite missed the force of his spoken word. They look confused. “Is that coffee?” They nod bewildered. “No, thank you, I have my special. I thought they told you all about it. No they didn’t? God bless them,” he mutters. A few minutes later, the somewhat-‘special’ turns up. They couldn’t garnish it with chocolate sauce, they murmur desperately. He takes a sip. “It’s not like Barista’s! They all try to make it like Barista, but they can’t. And who introduced me to Barista? ‘Raoool’ Dravid introduced me to it. I don’t like coffee. I like Barista’s. I don’t get it in England. I love it.” He gives it back, with an unhappy, “Thank you, very much.”

He is surprisingly energetic, he’s refreshingly ebullient and he holds the instinctive ability to inspire. At 70 years of age, he moves with the efficiency – and his voice carries the power of a 35-year-old. He speaks without platitudes and any hint of patronisation. And if you question his creative choices, he responds with effusive mock indignation.

Excerpts from a rollicking, sometimes serious conversation with the author:
(All exclamation marks and text repetitions are entirely based on the interviewee’s tone. Capitals denote elevated volume only.)

Why do you not have more female protagonists in your books – besides The Prodigal Daughter and False Impression?
The Prodigal Daughter is totally about the first woman president of the United States. Who wrote the first story about the first woman president of the United States? ME! Long before Hillary Clinton! You weren’t even born then! I’m married to a woman who runs the biggest, greatest hospital in Britain, Cambridge University. So, don’t you give me that protagonist stuff. In this one (points to his latest book) all the women are wicked. They’re nice in a lot of them, aren’t they? I’m not a women’s writer. I don’t write to please you, I write to please everyone!

And everyone is pleased by men?
Well, no. NO! The Prodigal Daughter is the story of a woman. False Impression, you’re quite right, is about a woman from beginning to end. You selfish thing, isn’t that enough for you? (Laughs uproariously.) God, women’s rights for India! Women to run India!

What happens if you don’t have a story to tell? Do you ever get stuck?
Never. NEVER! No writer’s block! Never. I know my next six stories. The next thing I’m writing is the biggest challenge in my life. I’m writing five books in a row, the story of which starts in 1920 and ends in 2020. They are called The Clifton Chronicles. The first book is dominated by a MAN called Harry Clifton. The second book is dominated by a woman called Emma. Yes!

Is there a sense of completion when your protagonists achieve that position of power – after all, that’s where the books end? What happens if they were to continue?
What you’ve said is going to happen in the next series. One will lead into another. They will all be separate books. I’m a believer in hard work and ambition and achievement – for men or women. (I can sense the aside.) I work for Margaret Thatcher – makes no difference to me. The achievement is in reaching the goal, not afterwards! You don’t want to think about retirement do you?

Do you believe that with great power comes great responsibility – for the storyteller and for the story itself?
No I don’t. I think that’s not realistic. I am a storyteller. I want you to enjoy the story. I want you to turn the page. I don’t want to leave you with any philosophical…well you can, but that’s not what I aim to do. I aim to entertain you.

Is that the difference between popular culture and literature?
NO! That’s insulting. (I’m just saying.) I know you are, but it’s insulting. That is to say you can’t be a great storyteller and write well. The literary failures of this world always try that line, because they are jealous. It was one of your great critics who told me, ‘Jeffrey, don’t worry with the sacred cows of India – read RK Narayan.’ I agree with her. Narayan is both – marvellous combination of great writer and great storyteller. There are very few Vikram Seths around. (He approves of Seth.)

So, your new collection of short stories….
(Answers with practised ease.) Fifteen short stories, nine of them true, the most exciting one for me is set in India, called Caste-off. It’s the story of two people I met in Mumbai three years ago (Nisha Jamvwal and Kanwar Rameshwar Singh Jamvwal). I think it will make a Bollywood film – it’s so romantic. I couldn’t believe it when I heard the story; it’s so remarkable that you can’t make it up.

Do you pull from real life or employ fiction?
It’s half and half. Human beings are giving stories all the time. Why bother to invent someone when I can just write you? It’s so easy. I look at people and I remember details very well. If I get a good story, I write one line that reminds me of it. I always keep notes. Normally everything is all up there. (Referring to his deeply lined forehead.) If you are working the whole time – and I’m always working – memory gets constantly tested. Your memory only gets lazy if you’re lazy.

What does power mean to you?
Power?! Power. (Makes it sound like ‘paar’.) It has many meanings. But sometimes, a writer has power without realising it because people will write to me and say, ‘Your book has changed my life,’ or ‘something you wrote has changed me as a person’. Which one hopes is power for good – for instance young Indians learning to believe in hard work to achieve what they want.

Your stories give people the drive to keep going, to succeed….
Nowadays, people want it tomorrow…not 20 years down the line. A girl came up to me at a restaurant and said, ‘I want to be famous.’ I asked her if she played the violin, sang a song or wrote a book…and she shook her head. She said, ‘You don’t understand me, I want to be famous.’ She didn’t want to do the work. You have to do the work. Now I’m more demanding all the time, on myself.

Does success increase the pressure to deliver?
I always had a story so I never felt pressure. The problem was making sure I worked hard enough. I’m working harder now than ever. People ask me silly questions like ‘Do you write all your books?’ But you would know straight away, wouldn’t you? You’d say, ‘Jeffrey! You didn’t write that!’ I always say to people, my readers would know – they know my tricks. Which makes it harder for me, because my fans are sitting there and saying, ‘Where’s the twist, Jeffrey? What’re you gonna do, Jeffrey? I’ve got my eye on you!’ It’s still a challenge to fool you, to get you to the last line and make you go ‘Aaeee!’ That’s the trick.

Few writers can handle short stories and sagas with equal aplomb….
The thing about short stories is that they are stories. A lot of people who write short stories are actually writing ‘looks at life’ or incidents. I tell stories. They have a beginning, middle and an end. I don’t want to write about the ‘movement in the room, made one feel luminous, as the girl walked toward me, I realised….’ Oh balls. Give me a STORY!

So you’re going strong.
Eh? FOREVER!

Love the spirit. Word.

Trendsetting Strokes

26 Wednesday May 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Fashion & Style, Interviews (All), Interviews: Lifestyle, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Art and Design, Designers, Fashion, Gaurav Gupta, Interview, Satya Paul, Style, vervemagazine, Wendell Rodricks

Published: Verve Magazine, Nerve, May 2010

The connection between fashion and art is an old one; international trends can be written in no less than multiple coffee-table books. Verve speaks to four top Indian fashion designers who show obvious influences of art in their designs

WENDELL RODRICKS

Wendell

 

On the connect “There has always been a connection between art and fashion. Chanel loved Cubism. Schiaparelli loved Surrealism. And Yves Saint Laurent paid tribute to many artists: Braque, Picasso, Mondrian. Art and fashion are both provocative and often intrigue the general public.”

In my designs “I have used art as an influence not just from the Western world but also from an Asian perspective. I have collaborated with Goan artist Theodore Mesquitta; and did an installation for Habitat Centre (Alka Pande). In fact, I know one day I will paint.”

Fashion as a work of art “Fashion is at the lowest rung of the pure art ladder. Our clothes certainly are a form of art. To elevate them to pure art though is being overly ambitious. Fashion can become art in the hands of Alexander McQueen or Hussain Chalayan who look at clothing and shows as art to begin with. But in most cases, fashion is not art.”

SATYA PAUL

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On the connect “Anything in life has two possibilities – either you can use it to raise or lower the bar. What matters is how one takes it. Fashion is itself an art form, a medium to be used to create amazing art. Broadly seen, it is a confluence of colour, texture and form (by way of weaving, embroidery, printing, and cutting/pattern making). The importance of the two is akin to asking ‘…the importance of oxygen to life?’”

In my designs “Art is anything done with heart! In that vein we have made numerous collections over the years where art of different artists, and movements of art is the basis. Recently, Chola period brozes and Pop art have been referenced in our collections. In addition, we have explored and developed a new visual language.

GAURAV GUPTA

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On the connect “Sure there is: fashion is simply commercial art.”

In my designs “I’ve always been inspired by art. Think architecture by Gaudi, movements like Surrealism, Dadaism, the art nouveau and art deco realisations. While it is nothing obvious and direct, there is a subconscious connect. Recently, I collaborated with artist Akshay Singh Rathore, taking off from his light-box installations. We’ve independently been working towards similar things – a more landscape-like feeling. Tartan checks can be rigid; with this concept, they became more fluid, draping well.”

Fashion as a work of art “Some of them are! Designs are sculpted around a body. Sculptures have a mood; and in fabric draping, construction and moulding, it is like working with clay. One of my saris for instance was displayed at the Portugal Biennale (an international art exhibition) late last year.”

POONAM BHAGAT

Poonam02

On the connect “Art and fashion are both intertwined. Both are highly creative fields. One uses a canvas with brush strokes or mixed media while the other uses fabrics and threads on cloth. The difference is, the latter is turned into a structured garment while the former is flat with sometimes a 3D effect. Artists have even started incorporating materials available to fashion designers in their art.”

In my designs “My spring summer 2010 collection was inspired by the works of world renowned Spanish artist Joan Miró, who was known for his very vibrant, childlike paintings and use of primary colours. I borrowed elements from his art and gave them my own TAIKA twist using vibrant appliqués and embroidery on ivory linens and cotton-silks. The recently concluded WIFW AW 10 showcased my collection inspired by abstract expressionism, a modern American art movement which took wing post World War II in the late ’40s and flourished till the early 1960s, putting New York on the global art map for the very first time.”

Designer in an art show “For me art speaks; so does fashion. The first ever group art show I participated in was organised by Polka Art Gallery at The Visual Arts Centre, New Delhi in August 2007. It was a showing of extremely eminent artists. I was the only fashion designer and the only one to create tapestries on fabric with embroideries.”

Designs as works of art “My designs are just fashion statements, to be worn and enjoyed. Not to be treasured!”

Abhay Deol: An Uncommon Man

19 Friday Mar 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Interviews (All), Interviews: Cinema, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Abhay Deol, Aisha, Bollywood, devd, indiancinema, Interview, movies, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, March 2010
Photographs: Harsh Man Rai and Tina Dehal

You may choose to like or dislike his choices, but you can’t ignore him. A string (think ten) of unusual movies later, Abhay Deol, who turns 34 this month, has found sure footing in Hindi cinema with unexpected acceptance from the audience and grudging respect from the industry. He inspires deeply opposing reactions, but that doesn’t bother him in the least. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh discovers the man behind the actor

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I had a premonition about that Saturday, but I didn’t anticipate that meeting the hottest Deol in town would involve a star-crossed sequence of errors. Lost in Aram Nagar Colony, in the innards of distant Versova, trying to navigate around bungalows that had no order or system, unable to get the girl answering the phone to give me usable directions, I reached harried – unforgivably – three minutes late, only to find him busy in a conference with director Navdeep Singh for his first home production, Basra.

 

Apparently, while trying to get his own production house rolling, he’d forgotten about our interview. Looking rather bemused, he started talking rapidly…for nine minutes, and then requested a five-minute time-out while he finished some critical Basra-related work. Meanwhile, I tapped my nails on the wooden table, back firmly facing the curious eyes in the production house, checking out posters of Dharmendra’s films that populated the walls and watched the minutes become the better part of an hour confirming that I would miss my friend’s wedding in the bargain. After being at the receiving end of a couple of sardonic comments about time and responding with rather genuine profuse apologies (yes, I believe him), he emerged to give me a full, uninterrupted 40 minutes of quality time. Am I surprised that at the end of it all it was a great interview?

 

Of course, the dark clouds that loomed hadn’t begun to pour yet. I got back home only to discover to my intense horror that only the first nine minutes had saved on my voice recorder – all else had, by some inexplicable black magic, vanished. The curious dead cat had got my tongue and made me roast in hell. Munching vigorously on humble pie, I returned to the now-familiar Aram Nagar Colony a few tense days later on another professional rendezvous with the refreshingly easy-going actor-turned-producer. This time around, he didn’t keep me waiting and my recorder behaved itself. We ate some bitter chocolate to thaw the ice in the air.

 

Curiosity killed the proverbial cat and made Abhay Deol famous. It took a while, but now everyone wants a piece of this man who doesn’t fail to arouse interest. He’s not a misfit in the sense that he’s an abnormality; au contraire, when you meet him, he’s pleasantly normal. It’s his choices that have made for fevered coffee-table speculation, and the fact that you always wonder what new oddity this unconventional Deol will roll out. He’s been called that so many times, it’s almost a cliché. Maybe that’s why the lanky actor, who always prefers to keep a surprise up his rather hairy arm, has chosen to do a movie that seems so incredibly mainstream. The upcoming Aisha, loosely based on Jane Austen’s Emma, co-starring Sonam Kapoor and produced by Anil Kapoor, is worth watching, if only to understand why someone like Deol would star in it. A perfectly normal romance, there is no angst, no odd-ball character, no debauchery; nothing really that makes it something he would ideally gravitate towards.

 

It makes you suspicious, wondering if all along, these strange choices – a superhuman character in Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Ltd (2007), a lovable thief in Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye (2008), a contemporary Devdas in Dev.D (2009), a failed writer and middle-class government engineer caught in a web of deceit in noir film Manorama Six Feet Under (2007) – were all an act, until he found a director and producer willing to cast him into the ‘safe’ and common mould. Deol looks unabashed, as if you would be ridiculous to question his choices, firmly crediting script over banner, any day. His other release this year, Dev Benegal’s Road, Movie (an Indo-American production which has already got rave reviews on the international circuit) about the experiences of a guy driving his truck through a desert, makes this statement a fact. Deol happens to be a part of Road, Movie merely because Benegal was willing to wait to accommodate the former’s busy schedule – it is a twist in the actor’s fateful tale. Now, where Deol goes, the banners and author-backed roles follow.

 

Dharmendra’s nephew has had to live with being told, rather matter-of-factly, that his movies don’t stand a chance. But patience, grim determination and a slow pace of success later, when people started to (albeit grudgingly) accept him as a bankable star and the industry began looking up to him as a leader in experimentation, you find that Deol can’t help but be a little smug. Success breeds confidence, and he admits that being on the other side of the bargaining table, seeing the way the chips have fallen has given him the right to be self-assured – to talk with the knowledge that people are itching to hear him (he was a speaker at the prestigious TEDIndia – Technology, Entertainment, Design – international conference last year); and to walk with a sense of renewed purpose. And a part of that purpose is being a catalyst for change. “You need to take the few early steps – paving the road for others to drive upon. And more importantly, I have to do things that appeal to me as an artiste/ actor, that’s where the honesty will come from. The audience will follow – after all, people always gravitate towards those who are sure of themselves, and those who do things with integrity.”

 

While he may claim an avid fan following, there are those who have not seen his films, and therefore have not really come to recognise him as an actor of repute. Road, Movie, for instance, is a film that he admits can go either way with the audience. “It is a step in an unexplored direction and I don’t know how people will react – the foreign audiences have really appreciated it, but will it be a film that appeals universally? I don’t know. With a good release, though, it stands a chance.” At the same time, he is not comfortable with the idea that his films – and therefore he – may appeal to a niche, intellectual audience. “I have never looked upon an audience – particularly the Indian audience – as being dumb or looking for escapism. I consider my audience to be smarter than I am. If I didn’t, I would be taking my audience for granted. Whether realistic or not, it keeps me on my toes, and raises the bar for me personally.”

 

Talking about being realistic, you can’t see this Deol raging on screen, warding off goons and doing a merry jig around trees (though Honeymoon… proved that the boy has magic in his tangoing feet). Subtlety, not melodrama is his artistic choice. Where at one time, cousin Sunny Deol’s angry histrionics may have held the day, today, the multiplex audience is more forgiving towards actors who believe in the power of nuanced performances. In real life Abhay Deol is a casual and prolific talker, but his on-screen characters tend to emote with expressions rather than voice: minor inflections are expressively reflected on camera. “I prefer to use facial expressions when I am acting. There are actors who will want more dialogues simply so that they can have longer screen time. I tend to cut my own dialogues – if something can be said in one line, why do you need five? Our face and expressions are magnified on the big screen, so less is always more.”

 

‘Beta engineer banega’ is what most Indian parents would think and that’s exactly what Deol’s parents hoped for. Growing up in the same house as legendary star Dharmendra and his sons Sunny and Bobby Deol, the younger Deol came into his own on stage in Jamnabai Narsee School, as early as age five, but remained ambivalent about his future as an actor. “My family wanted me to do whatever I wanted and give it my 100 per cent, though they would have liked it if I became a doctor or a scientist. Growing up in the ’80s, it was like that. The kids in school would make fun of me, because I came from a family of actors. When people around me proclaimed, ‘He’ll be a good actor,’ I would find it deeply offensive, thinking, ‘How do you know that; how do you know I may not have other interests?’ I hid the fact that I wanted to act. I used to be good at drawing…I thought I would take up graphic design.” It seems that for longer than should be necessary, Deol has been fighting being moulded according to people’s expectations, even if those expectations were a part of his own dream.

 

What the kid that refused to conform actually did was study theatre in Los Angeles, USA, and contrary to expectations, it wasn’t an easy road into movies. “Initially, I wanted to work with everybody, to do that commercial film so that I would get the money to do a non-commercial film. I hate those labels – ‘commercial’, ‘non-commercial’. But it conveys the message. Nobody wanted to take a chance on me because I was a flop actor. And, before Socha Na Tha (2005, Deol’s debut film directed by Imtiaz Ali), there was no interest in me either.” Despite dogged determination and a good show of bravado, Deol’s chosen path came with its own share of insecurities. “You want to navigate the system, you need support. You don’t want to end up as someone on the periphery. I decided then that whether hit or miss, I would let my work and its consistency speak for itself. You can only be insecure if you have something to hide or if you doubt yourself. I’m pretty truthful and honest, so my insecurities kept going out of the door. Those that remained were about my career as a whole, because it is a bigger entity.”

 

Forbidden Films (it’s hard to miss the defiant air in the choice of name) is a production house that he started after the painful realisation that many of his films failed because of bad marketing. “There has been a struggle working with first-time producers and smaller film-makers – it’s difficult because even while making the film, money runs out. And when it comes to releasing the film, there’s no money left for marketing. Then, the producer lacks the clout to distribute it well. That works against a good product and it kept happening to me. For instance, Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye and Dev.D, backed by UTV, fared better than Shemaroo which didn’t manage to successfully market Manorama Six Feet Under. These are lessons I have learnt.” He believes that none of the Indian film producers – whatever they may claim – really know how to market a film internationally. And therein lies a huge untapped audience. “Starting my own production house was merely to give films, directors and stories that I believe in a chance to survive. I don’t plan to star in all the films I produce – but I am acting in the first one, Basra. Production is a lot of work, and being new to it, it’s a learning process.” And this coming after shooting three films back-to-back (Oye Lucky…, Dev.D, Road, Movie), which got this avid traveller (who prefers luxurious European jaunts to backpacking trips) so burnt out that he had to take a few therapeutic months off to do a welding and metal-work course in New York.

 

He has chosen wisely to not be bothered by what others think or how they define him, particularly by the recent incident reported about him being at loggerheads with the Aisha producers on being dissatisfied with his role. “Almost everything that is reported is a?rumour or not true, though I’m not saying everything is false. I’m private about my life…and there are times when I say what comes to my mind, in a particularly casual fashion, which gives my words the leeway to be twisted.” With a sheepish grin he remarks, “And sarcasm doesn’t work really well with the media.” Like others before him, Deol has fallen prey to people’s opinions based on the quirky characters he has played, his oddball choices and industry buzz. “I do feel that I am misunderstood as a person. There are things I have heard about myself…it all comes back to you. People think that the stars don’t know, but they know about these rumours. You are in the public eye, working with different people, a lot of times you could be the one being difficult and it’s there for all to see, and other times you could be justified in what you say, but people will still feel that you are being difficult, because of all that’s perceived of you and because you are in such a position of power.”

 

Or the times when there are determined probes into this highly eligible bachelor’s love life. With no real face to attach to the girl(s) on his arm, Deol inconveniently finds himself linked up to anybody he works with or has been seen talking to. Professional hazard it may be, but he’s often in the incongruous state of being too honest and too private all at once. “Once while in New York, I made the mistake of saying, ‘I’m dating a few girls, it’s not like I don’t have a social life,’ and that got blown totally out of context! In New York it is natural to date casually; while in India I naturally tend to get more protective, I don’t want to have to answer to anybody…questions like: ‘How did you meet, how’s it going, are you serious, are you getting married?’ I mean, who are you to ask me that? Why should I answer? And tomorrow if the two of us are not together, they will write about what might have gone wrong. Sometimes your personal life takes a beating when your professional life starts to go down; then they judge you, and judge your partner for leaving you.”

 

And so the ‘ladies’ man’ tag has found itself surely attached to his broad shoulders. His voice escalates in volume just enough to suggest that this is a touchy topic (no pun intended). “If you call me a ladies’ man, then, on one level yes, there’s nothing wrong with flirting. I like the opposite sex, I always go out of my way to charm someone and talk to someone; but at the same time, I’m not one to sleep around! I’m not looking to settle down right now, but I’m also not someone who will sleep with anything in a skirt! For me, more than a relationship, companionship is very important. In our day and age, it is much harder to be in a committed relationship for very long.” Experience talks, having battled work pressures simultaneously with relationships, leading him to conclude that it’s one or the other at this stage in his life. “Right now, I’ve barely got my foot in the door – I’m not even settled in right now. So I’ve had two successes behind me, big deal! Two more flops and I will be in the same position I was in two years ago. It’s not like I have cemented myself in this industry – that won’t happen for a very long time – but at least for the next couple of years I need to put in the energy and get close to having, if not my toe, then perhaps, half my body in the door. Then I’ll be happy and take a break. I understand that it is important for me to have a life outside of work….”

 

He may be playing the field, but he isn’t riding the high horse of fame to charm a girl. Meeting him, you understand he doesn’t need to. He’s not anything like the dark heroes he plays; he’s not the Dev folly. “I am a positive person, happy in my personal life, and I’m not very competitive. I tend to gravitate towards those girls that don’t give me any extra attention just because I’m famous. For example, there was one who wasn’t very polite to me because she assumed that I would have star-like airs, but over the course of a few meetings, she opened up to me, when she realised that I’m just a normal guy. And immediately, I was attracted to her because she valued the right things. Of course, there is a lot of attention because you are famous….”

 

One would imagine that living with a handful of movie-star Deols would have got him used to fame. “It’s true, I’ve grown up with that and I’m wise to it. I think that’s why I did my own thing when I started out. The fame bit is important to me simply because it helps me get the money to make the movies I want to make. Beyond that, it doesn’t define who I am. And I won’t ever let that happen. It’s not about getting the launch or a platform or a silver spoon up your butt or whatever; it’s really not being taken in by fame and glamour, because once you get taken in, it comes and it goes, it is not permanent. The only thing permanent that you have is the work you have left behind.”

 

Maybe we are quick to judge people who are not of the common grain. Someone who has chosen – more accurately written – his own path, who one would imagine to be opinionated and as stubborn as a mule, is actually quite reasonable about his opinions. “One of my philosophies is that I know that I don’t know. I’m entitled to my opinions, but am not rigid about them to the extent that you can’t convince me otherwise. You have to accept that you can make mistakes; sometimes you can become so subjective that the objectivity is gone. I need someone to turn around and give me a slap across my face! I respect that, as long as it is justified.”

 

And being open to other people’s opinions is having respect for individuality. This gets him steaming. “We are constantly told, don’t do this, do that instead. It is crazy. I totally believe if you have faith in your artist, if he/she has already delivered, give them a chance. The one thing we lack in our industry is individuality. Which is why all the films, actors, actresses look the same! Because they are all aiming for the same thing – who can dance better, who can fight better. That is why we have more flops than hits. It still baffles me how people see formula and depend so much on it. There is a formula, for sure there is. But the ones who break tradition, get famous.”

 

He finally leans back – barely having paused for a breath – and you feel like you have travelled the long, rough road to the beginning of success with him. Only you haven’t. “I’m happy, but just because you are happy doesn’t mean you stop. You can be greedy and want more.” There is a deep throaty chuckle, Kevin Spacey-like dimples flashing, reminding you that despite having reason to, he doesn’t smile enough. “I want to go the distance in making a movie that has universal appeal. I want to communicate to the world, not just to India and Indians. It’s not just about boy meets girl, it’s not just about comedy; there’s also global warming, genocide, political assassinations, social workers, adoption….”

 

It’s also about microcosms that have macrocosmic appeal. “While I’m a Mumbai kid, I understand village mentality because my family is essentially from the Pind, in Punjab. I’ve been brought up with a certain set of traditional values and culture, and I want to have my own take on Indian culture. There’s a huge gap…and film is the medium you can bridge it with!” Lucky Singh (Oye Lucky…) and Dev (Dev.D) were two such curious characters rooted in North India, with a nation-wide appeal. “With Dev.D I knew I could take a classic novel, which even my grandfather knows, contemporise it, and have it appeal to a 16-year-old today. It’s the same thing that Sarat Chandra Chatterjee was trying to say in 1917, that kids today are trying to tell their parents. Why are they rebelling? Why are they obsessing? While Chatterjee didn’t like his own work, and I cannot identify with Devdas, it does have universal appeal.”

 

With the same angst of a person struggling to find his rightful place in the world and triumphing in the end, he is more like Satyaveer Randhawa in Manorama… than any of the characters he’s played. Yet, he gravitates towards all his roles, albeit unconsciously, because they share a common strain – a debauched spirit that masks a principled person. The principles can shift from determination to fixation with a thought, the debauchery can be rakishness or trivialisation of a socially accepted moral code – but they entwine into the personality of a person who simply goes with what he believes is right.

 

This is what makes his characters likeable despite their flaws, and this is what makes Deol interesting. Lucky Singh’s sincere eyes belie his actions, the deeply dimpled smile is innocently impish – and you feel that there is a possibility of redemption – in fact it should be no other way. Taller than you’d imagine at six-feet-and-one-inch, and skinnier than you’d expect, clad in pale blue denim and a casual tee, the Darcy-like personality leaves you with the same impression. “Is he as hot in real life?” asks a friend. He may not be your average candyfloss poster boy, but you would be foolish to ignore him. Self-assured, flippant and with an unintentional air of cavalier disarray, the actor is a ‘project’ – someone a girl would automatically get attracted towards, to ‘fix’. And that is just dangerous territory, because as defined by his sometimes wayward, often laid-back attitude, Deol is essentially a free spirit. Dressed (defiantly?) casual at a glittering fashion soirée, he is equally at ease being his own companion, as he is exchanging pleasantries with the best looking girl there. He can be perfectly charming, should he choose to do so and that would be within the constraints of what he defines to be a laid-back friendship or relationship. He would revolt against shackles of any kind, expectations, demands and a desire to be moulded into someone who conforms. And yet, he believes, “commitment-phobic” is not the appropriate term for him. “It’s just that I am not at that place right now,” he explains earnestly. This Deol isn’t misunderstood; he’s just waiting to be understood. At the right time and place in his life.

 

Baz Luhrmann: Amplifying Emotion

19 Friday Mar 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Interviews (All), Interviews: Cinema, Publication: Verve Magazine

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Australia, Baz Luhrmann, Hollywood, India, Interview, movies, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, International Edge, March 2010
Photographs: Aparna Jayakumar

Award-winning Australian director of films Moulin Rouge!, Romeo + Juliet and Australia, Baz Luhrmann arrived in India expecting a “creative adventure”. In the midst of dipping his fingers into paint, warding off curious eyes, responding to over-enthusiastic banter and driving a bike through Rajasthan taking photos, Sitanshi Talati-Parikh gets an insight into his artistic mantra

 

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An elderly Indian gentleman (probably inebriated) asks Baz Luhrmann at a recent art soirée, about the size of his pants. Luhrmann replies politely and retreats to probably punch the wall or take a deep breath. He has, in the correct manner of famous people especially of international origin, been generously accosted. His voice is scratchy from replying to the same – or inane – questions, his face is showing more lines than it should from smiling politely to profusely talking strangers, and he is undeniably tired. It is not surprising then, that he chooses a late start, armed with coffee, the morning of our meeting. “Not all of it is joy,” the veteran director admits, “Some of it is overwhelming. But something keeps telling me to ‘surrender’ and be in the moment.” An agreeable disposition and genial self-deprecating humour on his surprisingly slight frame make him a very real person who likes making larger-than-life movies that tend to hit the spot.

It is a creative visionary’s brush that picks up on the nuances of life, emotions and true-to-life characters with a flourish to create the ‘big’ film – full of flavour, drama, vibrant colours and melody – whether it is the garish realism of Romeo + Juliet (1996), the Parisian kitsch of Moulin Rouge! (2001), or the ochre-hued drama of Australia (2008). “It is amplification. You take realistic human emotions, realities or problems but you use an expressionistic canvas.” And this is what led to what is popularly known as Luhrmann’s Red Curtain Trilogy (Strictly Ballroom (1992), Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge!) – the concept of an “overtly theatrical musical work”.

 

Australia announced a departure from Sydney-born Luhrmann’s previous musical format and moved towards a more sweeping epic form. “There is no way that Australia is of the then-current naturalistic vernacular. It is heightened, much like Gone With The Wind is heightened. Instead of music, I tried using landscape to amplify emotion. It is operatic in that sense. Naturalism is like looking through a keyhole and you are apparently looking at reality; but this form is where words fail us – sometimes we just can’t express in words what it is like to truly be exalted or truly be in love or truly lose your child over a cliff.” Instantly, in the mind’s eye appears the stunning visual of the herd of cattle racing towards the brink of a cliff pounding a dust storm. “What may seem to us to be a small event, to a person in the village, it is operatic at that point of time. ‘You-can’t-marry-that-boy-moment’ internally feels like Tosca. As an artist you want to use devices to help the audience empathise. And that doesn’t mean just reproducing the way it apparently is. I try not to show the way things are, rather the way things would have felt for the character.”

 

The once-aspiring actor has often given credit to Hindi cinema for influencing his cinema. “India has always been an extraordinary serum for my soul. Fifteen years ago – it is quite serendipitous – I made a production of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1993) set in colonial India. I was really fascinated by the connection between the Elizabethan spiritual world and the Hindu spiritual world. The production is very distinctly making those visual translations in the time of the Raj – the lovers are all European Raj characters and the Hindu spiritual world plays with them.” It went on to be a hugely successful show, winning the Critic’s Prize at the Edinburgh Festival. He recalls the defining moment being his visit to India at the time, with his award-winning production-designer wife, Catherine Martin, where in Rajasthan, they saw their very first Bollywood movie. Unable to remember the title or the cast – except that it was about two brothers going to Oxford University, and fighting over the same girl – Luhrmann found it remarkable that there was, “intense tragedy, next to very broad comedy and then a burst of song. Two thousand people were spellbound, including us who couldn’t speak the language, for three hours. What we got out of that was the value of exaltation. In that sense Bollywood films are Shakespearean. Different people can have different experiences at different levels. That sensibility became the Red Curtain Trilogy and has stayed with me ever since.”

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Characters and sensitivity to their emotions is a trait that can be traced back to his youth working at a gas station observing people. At 47, he admits, “I’m addicted to people. And, it’s shocking, but I’m just getting started. I haven’t begun to meet all the people and haven’t begun to make all the movies. Maybe one day I’ll make a really good film, won’t that be good?!” There’s a light chuckle. “People are derided for it…being enthusiastic is uncool, so I would think, be as uncool as you possibly can. There is nothing sadder than getting to a certain age and sleepwalking through life, marking time until the curtain falls. I don’t want to surround myself with that energy.”

 

His own vigour (despite the weariness) is paramount, and you would expect him to have enthralled us with more work than he has. He has a bunch of projects lined up, including that of a cinematic production of The Great Gatsby. “There is no such thing for me as lying on a beach and saying, ‘The cocktail’s good!’ Creativity has always instinctively been for me the pursuit of a rich and extraordinary life, out of which creativity grows, as opposed to the pursuit of a successful career. I did that, and all of the Red Curtain came out of the instinctive urge. It has to be personal to begin with. For instance, I love Paris and Bohemia, hence Moulin Rouge!” The first Harry Potter film was offered to him: recalling that, he mutters, ‘Idiot!’ and smacks his forehead in mock disapproval at missing out. “That might have been a brilliant career choice once, but the work I do comes out of my life’s journey. Recently, I lost sight of that. So between films I’m doing things just like this.”

 

And this is exactly where we are. At the newly-opened Le Sutra art concept hotel, Bandra, Mumbai, that has a mural painted by Luhrmann and Australian artist Vincent Fantauzzo. Appalled by the recent negativity in Australia that he’s afraid will mar the formative years of Indian students, Luhrmann decided to partake of this “creative adventure” to use the artistic medium to speak out in a way that politicians cannot. “It is a genuine leading experiential artwork, what we used to call in the old days, ‘a happening’ and a platform to express the positivity to counter the negativity. As old as India is, it is young again. It is youthful, it’s finding new creativity – Australia connects with India on that level. Without getting too clever or complicated, it was adventurous for us, but also symbolically and creatively a positive gesture. So far it has been intense, and it hasn’t let us down.”

 

Whether it is playing himself on an American TV show, directing a ballet, painting a wall or making a film, Luhrmann has never been judgemental about ‘high’ and ‘low’ art. “It is just expression…the adventure in pursuing it and the personal gain in your internal journey. What does it do for you?” While painting the mural – quipping that he merely held the can of paint – he finds that he has, “received the invisible lesson – one that you don’t know where to look for.” Accustomed to a zillion people following his directives, he suddenly found himself floundering with the language barrier, helping young children paint the embroidery on the mural. “There aren’t 15 people here to say ‘Yes Boss!’ I was reminded what directing is – to know what you want and engage people and help them release their fear, be the very best they can be.”

 

Mark Anthony Luhrmann, “a tiny kid with an Afro”, was very young when he ran away from his father, whom he describes as a “loving disciplinarian”. The long, “crazy” hair, left Luhrmann with the derisive nickname ‘Baz’, which he decided to defiantly hold on to, particularly after it was used affectionately by his father, a little before he died. His brand, Bazmark, has a crest with a motto, ‘A life lived in fear is a life half lived’. It defines the way Luhrmann thinks – against a formula that’s any but his own and one that is constantly being redefined by life’s experiences. “As you become successful in any way, little switches have turned where you increasingly become disconnected with yourself and you think you’re doing stuff, but you are not. It’s harder to not be your brand. You get tired…of stepping outside your comfort zone. Being here is awesome, but it’s not like I’m 25 and haven’t gone to India before and it’s not like stuff isn’t thrown at us. But the effort, already, has given me hundred-fold back. I could leave today and know that I have been woken up in a way that I wouldn’t have had I not stepped outside my comfort zone. You tend to regret not finding out.”

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