What’s Wrong With Anjaana Anjaani?

21 Thursday Oct 2010

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Musings

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Abbas Tyrewala, Anjaana Anjaani, Bollywood, indiancinema, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, priyankachopra, Ranbir Kapoor, Reviews, Thoughts

I had great expectations from Anjaana Anjaani – based on the phenomenal music and energy during the promos and videos. With the reviews sounding disappointing, I still went to watch it out of sheer curiosity and I came back wondering what it is that Indian film audiences want in a movie. Agreed, the premise of the movie was about suicide, but there are hardly any dark elements in the film, except for when PC actually tries to kill herself, and is nearly successful. The film technically is slick – good camera work, nice styling and locales, power-packed performance from Priyanka Chopra (PC) and a very credible performance from Ranbir Kapoor, who one has to admit, can definitely act. He lived the role, though possibly with less zest than PC simply because of the nature of their onscreen characters. The dialogues are good for most part, some even quite crisp, and the story at least has a different premise, which is more than what we can say for the other generic love stories being made lately. In fact, it’s grim premise has genuine resonance with a contemporary youth – they tend to go into depths over love or money, and finding meaning in their lives becomes a lost cause. And finding that meaning when living out what they believe are their last days, with the person they least expect to, is existential in it’s execution. Were this to have been a Hollywood film, the same multiplex audience would have probably accepted it as a different kind of chick-flick and watched it. In Indian cinema, it is rejected in concept. There were parts that were slow and dragged, but that can be expected from any film. Overall though, I thought it worked – more than many of the big-banner love stories of this year – and yet it fared under expectations. I’m truly at a loss to figure out what it is that people found lacking in the film, especially when people go to watch movies like Housefull and Golmaal etc. I believe the Indian audiences demand sheer drama in romance, or mindless humour. Actually, it still remains a mystery to see why certain films work and others don’t. I’m curious to see the fate of Jhootha Hi Sahi – Abbas Tyrewala’s next, after Jaane Tu…Ya Jaane Na, which I felt was a small big film. A simple premise, filled with so much promise and character. Easily a film watchable multiple times, particularly because of the freshness of the casting and the sharp editing. Does Abbas manage it again, without Aamir?

Imran Khan: The Quiet Romantic

19 Friday Feb 2010

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

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Avantika Malik, Bollywood, Bushido, I Hate Luv Storys, imrankhan, indiancinema, Interview, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, Marriage, romance, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Verve Men, February 2010
Photograph by: Colston Julian

Recently, Imran Khan got engaged to Avantika Malik after a seven-year relationship. The poster boy of romantic cinema, in his upcoming film I Hate Luv Storys, produced by Karan Johar, plays a true-to-life character that is completely unromantic. On a set of the film, staying in reel and real avatar, the young actor talks candidly to Sitanshi Talati-Parikh about relationships past and present, the insecurities and trials, and the importance of chivalry…peppered with intermittent reflections on what he thinks (or doesn’t think) about romance demonstrated by funny pie charts, graphs and comic strips that he has saved on his laptop

I’m honestly the least romantic person you can find, really. By conventional definitions, and by my fiancée’s definition, that is. But if she’s lasted out this long, clearly she sees something in me!

It’s not that I don’t like romance…I just don’t think it’s feasible. When you are wooing someone, you put on your game face – bathe regularly, cut your nails, take her to fancy places, buy her flowers…all of the drama. It’s a mating dance…but rather short-lived. As time goes on, how you feel about each other as people, how you treat each other as people, will determine whether your relationship will last.

And yet, I’m big on the proper proposals. I proposed to Avantika a month after we met, asking her if she would be my girlfriend – lighting her room with candles – the works. Somewhere in me, there is a classical streak – I was brought up with values of chivalry. You have to do it the right way – go down on one knee…it just doesn’t work otherwise.

You do some things because you know that they are important to someone. I’ve been working on my last four birthdays, because I couldn’t care less. To Avantika, a birthday is really important – the excitement starts to build a month-and-a-half in advance. So, I put in an effort to make a big deal about her birthday. The diamond engagement ring, the surprise proposal – while I know it’s something created as a marketing concept by the diamond company, De Beers – I knew it would mean something to Avantika, it would make her happy, so I did the whole deal. I planned the surprise proposal on her birthday (last July) at her farmhouse with a bunch of friends, complete with a red herring to throw her off course. And then, as I pulled out the ring, while going down on one knee…the expression on her face was priceless.

Avantika would want me to be more expressive. When you are in a relationship with someone for an extended period of time, you tend to take on characteristics of the other person. She’s taken on my characteristics, I know – and I have done the same. She’s calmed down a lot. All her emotions are just below the surface, and sometimes on the surface. At a moment’s notice she will erupt with love or anger or violence. My anger is more frigid – the angrier I am, the calmer I get and the softer my voice gets. It’s very brutal and it really shrivels people up. When I’m livid, it takes two sentences to bring the other person to the brink of tears. But it takes something monumental to get me angry.

I have never been jealous – particularly in this relationship with Avantika. Even right in the beginning, it never occurred to me that at any point, if she is somewhere without me, something would happen with another guy. If you’ve been messed with a few times in life, you would imagine it should, but it didn’t. I’ve cheated on one girl in my life and broke up with her the next day – couldn’t deal with the guilt. More often than not, I’ve got the raw end of the deal; it took me a very long time to get over it. There was a grand break-up, followed by extremely short-term relationships – measurable in hours – and in the aftermath of that, I met Avantika.

I had not the slightest clue when I entered the relationship that it would be for keeps. I was 19. What do you think at the time? ‘Pretty girl, I am interested in her and she in me; let’s just see how it goes.’ It started off without any specific intentions and just coasted along. It speaks for itself that we are still in it.

I think the wisdom is false that in this industry it is an advantage to be thought of as single. If you are in a committed relationship and honest about it, people respect you that much more. Emotionally, they like you more, it makes them think, ‘This is a good guy, an honest guy.’ There are enough people out there who think all Bollywood relationships are a sham. And some of them are. Avantika believes that if she were in this ‘circus’ with anyone else, it wouldn’t have lasted.

Avantika isn’t insecure, but there’s something else…. She doesn’t worry that I might get attracted to an actress or model. What I think bothers her is the fact that people talk to her because she’s my fiancée, and if she were not, they wouldn’t even look at her; or there are others who just look through her. There is a tendency in these circles to talk to people without having things in common, because you are a part of the same fraternity – and anyone not in that immediate circle gets left out.

We’ve been through two major trials recently – the first when we started shooting Jaane Tu…Ya Jaane Na. It involved people who had nothing to do with her life. Generally, your friends are common, but suddenly I’m spending days and nights with people whom she has never seen. That was a very difficult time – she had to come to terms with the fact that I suddenly had less time to spend with her. And the next was when Jaane Tu…had just released – suddenly I became famous and the whole world wanted a piece of me.

I’ve lived my life believing that you decide who you want to be and you can be that person. You look back, learn and move on. I don’t have any regrets about my current or past relationships. If I had done something differently with Avantika, perhaps we wouldn’t be here today. Things wouldn’t be the same.

If I fall prey to the ugliness that is a part of the underbelly of this industry, it won’t be because I am a part of this industry – it would be for the reason that any man in any job would…which is that he is done with the relationship. It certainly won’t be because I get tempted by some girl who thinks, ‘I want to sleep with an actor.’

The rumours that tabloids pick on for sensationalism can so easily sully a clean relationship. It happened to me once – and because of all the drama, all the sudden awkwardness, it has soured some friendships.

I don’t want to be in a position where I give Avantika any cause for discomfort. If I had to choose to cut a person out of my life to give Avantika that security, I would do it – I did it. The very fact that I have done this, and the fact that I have acknowledged her as my girlfriend from the beginning, gives her that kind of security. I don’t know whether she would expect this of me in the future, or as a result of my having done this, her faith in me would be stronger and I would not need to do something like that again.

I live my life by a very strict code of conduct – I believe that I must behave in a certain way, be a certain way. Everything that I do must be righteous. Commitment means a lot to me. So, hypothetically, if I was to be tired of my relationship, I would not cheat, I would say, ‘End this, and then go find another girl.’

You read about chivalry. Bushido is the samurai code of conduct – the way of the warrior. They have certain principles, where ‘to say is to do’ – your word is your bond. I was probably eight or ten when I read about these things. I loved the King Arthur legends. It was cool – armour, swords, rescuing damsels in distress, leading chaste lives…and I decided I wanted to be like these guys. It always got them into trouble with the girls – and I still get suckered by damsels in distress. It’s an inbuilt thing…every guy falls for it!

I believe if you do the right things, you don’t need grand gestures of romance. Men use these smokescreens to cover up their relationship inadequacies. I can neglect my girlfriend all day and turn up with a bunch of roses – that doesn’t make it okay. Instead, if I call her twice during the day, we stay connected. The candyfloss idea of romance is just that – paint and gloss. Paint is all very well, but it is not going to keep the rain out – it is the unglamorous bricks and mortar that will. The good guys don’t need showbiz.

Imran Khan: An Actor and a Gentleman

20 Monday Apr 2009

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Aamir Khan, Avantika Malik, Bollywood, Delhi Belly, imrankhan, indiancinema, Interview, Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na, Kidnap, Luck, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Verve Man, Features, April 2009
Photograph by Colston Julian

Affable yet reticent, blunt yet polite, serious yet funny, unemotional yet moody, Bollywood’s latest poster boy seems to be a contradiction of sorts. Aamir Khan’s nephew and Nasir Husain’s grandson, 26-year-old Imran Khan is two films down with two new releases, Delhi Belly and Luck coming up this year. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh draws the suave and restrained actor out, even if just for a little bit

The brows are furrowed in intense concentration. The facial expression is blank. The eyes are reflective. The humour is deadpan. No smirk, no smile, not even a laugh line. And yet we all titter. What is it about this new kid on the block that sends hearts fluttering and makes you yearn to know more? As I watch Imran Khan step self-consciously in front of the camera, taking shot after shot effortlessly, I can’t help but notice his face has character. Whether it emanates from the well-crafted jawline or the intensely expressive eyes, it’s unmistakable. After every shot, Imran lithely hops over for a critical assessment. He is his own worst (or best) critic. As he discusses camera angles with photographer Colston Julian, I learn that he is a self-taught actor (or more accurately, natural), while he has been formally trained in writing, cinematography and direction at New York Film Academy, Los Angeles.

In a crisp white shirt and black trousers with a funky Batman tie (he is a huge fan), Imran sits cross-legged before me on a chair with an expectant look on his face. Why would someone who looks as good as him not attempt to give acting a shot and head straight for direction? As a child he picked up the camera, playing with genres like sci-fi (on the lines of Alien), Agatha Christiesque murder mysteries and spoofs. Post-school, he stumbled from market research into advertising (including ad films). At this point he realised films are what he understands best. After all, the mere smell of celluloid gives him butterflies in his stomach.

Acting was never his intention. A sequence of events – or fate – combined with Abbas Tyrewala’s faith in him led to Imran being cast as the lead in Jaane Tu…Ya Jaane Na (2008), the film that made him an overnight star. Despite having played a young Aamir Khan in Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (1988) and Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar (1992), he says matter-of-factly, “I never thought of myself as being a very good looking guy and figured there was no place for me in the Hindi film industry. Hrithik Roshan set the bar. He is a complete package. I’m not built like him, I can’t dance even a quarter as well as he can – that’s something I aspire to.”

Noticing my imperceptible shiver with the blast from the air conditioner, he solicitously jumps to his sock-covered feet and props himself up on his toes to tone down the room temperature. Then in a flash he is back in interrogation mode. Born in Wisconsin, America, to Nuzhat Khan (director Mansoor Khan’s sister) and Anil Pal, he moved to Mumbai with his mother after his parents’ divorce. He was a year and a half at the time. In all the schools he went to – including Bombay Scottish (Mumbai), two schools in Ooty, a nature-based gurukul in the Nilgiris, Bangalore and Fremont high school in Sunnyvale, California, he was always the new kid in school. “It was really tough. I didn’t grow up being considered cool or dating a lot of girls. I was into science and books and not into sports. I was always the odd one out at parties, sitting in the corner, knowing barely two or three people.”

Imran admits that constantly moving from school to school made him more independent but also a bit of a loner. “I don’t socialise a lot and like silence. I can’t be on all the time – I need occasions when I am with absolutely no one so I can reset, recharge, rejuvenate and then come back out.” He has only just started to make friends in the industry – think Ranbir Kapoor – since he grew up not knowing anyone. Though fond of listening to music, he can’t abide television. He actually doesn’t own a TV or a cable connection. Surprising, considering that he is an obsessive movie buff and watches three to five movies a day (on his computer) and is happiest when at a movie theatre.

As we get to the much-publicised fact that girls are extremely “well-behaved” around him – “very calm and composed – no crazy stuff,” I discover he is also the guy who likes to be in the background and tries not to get noticed. “I roam around town (getting a roll at Candies, Bandra) practically invisible. It’s like an internal switch I can turn on and off. I can walk into a room and make everyone turn around and notice me, or I can walk across a room and no one will ever realise that I am there.”

He can be brutally blunt without any perceptible intention of causing discord. “I can’t make stuff up or say anything that isn’t exactly as it is. I live my life by fact and follow reason and logic. I find emotion and irrationality hard to deal with.” Does that make relationships complicated? He swiftly attributes his personal growth to his relationship with girlfriend Avantika Malik, whom he has been seeing for over six years. “I have learned a lot about myself and become a more balanced person. I was 19 when I started seeing Avantika, at a point where I couldn’t express my thoughts and feelings. I’m still not very good at that but have become more comfortable with my own emotions.” The young actor doesn’t see any danger in tagging himself as ‘unavailable’ – “People trust you more if you are open about your relationships.”

Post film school in LA, he could have tried his hand at Hollywood movies. He attributes his return to India to finding it offensive that elite Indians can be so disdainful of Hindi films. “I understand that these movies have shortcomings, but I want to make it better!” He explains earnestly, “I have never lacked anything in life. Everything that I have today comes from the film industry. My grandfather started with nothing – his family threw him out when they found out that he wanted to work in the film industry. He has built it all up, and for me to run away from that is impossible.” I can quite believe him when he says his strongest point is his integrity. “If it is not right or not honourable, I won’t do it – like taking money for things I don’t believe in. It may be an old-fashioned concept, but it counts for something, right?”

Right. And victory follows the honourable? According to the Capricornian, “Success is having the freedom to choose to do only what you really want to do.” By his own definition, Imran is very successful. While scripts are lined up at home, he can’t seem to find one that excites him. “I feel bored and stagnated if I am doing the same thing over and over – that’s part of the reason I am not a banker!” It explains why he jumped from playing a romantic hero to a villain. Ironically, while serious roles are easier for him than light, fun, “torturous” scenes, Imran suffered a lot emotionally, playing the negative role in Kidnap (2008). He couldn’t sleep, would suddenly start crying, and even threw up, dealing with the violence of the character. I ask him if it is worth it. Pensively he says, “I have come out of that stronger as an actor. It’s like scar tissue – when it heals, it heals back tougher.”

In his upcoming comic caper Delhi Belly, directed by Abhinay Deo and from the Aamir Khan Productions banner, Imran sports a new look. He loses the beefed-up frame of Luck, a forthcoming action-thriller directed by Soham Shah and turns into a long-haired, scrawny guy. “Everyone knows how much your physical appearance affects you personally. Women think that way about being fat while guys worry about being skinny.” He straightens his body and puffs his shoulders to demonstrate. “Physicality means a lot – for better or for worse. That’s how we are!”

He is precise and involved about his look to the extent of admitted eccentricity. The idiosyncrasy is tinged with moodiness – he shuffles simultaneously through multiple books and movies entirely dependent on his frame of mind. Imran, who coined, “I like humanity in principle but not in practice,” doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. “The people who matter know and understand me. I don’t feel everyone needs to like me beyond a superficial level.” And yet this intensely private person is also incredibly sentimental. The quirky tie collector fondly treasures his grandfather’s blue tie; and the green-and-yellow striped tie worn by Aamir in Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar is sported by the nephew in the publicity stills of Jaane Tu…. I inadvertently stumble upon a pair of bright-hued Converse shoes (another fetish) gifted to him by a friend on his birthday, that he doggedly wears despite their being a size too small.

He puts the shoes down and looks up expectantly. My first and last memory of him is his intense concentration. He doesn’t get distracted easily as people move, doors open, phones ring, bugs fly; he remains completely tuned into the task at hand. For about an hour the deep brown eyes are trained onto me and the very second, the conversation (as he prefers to term it) is over, the eyes have clicked out and the focus has shifted to the next task at hand. The bright young Khan – who refuses to tint his car or wear sunglasses because they hide the eyes and mask the face – has withdrawn into his shell, the inscrutable mask back in place.