Interview- Adoor Gopalakrishnan
The unedited version of my interview with filmmaker Adoor Gopalakrishnan, published in The Hindu Sunday Magazine dated 21/08/2016. The interview was done two weeks back at his residence in Akkulam.
The year is 2016, but it could still be the 1960s in Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s world, where he’s living and making films in his own unhurried pace, in his own terms. The seeping influence of the market stops a mile away from his home, in Akkulam, away from the bustle of Thiruvananthapuram city. A wee bit tensed, and a whole lot excited, Adoor is waiting for the release of his latest film ‘Pinneyum’ (Once Again), his 12th in his 50-year long career. The man, whose oeuvre fetched Malayalam cinema an address in the world cinema map, speaks to The Hindu on his filmmaking practice.
You have been an active filmmaker for almost 50 years now, a period during which much has changed in cinema. How different was the process of making your latest film ‘Pinneyum’ compared to your debut ‘Swayamvaram’?
Drastic! This is the first time I am shooting in digital. I approached it with so much fear. Throughout my life, I’ve been handling the negative film, waiting for it to be processed and watching the rushes weeks later, by which time, making further changes to the shots was a tall order. Now, it has all become easier. You can watch what you have shot then itself and be absolutely sure about what you have on screen. I managed to finish this film in 23 days, compared to 30 or more days for earlier films.
Many of the independent filmmakers of the older generation are contemptuous of digital filmmaking
I used to be like that too. From my experience I have understood that the advantages are immense. Only that you have to use it creatively. There is a tendency to shoot a lot of footage because it is digital. I have maintained the economy with which I used to work in films. No extra footage.
You have avoided the usual round of film festivals for this film, releasing it straight to the theatre.
Yes, I am scared of piracy now. Someone somewhere will get hold of a copy and upload it online. This is also the first time I am going to release my film nationally.
Tell us about ‘Pinneyum’
The starting point of the film is a still unsolved case which happened in Kerala in the 1980s. Sukumara Kurup, a Gulf- employed man killed and burnt a stranger in a hideous plot to fake his own death so as to claim insurance. The man did not surface again after the plot boomeranged.
Here, the people who kill are no cruel criminals. They are common people, driven by a certain greed. It’s something we see around us, of people doing anything to amass wealth. These crimes are not done by poor people, but the so called middle class. Others join him to help him. They also turn criminal and have to suffer the consequences.
What made you return to this old story now?
Though it happened several decades back, it has been at the back of my mind. It’s not about Sukumara Kurup. It triggered off a though process. I have no idea of who he was or his family, what they were like. It’s about the present day. It kept on bothering me. Why should anybody do this? I am interested in the psychology also. Criminals think that their plan is so perfect that it cannot give them away. They won’t think about failure and the repercussions. The whole thing starts from there. It is a strange way of progressing towards a crime. Once the crime is done, they can do nothing.
Only the wealthy are recognized in this society where values are dead. They finance political parties and buy everything they want. Even during the national election, Modi could buy every channel and every newspaper. I was amazed. They were showing his entire election speeches. I have never seen this before. Even when Kabali released, they had bought the entire media. They had learned a lesson from Modi. You can buy anything. When issues crop up, you just need to go on a foreign trip. There’s no comment from him on any issues. With this year, he will finish visiting all nations. People think that India’s popularity is spreading far and wide because of these visits. For that to happen, the situation in India has to improve. Someone going to these countries and speaking and saying “bhai behnon “would not change things.
All these things really bothered me. Several things, not just one. On one side, we are going very materialistic. On the other side, there’s so much maneuvering, in politics.
In the film, I have included the scene of the killing as it could not be avoided. I have not shown graphically. It is only suggested. Unless it is shown, it won’t have an impact. I don’t illustrate the process of killing and torture.
You focus more on how people react, like in those violent scenes in Vidheyan..
Yes. That has more impact. Otherwise, it’s off-putting, to show dismembering and blood being splattered around. I can’t sit through such scenes. This is also my most meticulously choreographed film. Ninety percent of it is set inside an old house, like in ‘Elipathayam’.
You have always situated your films amid major ruptures in society, be it the slow decay of feudalism or the disillusionment with communism. This is the first time that you are setting your film in the post-liberalisation period.
I have made films only on the periods through which I have lived. I have said only the things that I have knowledge about. The issues that have been bothering me in the past eight years, after I made my last film, and the life I lived during that period, led to this film.
You are known for your meticulous planning, especially the detailed shooting scripts.
I improve upon the shooting script too. The film is always better than the script I write, because I have allowed it an organic growth. I put down on paper every minute detail, camera positions and movements. I specify the lenses too for each shot.
What about the choices of the cinematographer?
Cinematographer’s work is mainly lighting and to some extent composition. Yes, suggestions do come at times. For instance in Elipathayam, for that scene where Unni’s bed-ridden sister is carried away to the doctor along with her bed, I had written it as comprising of several shots. But while shooting, cinematographer Mankada Ravivarma suggested that we can make it a single shot by attaching the camera to the bed. That shot gave us such a fantastic feeling. I accept such suggestions.
This meticulous planning and discipline is reflected in your personal life too, in how you have stayed away from the ‘anarchist’ lifestyle?
Yes. That’s true. If you look at the people whom Malayalis celebrate, they all drink a lot and have their own gangs, to celebrate and remember them. I have no such groups.
You have had a long partnership with cinematographer Mankada Ravivarma from your debut ‘Swayamvaram’ to the ninth film ‘Nizhalkuthu’. How did it all begin?
His younger brother was two years my junior at FTII Pune. He used to tell me about his brother in Madras, a cinematographer who’s not interested in working in mainstream films. I had by then started thinking about doing a film. When I wrote the script of ‘Swayamvaram’ a few years later, I sent it to Ravivarma. In his response, he wrote that this will become an important film in Malayalam and that he will be glad to associate with it. Before that, he had worked for Azeez’s Aval and P.N.Menon’s Olavum Theeravum.
You made your last film eight years back. Typically, there are long gaps between all your films. What happens between two Adoor films, other than the numerous documentaries?
After doing one film, the next two years will have fallouts of that film, including festivals. After that, I forget about filmmaking for a long time. One advantage of this gap is that the influence of the previous work would not come into the new work. The mind has to remain fallow for some time for a new subject to develop.
About the casting in your films. Even as you have remained critical of commercial cinema, you have never shied away from casting ‘stars’ like Mammootty or Madhu or now Dileep.
I am not in awe of any star. I see the person only as an actor. Importantly, the star should look like the character in my mind. For example, no one would cast Mammootty as Pattelar in ‘Vidheyan’. But I cast him because his figure conveyed a possibility, as a representative of immense power. You need to know the complete root and background of a particular character and decide on an actor. It might be a character who appears for just a minute, but he should be portrayed in such a way that you will get to know him as a person from your life.
You have introduced two of Malayalam cinema’s greatest actors — Bharath Gopi and Karamana Janardhanan Nair
I knew both of them for a long time. Both of them had acted in my plays. When I did ‘Waiting for Godot’ after my first film, Gopi acted in it.
It’s said that you never reveal the entire storylines to the actors?
Yes. I tell them only what is required in that particular sequence, because telling them the whole story might lead them to interpretations. I don’t need their interpretations. That could be at cross purposes with my own intentions. When I started doing Vidheyan, I noticed that M.R.Gopakumar, who was doing Thommi’s role, was behaving in a peculiar way in the sets. I asked him about this. He said that he had heard that the film is based on Zachariah’s story and had read it several times. I asked him, ‘Who asked you to read it? This film is not based on that story. The story is just a starting point.’
You need to know the complete root and background and decide on an actor. It might be a character which appears for a minute, but he should be portrayed in such a way that you will get to know him as a person from your life.
Method actors might have an issue with your style..
The person should be a good artiste, whatever name you call it. They have to be intelligent enough to improve on whatever I give. Gopi had such advantages. He could imbibe whatever I told him. I keep on giving instructions even when the camera is rolling. The actor should not be conscious when he hears this instruction.
This is why you stopped using sync sound after your first film ‘Swayamvaram’?
Yes. I lose a lot of freedom with sync sound. The new Malayalam films are using it. Many think that they discovered it recently. I was one of the first to use sync sound in the country. The Nagra recorders came out when we were studying in FTII. We have seen the whole transition in sound recording during that time, from shooting the sound with a separate camera to sync sound.
About the way you use the background score. In a film like ‘Elipathayam’, the music is very pronounced, whereas in ‘Kodiyettam’, you have eschewed it completely.
The decisions on music are taken based on the theme of the film, not to heighten the emotions in the dramatic scenes or to reinforce what is shown on screen. You resort to such gimmicks when the scene that you created fails to convey the emotions. In Kodiyettam, the protagonist is aimless. If there’s music, it tracks the whole thing in a particular direction, which I wanted to avoid. I have used a Kathakali song in the final sequence though.
The classical arts like Kathakali have had quite an influence on you, right from childhood, but you never depict them explicitly on screen.
Yes. Even last night, I spent two peaceful hours watching ‘Rukminiswayamvaram’ Kathakali, amid all this running around. During my childhood, there used to be Kathakali yogams, where troupes would perform at our home on special days. The taste I developed there probably led me to theatre. But I did not pay much attention to these during my younger days. It was many years later, after acquiring more knowledge that I reclaimed these. But I never force it on screen. The culture will be reflected in my work, without showing it explicitly.
B.Appukuttan Nair, who founded Margi and belonged to the Thoppil family, once called and told me that you are missing something wonderful and invited me for a Koodiyattam performance. He would sit beside me and explain everything to me. After several years of watching, it so happened that a proposal was sent to the UNESCO to include Koodiyattam in the list of the great oral tradition of the human kind. So, I was asked to do a documentary. This was in 2000. The uncut version is 10 hours and the edited one around 3 years.
You have drawn on Malayalam literature for the stories of four of your films.
Usually when new ideas fail to strike me, I go back to stories which have made an impression on me. I re-read them and decide whether to take it up. Even Zachariah’s story I was not keen to take it up first. It was published in Mathrubhumi several years back. The character was too cruel, without any shades. I couldn’t depict such cruelty. So I suggested it to filmmaker K.G.George, who had then made ‘Irakal’, which I couldn’t watch completely because of the violence. But he was not interested. I went back to the story. I broke down the character and gave him a tinge of redemption somewhere. He feels a kind of repentance after he murders his wife in my version.
The reactions from Basheer and Zachariah to the films based on their books were so starkly different. While Basheer gave you a license to use any of his works to make films, Zachariah was highly critical of your adaptation.
It’s not that Zachariah hated the film. He watched the film twice. He was just using the occasion for his personal gain. That controversy was timed for the launch of the film in Kerala.
After Mathilukal, whenever people used to approach Basheer for one of his stories for a film, he used to send me a letter asking my opinion. There was so much love. ‘Mathilukal’ was published in the 1967 anniversary issue of Kaumudi. The story became so popular that a second edition of the issue was released. I made the film 25 years later. In between, several people tried making a film out of it. But they all left it when they realized that there’s no chance to cast a heroine in that story. Basheer told me this story when I went to meet him with the film idea and asked me, ‘Whom are you casting as the female lead?’ I said, ‘No one’. And, he replied — ‘Ah, then the film would be great.’ Some director had apparently written a script in which each time the name Narayani is called out, a different actress would appear on the screen.
There’s been some criticism over using the familiar voice of KPAC Lalitha for the character of Narayani.
I asked back to the critics, ‘If you felt that the person on the other side is Lalitha, whom did you think was there on this side of the wall? Basheer or Mammootty?’ I had conducted voice tests of over 40 people for that character. But none fit as well as Lalitha. The choice was between a great familiar voice and a not so good unfamiliar voice.
Sequences of eating, almost like a ritualistic performance, are a part of many of your films. For instance, Nandu’s long eating sequence in Naalu Pennungal and Karamana’s one in Elipathayam.
Eating is an important time, where the family comes together daily, more than any other time. It is an important scene for sharing. I use the eating process to signify various other things. In Naalu Pennungal, Nandu’s character is someone who’s not interested in women, but in eating. Thakazhi has written one line to describe that character — “He never says enough, when rice is being served.” I developed that line.
In Elipathayam, the scene is used to show his displeasure and also his powerlessness to react, despite being the family’s figurehead.
Even while retaining the distinctive Kerala character and a certain rootedness in your films, do you make a conscious attempt to make your films universally appealing considering the overseas audience?
No. The value of the art work depends on how much of innateness we retain. We should not make films aimed at the overseas crowd. That will then become like our tourism campaigns. This is why some people, who’ve never watched ‘Kathakali’ make films with it thinking that foreigners will get impressed by it. That’s a misconception. There used to be this criticism against Ray that he’s selling our poverty overseas. That’s such idiotic talk. No one likes to see our poverty.
You always avoid overt political commentary in your films. Even in a film like ‘Mukhamukham’, it’s more of a human story that you portray, than a political statement.
There is politics as subject and statements in my films. But, it’s not the kind of political film some are making. Usually, the person making the film has a point to prove. I have never done that. But yet, there is a kind of politics even in the way you place the camera. The way a person who is 6 inch tall sees the world is different from the way a 5-incher sees it.
Are you at any time in the making of a film concerned about how people interpret the film? For instance, how ‘Mukhamukham’ was interpreted as an anti-left film?
I am the creator, critic and audience at the same time. In the case of ‘Mukhamukham’, it would have been surprising if the reactions did not happen that way. Those attacks are good and made the film worthwhile. Though at that time, I felt sad, now I feel that it’s good. The film has provoked people.
While I was writing the script, my friend Meera Sahib suggested naming the political party as something else in the film. I asked him, ‘what is the purpose of the film then?’ Communism is a very important ideology in our society. I made that film because I had a concern towards it, not to condemn it. Nor was the intention to heap it with praises. The film posed questions that the common people in the society asks.
If you look at the history of the communist party, their downfall started from the split. Those who stood together till then, split for the sake of leadership. What other ideological difference do they have? One went along China’s way and another along Russia’s way. That’s what they say. Even now some say that they want to unite and the stronger one keeps on saying ‘No’.
About interpretation, the true sign of a work of art is that it should not be like a table or a chair. Commercial cinema is like that. Even a kid sees those films like the way the grownups do. But each person responds differently to a serious work of art, because they bring their own selves into the appreciation of it. One thing I love to say about my films is that, those who like my films like different films. Some like Elipathayam, some others Mathilukal and so on.
How much of your personal politics has changed from the time you made ‘Mukhamukham’?
I don’t have a personal political stance. As an artist, I wish to remain independent. I don’t want to be part of any political party.
Not as part of a party, personally.
I only have a humanist approach. A Gandhian approach, perhaps. I don’t approve of a party without that , like the Hindutva party. That’s very wrong to create something like that here. This is a country which has a place for all kinds of people. We can’t be another Pakistan.
That’s affecting every facet of society, be it in FTII or film censoring. How do you see the onslaught on culture?
(Please don’t quote me on this) They don’t have any kind of culture. That’s why they are afraid of culture. They made one idiot the chairman of the FTII and another idiot the chairman of the censor board. There’s so much negativity in the whole thing. Except Modi, everyone is substandard. Modi is efficient in that he tested Hindutva successfully in Gujarat and is trying to implement it across the country. He’s a very clever person and he has the support of all the business people and whatever he does is for them.
(comments on Vizhinjam…kolachel ports..Adani)
You have been a part of the committee which set up the National Film Development Corporation. Has it been able to fulfill any of the objectives with which it was set up?
The NFDC is in a pathetic condition. No objectives have been met. In the earlier days, it had a role in the new Indian cinema movement. But it petered out.
Do you watch the new films?
Only if they have something special. I don’t have the patience or time to sit through most of it.
What were the films that you watched in your formative years?
I did not have any connection with cinema before FTII. I used to watch films once in a while, like anybody else. My area was drama. By the time I reached FTII, I was a well-equipped playwright. I ended up in FTII by chance. After my stint in Gandhigram University, I got a job as an investigator with the National Sample Survey Organisation, which I did for about one and a half years. Then I got bored. I wanted to do something more with my life. When I checked the National School of Drama, the teaching there happened mostly in Hindi, in which I didn’t have much knowledge. Around that time, I saw an ad for admissions to the 1962 batch of the FTII, which had started just a year back. One of the courses was ‘Screenplay writing’. Since I was already a published playwright, I thought I will take this up, thinking that it might have something to do with plays.
(talks on the FTII interview…scholarship etc. ..on watching Pather panchali for the first time at Gandhigram)
Did any filmmaker influence you?
You can never say that. I have watched the works almost all the important filmmakers. It’s like you read so many books and if someone asks you whether one book or author has inspired you, you can’t say that. Yes, another person can inspire you, not influence.
You started out by making dramas. But ‘dramatics’ is absent from your films. Did you lose that at FTII?
Dramatics did not come into my films, because I know what drama is. I tell that even to my actors, some of whom use their hands and body vigorously. Our mainstream cinema is full of drama. These loud gestures are meant for theatre, to be visible even to those sitting at the back. In cinema, you don’t need to do that. That work is done by the camera. If the camera wants to see you close, it will come to you.
Why did you not work on any play after ‘Waiting for godot’?
KPAC did compel me to do one. I refused. I never felt like doing after that. I am concentrating all my energy in cinema.
You have made only 12 films in all these years. Have you ever felt that you could have worked at some more pace?
No. I can never do that. I have heard filmmakers saying ‘I am working on such and such film now..and my next film will be’. When I hear that, it surprises me. For me, even one is more than enough.
I’ve been thinking about this film for past 7–8 years. It keeps on bothering you. It keeps coming back. The shape keeps on changing. If you go and do one straightaway, then it becomes just a story of a murder. This is not that. That murder is the point from where it takes off. That is a spark. You are talking about other things in your film.
Tell us about what led to ‘Anantaram’, perhaps one of your most complex films.
When my wife was pregnant with our daughter, she came back from the hospital and told me this story of a child which was abandoned in the hospital and later adopted by one of the doctors there. That was the spark for Anantaram. That was the story of an introvert and his perceptions. There is an extrovert and introvert in each one of us. I am an introvert but I am forced to be an extrovert because I am a filmmaker.
How much of Kathapurushan is autobiographical?
It’s just that the film starts off from autobiographical elements.
You can say that about almost all your films.
True. You can say that about the new film too. But, we cannot translate our own experiences into cinema. You have to change it into a universal experience. Our craft lies there. Our own experiences are useful, because it will be genuine.
You had once said that some kind of mental trauma led to the making of ‘Elipathayam’?
Elipathayam was written at a fast pace. That happened after an incident which shook me. It was after I left the Chitralekha film society, which was founded by me and my friends, following some issues. That was a huge letdown and it affected me. I never imagined something like that would happen. That led to Elipathayam. My wife Sunanda used to say, ‘When you are hit below the belt, you wake up. Until then, you are just lying low’. I think a big force behind this film is my wife’s departure. That could have propelled my creativity in some way.
One of the criticisms about your films is that they might not effectively communicate with the common people. That they are meant for a niche audience.
No, Every time I make a film, I think of it as being meant for every person in the world. I don’t make concessions for that. It’s always in my own terms. Because I am a social being, because I am a sensitive being, because I respond to things around me, I think that what I like should be liked by others also. It’s as simple as that. I hold on to certain values. Even the cruelest person respects someone with values. He won’t respect another cruel person.
Have you ever thought of mass popularity?
For my second film Kodiyettam, I made 13 prints. But most of the theatres refused saying no one would enter the theatre to see Gopi’s face. Only two theatres released — one in Haripad and Asha theatre in Kottayam. But word of mouth led to house full shows. The news spread across the state and the other theatres too released it. It ran for 145 days in Asha theatre. That became popular. Popularity is independent of us. It all depends on people’s mood.
How much ever you talk of technological advancement, when you look at great films, they are basically about human emotions. Films which appeal to that will be loved by the people, how much ever sophisticated is the way you convey it. My hope is that this film will be the most popular of my films till date.
