Vikramaditya Motwane is not quite pacy, choosing to invest his works with a certain old-world sensitivity and rootedness. After his coming of age film, Udaan, and the now deliciously languid chase film, lootera, he has revived the lost art of great Hindi cinema, that of story-telling and wholesome characters. Having pooled in his resources with filmmakers Anurag Kashyap, Madhu Mantena and Vikas Bahl, he is looking to pave a middle-of-the-road legacy. One that can restore cinema’s golden era. He talks to Rinku Ghosh.

After a realistic, slice-of-life presentation in Udaan, was there a pressure to shift to a more commercialformatIJ What inspired you to work with a period romance against a larger-than-life backdropIJ

I have never believed in slotting myself. I have had diverse film influences and I want to do different and good films. Not many know but I wrote both Udaan and lootera around the same time. There is a presumption that the two films are different because Udaan was my first film and everybody considered it to be my natural style of doing things. Had it not been critically acclaimed, I wouldn’t have been attributed with the tag of a filmmaker, leave alone one with a style and grammar. I don’t know what my real style is. The only thing I am conscious about is to tell stories of real people in a rivetting manner and I don’t want to get stuck by formula just because it worked. I do not want to end up making five films of the same kind. Udaan didn’t require stars, was minimalistic; lootera was about a romance of scale and so I took stars.

Where did the story idea come fromIJ

I was narrating the idea to a friend at a party and he said it reminded him of The last leaf  by O Henry. I had all the time in the world and so I read him up. Then I fleshed out my story.

You have attempted to set your film in the 1950s, when our black-and-white classics got made. Also, youhave set the story in eastern India again, this time Bengal, once the seat of film pioneers. A conscious throwback to our golden ageIJ

A lot of people think I grew up there when fact is I am out and out a Bombay boy. I do not like known reference points, I like to be the outsider who can become the insider. I like the challenge of the unknown. Jamshedpur happened because of Imtiaz Ali. He read the script which I had based on my childhood in Nasik, which like Jamshedpur, is an industrial town. I told him I didn’t want Nasik as the backdrop because it was too personal. I had thought of Faridabad because of its laidback, factory town life where you come to Delhi to work and party and go back. But it isn’t like that. Then Imtiaz said, “Take it to Jamshedpur yaar. Everything I am reading is reminding me of my hometown.”

I actually wrote two drafts of lootera, one classic and the other modern-day. The latter I dropped because I felt kuch charm nahi hai picture mein, the ’50s gave romance innocence, purity and a deep-seated, smouldering passion and wistfulness. Emotions may be universal but in these times of instant gratification, where is the languor, the pleasure and the painIJ If two people fall in love and break up, it is impossible not to know what the other person is doing. In the ’50s, people could disappear from your life forever. There was a pathos in that.

Also, trips to Jamshedpur meant as many visits to Kolkata. And as an outsider what struck me most was how much of the old Raj grandeur of Kolkata was still scattered across Bengal. You go to a random village and find these huge castles and mansions in the middle of nowhere. Once we found this huge villa, some 40 km away from the highway, belonging to a zamindar, refusing to be stumped out by time. Then I started researching, spoke to landowners, scholars, historians. I was fascinated by the richness of their social and cultural lifestyle. So there is a lot of obsession over detailing in the film, down to the costumes and the jewellery.

In terms of pre-production, we had started our work in 2007 and so a lot of my home-work was already done when I got the money to make the film. It was years of hard work. I have an amazing crew and we were very sorted about each of our locations. And we were honest about the physicality of effort.

How did your romance with films beginIJ

My father ran a company, so I always saw myself joining it some day. My parents got divorced when I was 10. That time I fiddled around with still cameras (I have always been a gizmo freak). My mom took up a job, first as a copy writer and then as a production manager to documentary film-maker Shukla Das. Often, she would take me to her shoots though I would hate pottering around. I thought they were boring, repeating the same story sequence over and over again.

Then in 1993, my mother became an independent producer and started a talk show called Teen Talk for Doordarshan. I was about 18 then. One day she chanced upon me and my friends and said, “You fools, since you are doing nothing and bunking junior college, might as well start working.”

Since it was a youth show, our perspective mattered and we got involved in a lot of back-end work, production, research and the art work. That was the first time I found the whole production process as something creative and magical, particularly the play of lights, their bearing on the sets, their focus on the characters and how they changed their aura.  

I had my epiphany and told myself, “This is your space yaar. The cameras and tapes, you have lived for this kind of stuff.” I started assisting the director of the show, who also did Disney Club for Doordarshan.

So you were born on Doordarshan...

It was revolutionary in many ways; now you have channels dedicated to this kind of programming. I learnt a lot, particularly editing, sitting all night perfecting new techniques and watching films for inspiration. That’s how I got into serious cinema and the aura of Amitabh Bachchan. Amar Akbar Anthony is still my favourite movie of all times. There was no looking back as I became an ardent student of Indian cinema.

When my mom was working with Shukla Das, Sanjay leela Bhansali happened to be her assistant director. They were friends. They tried to start a production company together but failed very badly. They were both too honest about and sincere to their craft to worry about logistics and bottom lines. I was 20 when Bhansali started work on Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam and I signed up as his apprentice. It was like going to film school. I earned `2,000 a week, which worked out to `8,000 a month, a lot of money at that time. I continued with him into Devdas.

You have seen Sanjay leela Bhansali in his ‘magnum opus’ phase...

I don’t know if his best works are yet to come but I have had the best experience under his wings. He taught me the grand scale of story-telling and the importance of a backdrop. So that’s why when people say lootera is not your kind of movie, they forget that I have grown up in that tradition and it is easier for me to mount a canvas.

People think Bhansali is a hard taskmaster. He does not trust you easily but when he does, he loves you to death. When he realised that I was as eager about editing and the less fancied but crucial parts of filmmaking, he  gave me a free hand. He would tell me, “You do the background of this scene.” He took the final call but I would try and show him, “This is what can be done.” We would sit for hours to get the sound right. He showed confidence in me. Devdas was one of the last films to be edited on a Steenbeck machine that is used to physically cut reels. Doing it the conservative way not only enhances your technical knowledge but teaches you the economy of choices.

When did you think of making a film on your ownIJ

After Devdas. In between I had also assisted Deepa Mehta. And then I met Anurag Kashyap in 1994-95. We hit it off from the word go and in just one day we had figured out we were like long lost souls, “Tu mera bhai hai” types. He was making Paanch and told me candidly, “Maine kabhi gaana shoot nahi kiya.” Having trained under Bhansali in all departments, I knew choreography and I offered to do the song for him. He was so passionate and full of energy about Paanch. It was made with no money, shot at wonderful locations with superb actors. It was inspirational to just go on the sets, there was total freedom and a livewire exchange of ideas. Then I went back to doing Devdas. And I realised I had to tell my story, write it out first. I struggled but I had to break out.

How did Udaan happenIJ

Udaanhappened because of Dev D, which was produced by Spot Boy, a UTV offshoot that promoted alternative, original, small budget and independent films. I wrote the story of Dev D with Anurag. Once it did well, investors started approaching him and he kept his promise of producing Udaan. It was great because it was privately-funded and had no studio interference. Everyone just came on board the film. They read the script and immediately said, “Chalo karte hain.” We went to Jamshedpur by train, got down and shot the film the way we wanted to.

Today you have set up Phantom

Films with Anurag, Vikas Bahl (formerly UTV Spot Boys) and Madhu Mantena (producer of Ghajini) asone of the key players in the indie movement. Do you think you can stand up to the big studiosIJ

The indie movement is here to stay, so much so that all the big stars are taking risks, like it was in the 1950s and 1960s. People today may say the viewer is evolved but truth be told, the viewer and the demand were always there. It is just that the multiplexes and the improved viewing experience have got them out in big numbers.

I can’t say which film started the entire movement, because there have been precursors too many, but today it is heartening to see a Barfi, Kahaani and a Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara making money. Ten years ago, nobody could have thought about releasing an Aamir, Dev D and Udaan or now lunch Box or Ship of Theseus. Today, a small budget film can be played alongside the guaranteed, big masala grossers in multi-screen theatres, the risk can be spread out and both can make profits. Both can co-exist. 

We are keeping a film within a certain budget. For example if you spend `5 crore and pick up `15-20 crore, you are making a profit. As long as you are smart about economics before making a film, have each cost down to the brass tacks, you can stay afloat. I can’t say I want to make a film with a budget of `60 crore. I can’t.

Have you ever approached a big studio for any of your venturesIJ

We approached every single big studio with Udaan but they all turned it down. Eventually, UTV Spot Boys took it up. Vikas (Bahl) watched the film, loved it and told Ronnie that you guys have to present this film. But after that, we also felt that we wanted to have a little more control over our feelings in terms of content, the production and marketing. The four of us had varying strengths and thought we would help out each other.

So nobody takes the load...

We are together. We give studios the guarantee that as a foursome, we will give you a great product at the end of the day. So, trust us. Phantom Production is a collective force.

We all read each other’s scripts, we are critical about mutual feedback, watch each other’s edits. We are egoless enough to value the strength of the other. Anurag sits in during my edits, has a dialogue with my music director. I read his scripts or sit in on his film. We are collaborators and we can have better control rather than running amok. As a company, we are very efficient. We do not say we are going to give you the next best film. We say we will deliver the same quality at 25 per cent less, because we know how to maximise our resources and skills. Vikas has been in Spot Boy, he understands the art of low budget films. I have risen from the ranks of assistant director, so I understand the value of saving money. Anurag has made films with no money and even sold them in world film markets. Madhu knows the dynamics of a big budget. So together we can make a film on our terms and yet make it look lucrative to studios.

What has been your takeaway from overseas film markets and how do they make business sense foryour kind of filmsIJ

The situation has improved drastically in the last three years. When we showed Udaan at Cannes, there was a certain confusion among the audience as to what exactly it was because they only knew Bollywood or arthouse. They just couldn’t get that a middle ground was being worked out by Dibakar, Nagesh and Anurag in our staple Hindi films. At the same time, they found these films very accessible and interesting. Caught in an image trap, we were in a problematic place.

But since my experience with Udaan, things have changed a lot. This year we had lunchbox playing at Critics’ Week and Ugly at Director’s Fortnight. They are beginning to like our interesting, independent stories. It will take some more time. Meanwhile, foreign investors are keen. lunchbox has been sold to Sony Pix Classic, it’s a big deal. Gangs of Wasseypur was  released in France last year. These are small signs of a big change.

Who are your inspirationsIJ

In India, it’s Bimal Roy and Guru Dutt. I just love their work. I think Pyasa is one of the finest films ever made anywhere in the world. I find Vijay Anand underrated but so versatile. The fact that he could go from making a Guide to a Jewel Thief and a Johnny Mera Naam showed his effortless ease and range. I would also like to mention Subhash Ghai. I used to love his films, be it Karz, Karma, Hero or Ram lakhan. It was commercial cinema with great storytelling. The problem with our big budget masala films today is the lack of a good screenplay to leave a lasting impression.

Apart from that, I think Dibakar and Anurag’s work is fantastic. Raju Hirani is outstanding and he’s the best director we have in the industry today. Internationally, my heroes are Kurosawa, Hitchcock, Kubrick and Billy Wilder, all fantastic story-tellers.

What are you working on nextIJ

I haven’t decided yet. I’ll go on a holiday first. I need a break between films unlike Anurag who can keep on working. He’s like, “Sab banao.” His energy is of another level.