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Nell'autunno del 2020 Netflix propose - anche in italiano - la serie BBC in sei episodi
Il ragazzo giusto, tratta dall'omonimo
romanzo di Vikram Seth, diretta da Mira Nair e con un cast ricchissimo: Tabu, Vijay Raaz, Vijay Varma, Shahana Goswami, Ram Kapoor, Ishaan Khatter, Vivaan Shah, Ranvir Shorey, Randeep Hooda, Kulbhushan Kharbanda, Vinay Pathak, Vivek Gomber e Manoj Pahwa.
Trailer. Vi segnalo di seguito un paio di interviste concesse dalla regista in quel periodo.
'How much is A Suitable Boy itself a homecoming for you? How lived in does it feel to you?
Very lived in. I read the novel in 1993 soon after it came out. I read it twice. I didn’t want to leave my best friend at the end of it - it was that kind of a feeling. Vikram [Seth] had so extraordinarily captured that Nehruvian India [at] the moment we were trying to create [a] new country after freedom from the British. And yet we were so anglicised and spoke and dreamt in English. He coupled all that with a very astute eye on the politics of that time. So prescient in some ways. But, besides that, the wit and the sensuality, the great depths and layers of friendship between the families - the Khans, the Mehras, the Chatterjees, the Kapoors. It’s a world I do know, but I [have] also longed for. My parents married in 1951, the year of A Suitable Boy’s story. They travelled from Punjab to Orissa where he [Nair’s father] was an administrative officer [IAS officer], setting up the new capital of Bhubaneswar. That’s where I grew up, in those bungalows, with hardly any roads and a new airport, when I was eight years old. The idealism of that time has always attracted me.
The society that you are talking of - what hits home is a longing and a sense of nostalgia: what we were and where we have come. Do you also see parallels with the situation now?
I only came back to A Suitable Boy. I haven’t been holding a torch for it for the last 25 years, hoping to make it. Not at all. I moved on to my own work. Only when I heard that it was being made perhaps [that] I said, anyone but a gora [White] to make it, man! I need to make it [laughs]. Even the story of Babri Masjid is in it. The stories in it, the prescience of Vikram’s vision - the seeds were planted then. But there was the great beauty of the syncretic culture where we come from. The same cloth [from which they are cut], Hindu and Muslim, whether it be language or poetry or music. (...) That was actually the biggest magnet for me. (...) This is (...) the reason why I just had to make it. And make it with such great artistes who [are] deeply imbued [with] what I am talking about in terms of that syncretic culture. Tabu was the first one cast in my head and fortunately she loved it. It’s all about finding that spirit in who you choose and who you bring to the party, and I swear the greatest satisfaction of making A Suitable Boy was this great cornucopia of actors. And pretty much everyone said yes. (...) We cast for over 18 months, [from] all over India - 110 characters and they are all great. And, of course, I have old friends. Many of them started with me so they can’t say no to me. Even Vijay Raaz, who is now a big star, did two scenes for me, memorable scenes. Or Manoj Pahwa. These are extraordinary actors who just came and lit up the screen. That was the real joy; to see Shahana Goswami completely sparkle without any inhibition and with great skill.
You have adapted many other literary works for the screen. What is it that made this fun or [conversely] a nightmare?
I came to it when it had already been adapted by Andrew Davies, who is a master distiller of great big tomes like War and Peace, Les Misérables. He has craftsmanship on his side in such a fantastic way and also a great sense of humour and also the television structure of the cliffhanger, and there are so many in our book. It was there but it had to be culled out. At that time, it was eight hours [duration] and, frankly, the financing for an eight-hour, all-Asian drama in the Western world is always going to be challenging. I used to joke and say, it’s The Crown in brown, as magnificent, with as much sweep as [that] series, but the budget was some 10% of it. I don’t have the statistics, but it is always the case. You don’t have what you need when you are not a gora [White]. I am used to it and I always show it. I always give it to them: “Don’t see my struggle baby. But this is as good as anything out there”. (...) Having said that, we had to distil it further into six episodes of six hours. At that point I was deeply involved and basically added two things. One was to make the political interweave with the personal, [to say] that it would not just be a marriage story - who will she marry, who is the boy? It’s not only that. But it is much more interwoven with the politics of then, which is [also] the politics of now. That balance is what I tried to bring back in. Also, in the process, bringing back certain characters that had not been given the time of day. Like Mrs. Mahesh Kapoor, (...) who is the unspoken cornerstone, the foundation of this political family and is really the glue that holds this family together. Restoring some weight to some characters. And sadly, as is often the case, killing some characters, [by] just not having them. Secondly, I insisted on the language. It’s a beautiful novel in English that people spoke at that time. [But] if Saeeda bai would sing in Urdu, then why wouldn’t she talk in Urdu? Or the villagers. That was the discussion at every level. Vikram, thankfully, supported me, thanked me for “translating it back”, as he put it. For BBC it was quite radical to have their first big drama show in Urdu, Awadhi and Hindustani, mixed with English. But I could do this much and not more. I tried to juice it and do it as skilfully as I could and as naturally to the character as possible. There were other things. Music is my oxygen and it’s a huge part of everything that weaves these worlds together.
Even the incidental music ties in with the larger narrative very well.
This is a very different style for the BBC: “Is it a Bollywood thing? What are these musical interludes? Can’t we just have some kind of a singing over there?” I would say, this is not Bollywood style; this is what I do, and this is why I am doing this. Basically, it was a vocabulary that was not familiar to them. But I must say they came around and they love it for what it is. And then I worked directly and closely with Vikram to get the balance and the nuance and the love and the complications, but most of all the friendship - the depth of it - correct between the Hindu and the Muslim characters. I did not want to fall into any traps of today. I wanted to make sure that we really got (...) what I wanted to say, which is syncretism. The structure of it was given to me and I carefully worked within.
The society as seen in A Suitable Boy is syncretic, but also at a point in time when the threads are beginning to unravel. Is there a sense of regret on how far we have come as a culture, country, society?
Regret is like giving in to defeat. I am confronted by it - we all are - in such a direct, transparent fashion, whether it be renaming things, or pretending things just didn’t exist and, of course, the more targeted attacks we see every day. We cannot be defeated [by] this. We have to persevere, and we have to remember who we actually are. It’s within ourselves'.
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Going down Mira Road, Mayank Shekhar, Mid-Day, 21 novembre 2020 (il testo include il video dell'intervista integrale):
'Mira Nair's journey as an Odisha-born/bred filmmaker in America will seem greater to you, if you consider the first thing she did, landing up as an under-grad student at Harvard in the mid '70s. She went over to her course-mate from Bombay, Sooni Taraporevala, desperately to check on who the other Indians around were. There were only two - studying film. One of them, a gentleman named Anand Mahindra; the industrialist, whose surname carries the massive fleet of automobiles on Indian roads. "Anand was a really talented filmmaker. He's still an artist in his soul. I'll never forget the wonderful thesis-film he made, following a holy man up a mountain," Mira remembers. Screenwriter Sooni and Mira of course became great friends and colleagues thereafter - collaborating on notable productions like Salaam Bombay! (1988), Mississippi Masala (1991), and The Namesake (2006). Anand was the "big brother, who'd encourage everyone to move back to India [once done with studies]." As he did, taking over his family empire.
Speaking of famous associations from unrelated fields, a picture that once got widely circulated online was of Mira as Cleopatra and Shashi Tharoor as Mark Antony, in an inter-college Shakespearean production from the '70s. Mira was a student at Delhi University's Miranda House then; Shashi Tharoor, the undisputed star of St. Stephen's College. She's been asked about this picture on occasion during interviews. And I gauge from her responses before - it doesn't seem like she liked the college-kid Shashi Tharoor much! Did he throw big words at her? "Oh no, I just didn't like kissing him [in the play]. Back then, you know how it was - even if you got slightly physically close to someone, people would start cat-calling. It was ridiculous." As for the Tharoorosaurus bit, "Well, we used to tease Shashi [who hadn't lived or been abroad yet] about where he had got that accent from. (...) But he's always been a sport. He used to take it well!" (...)
Mira remains still one of the most critically acclaimed filmmakers - for a majority of her filmography. (...) Mira is formally trained in cinema verite - art/technique, mostly associated with documentary filmmaking, intended to convey realism. (...) The main muse for Mira's realistic lens was in fact the city of Bombay itself. (...) "Now they can call me a New York-based filmmaker in Bombay, but the fact is that not many saw Salaam Bombay, right under their noses. It was a life around us. When you live in it all the time, you can't see it well - having numbed yourself to it." This seamless transition from documentary filmmaking to fiction - something that writers of non-fiction find harder to be equally adept at - Mira admits, has helped define her work. And you can still sense strong stamps of it, even in later movies. (...) "Cinema of truth [cinema verite] sounds a little pretentious. It is very real, in the sense that you don't script everything. You just have to be humble enough to enter the world. Just be there. Of course your presence is shaping [the moment] to some extent. But it is also about being an observer to the situation, and eliciting things from [actors] - as they feel them, rather than you telling them what to say."
What this has also led to since her celebrated debut feature is - film after film, an established practice of casting 'real' people, as it were, or non-professional actors, alongside trained actors/stars, in the same frame. And watching this unique alchemy come to life on screen. For instance, Mira discovered Sarita Choudhury, who played Denzel Washington's love interest in Mississippi Masala, biking on a street in Cambridge once. She found Tillotama Shome (Alice in Monsoon Wedding) in the corridors of Delhi's Lady Shri Ram College. Even better, she picked up Kamini Khanna for a typically Delhi-Punjabi Shashi Aunty in the same film - spotting her on the walking track of a South Delhi park. Does she think everyone is essentially an actor then? "Not at all! It's about several things, but mostly instinct. I can tell immediately if the camera will love you or not. Or sometimes it doesn't matter if the camera won't love you, but can I use that in a way? Like [Pedro] Almodovar and his ladies are fantastic. And they so destroy the notion of what's beautiful before a camera. But the roles need that. So it depends on the role, of course."
While casting for Monsoon Wedding, she recalls, a newbie Vijay Raaz's face had caught her eye: "He'd walked in from the train station to (...) Churchgate. I don't know how I even remembered his name. Paresh Rawal, whom I admired a lot, had approached me for (...) Dube's part. We had a workshop in Delhi, which Paresh couldn't join. So then I had to take Tillotama [Alice] back to Bombay to rehearse with Paresh [Dube]. Naseer bhai [Naseeruddin Shah] had given us space above his flat for rehearsal. The door opened, and my eyes fell out. Paresh had gained 30 to 40 pounds. He looked like Alice's father, and this was supposed to be a love-story with him! (...) He said, 'I'll just lose [weight].' But we were shooting in literally four days! I just thought of the bald man with long ears and the widest mouth in the world, Vijay Raaz, and called him. I had not auditioned him, but I loved his look." The role expanded as Raaz came on board, killing it along the way. (This conversation between Mid-Day and Nair took place a day before Raaz was summarily arrested and subsequently bailed over a molestation charge on a movie set.) He's had a solid career since.
Several Indian actors in the Bombay film industry similarly owe their first frame on the big screen to Mira. Right from Nana Patekar and Irrfan in Salaam Bombay!. Late Irrfan, she always felt, was cut from a different cloth from Bombay's leading men in the '80s and '90s. He delivered, arguably, his finest work with Mira in The Namesake (2006). Or Randeep Hooda and Ram Kapoor, for that matter. They were debutants in Monsoon Wedding; bona fide stars now. Why, even Kamini Khanna! She's played multiple versions of Shashi Aunty in every other Bollywood movie. This contribution to the Bombay film industry in particular, I suspect, isn't acknowledged enough about the New York and Kampala-based filmmaker.
Even more than a keen head-hunter, Mira is an all-encompassing aesthete, wholly invested in cinematography, literature, production design, colours, costumes, the craft of moulding actors/characters... (...) Given the résumé and musical references seeped into her work, besides an army of previous recruits from among top Bombay actors, I'm almost amazed that in all these years, Bollywood folk haven't ever attempted to co-opt Mira with a grand scheme/project? "I am not looking for that either. But I have really lovely friendships. Yash Johar and I were very close. (...) I really respect Aditya Chopra's mind. I had taken him on an idea - not for me to do, but for us to work together on. But, no, I don't think so. I think they think correctly - that I just make my own movies!" (...)
A film that would've brought (...) [Mira] back to Bombay - her early muse, and that too with Johnny Depp - was the adaptation of Gregory David Roberts' Shantaram. Regrets - that the film fell through? "I only regretted that I gave one-and-a-half years of my life to it. And we really had a good thing going. Not, otherwise. They were starting it again, and I was not interested!" Mira also famously let go of directing the fourth Harry Potter film, for the sake of The Namesake. She declined The Devil Wears Prada, going by the same measure of what interests her - and what she can do, better than similar directors on hire. (...) Exuding power, all right, in an industry that when she entered it - doing theatre in New York during day, waiting tables at night - there were barely any coloured people around, let alone desis, or women. (...) Mira first got on the road, splitting rent for an editing suite at a basement collective for offbeat artistes in New York. This is after she had shot Salaam Bombay!. Which she knew the West had no similar reference point for. Spike Lee, same age, also editing his film, would pay the other half of the rent!'.
