Diff Celebrity Interview: Indian Film Director Rajiv Menon
Frames for a reason
Indian cinema’s tryst with songs and dance run back to the twelfth century, 
says Rajiv Menon,
adman, cinematographer and director. They are like sambhar or dal; you can’t 
take them out of
an Indian. The challenge is to employ songs for the right reasons. Rajeev Nair 
met him in Dubai

Rajiv Menon hasn’t directed a film in the last four years. And yet, it 
surprises him that his
last film, Kandukondein Kandukondein was picked up by the Dubai International 
Film Festival as
representative of Indian cinema, and only one of five in the segment. The 
Aishwarya Rai
starrer, inspired by Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, was also the only 
regional film in
the whole Indian selection.
His film got some back-hand publicity too, with Rai’s own Bride and Prejudice, 
another take on
Jane Austen’s work, gaining world-wide press, if not necessarily good reviews. 
That an Indian
filmmaker (Bride and Prejudice director Gurindher Chadha insists she isn’t 
Indian, nor does she
make Indian films) had already attempted Austen was another glowing tribute to 
the British
author, whose works find relevance even after two centuries.
In the last four years, Menon was wearing many hats. He wielded the camera for 
the film Morning
Raga featuring Shabana Azmi, did a few commercials most notably one for Air Tel 
with AR Rahman,
and also wrote furiously. He wrote three scripts; one going into six drafts, 
two running into
second writing. He also wrote innumerable three-page scenarios.
Now, he is ready, with a romance-thriller, a “different kind of film,” which 
could probably be
in Hindi.
Born in Kerala, studying all over India, accompanying his father, a naval 
officer, who got
transferred often, he joined the film school to study cinematography. Many ad 
films later, he
started off as cinematographer for Mani Ratnam’s Bombay before directing 
Minsara Kanavu (Sapnay
in Hindi) and Kandukondein…, apart from a few documentaries for Shyam Benegal 
and a short film
for Girish Karnad.
Menon has definite views of cinema, its structure and flavour. He doesn’t 
hesitate to conform
to the dictums of commercial cinema but he frames them for a reason.
He discusses his cinema in a free-wheeling interview:

It has been four years since you made your last feature, why the long gap?I 
have scripted my
next film, one that puts together both – romance and thrills. In between I also 
tried writing
two other films and making commercials, this one, for a living. I was very 
critical of the
scripts I wrote. In India, you don’t have freelance scriptwriters nor are there 
producers who
develop scripts. You have to write your own script and if you are not happy 
with it, especially
after five or six drafts, it is better that you junk it than you subject a lot 
of other people
to it. It must remain your agony.

Meanwhile, you had worked as cinematographer of Morning Raga. How does it feel 
to work for
another director, now, though you had started off for Mani Ratnam in Bombay?
As a cinematographer, there is a faculty in you that listens to you and just 
visualizes. That
is what I explore every day in my advertising work. When you hear something, 
when you hear the
words, you start to see where the light and darkness and pauses are going to 
come from. That
drives you to cinematography. Most people think cinematography is about what 
lights to put and
what lens to use. I think that it is about the kind of emotions that are not 
written, which you
would like to bring out. Today, I can feel better as a cinematographer but 
since I am a
cinematographer-director, many directors might find it intimidating. When 
Mahesh (the director
of Morning Raga) approached me, I thought: Why not, and that was it.

Do you feel you have been able to break the invariable potholes many admakers 
had found
themselves in with their switch to films?
I think Bombay was as non-advertising a film as you could get. It was about 
riots and there
wasn’t much pretty about the film. Yet, it had its moods. I don’t think I have 
a problem there.
But when I did Minsara Kanavu, every said it looks like an ad film, and a 
musical. I thought to
myself I would turn to a more heavyweight story next time around. That was 
Kandukondein. When
you start off, you aren’t aware of genres. Minsara Kanavu started off as a 
romance and ended up
in a melodramatic fashion. Kandukondein did not have that problem because it 
was Jane Austen,
and a story that survived 200 years. The basic matrix is therefore fixed. All 
you have is to
contemporise it. In stories, there is a basic sruthi (rhythm) of human 
struggle. If you can
zero into that and find a resonance that transcends time, you succeed.

What is your impression of Bride and Prejudice?
I haven’t seen the film.

In Minsara Kanavu and Kandukondein, you employ a lot of sets. When outdoor is 
much preferred,
almost the norm, why go for sets? Is it an ad hangover?
There is not much in Kandukondein. Yes, in songs, because songs are not 
realistic. And songs in
India have a different meaning; in fact, they present a strange problem. When 
you go into
Indian commercial film genre, songs explore the emotion that your character 
goes through. In
Western cinema, the dialogue is supposed to explore the emotional twist of the 
actor and the
screenplay is supposed to drive the story. In Indian cinema, dialogues move the 
story, and
emotions are explored through songs. Using songs, on the surface of it, is bad. 
It is as bad as
melodrama is bad. But then, the derogatory word, melodrama, is “melody and 
drama,” and if you
see it in that light, it becomes positive. With Indian films, songs serve a 
purpose that is far
removed from what we aim at. They could serve as fashion statements, for 
example. And in India,
today, your songs, your promo decide how many people come to the theatre. If a 
film doesn’t
open well, it is immediately written off as a flop.

So do songs serve that purpose for your films?
In India, at the moment, youngsters follow the promos, and for that, your songs 
better be good.

But don’t you think it is time that Indian cinema broke away from the 
song-dance routine?
We could. We should. But there are two ways of looking at it. Stopping the 
songs is as
important as you stopping to eat sambhar. It has very glycaemic value and it is 
not right to go
back home in the night and eat rice and sambhar. You must be eating wheat, or 
soup and salads.
But we say: “What is wrong with it? People have been doing it for centuries.” 
Singing and
dancing, similarly, has been our centuries’ old tradition of telling stories. 
In continuing
that oral tradition of story-telling, our biggest problem is that our narrative 
content is
wrong, not necessarily the narrative technique. You look at French films, they 
are very good
yet their industry is swamped by American films. But Indian film industry has 
not been affected
by America overtly because we are so different. In Tamil Nadu, there is no 
problem with
McDonald’s because our idli and dosha are far better fast food. If you have 
strength be proud
of it. But yes, it is wrong, when you use the songs for the wrong reasons. In 
today’s Indian
films, singing is all about falling in love. That makes it repetitive. It is as 
ridiculous as
seeing opera, you see serious kings and queens singing but you accept that as a 
form. You
accept singing as a form in Kathakali. Songs in Indian cinema are therefore a 
formative
problem, but it is also a formative device that makes it unique. I am not for 
one to say that
songs are bad. If your film is not a love story, you don’t need songs. If you 
make a thriller,
a war film, there is no need for songs.

So your next film, which is supposed to be a thriller, will not have songs…?
It is not just a thriller; it is also a love story.
Don’t you think Indian cinema has been pushing this too far? Every film is a
family-action-comedy-thriller…
Yes, it is a very big problem. But it is as much a problem as Indian food. In a 
thali, you have
at least nine dishes. Why? Why should you have them all? But that is the way we 
eat, that’s the
way we are. If you make a film that is one-dimensional, which does not involve 
love, people
don’t come to the theaters. The watershed in India in terms of aesthetics has 
been the
importance of the shringar rasa coming out somewhere around twelfth century. 
It, a product of
the bhakti movement, has taken over cinema today. Whatever they do, the hero 
has to fall in
love. Only when that happens, do women come to the theatres. The same formula 
is now coming to
Hollywood too. Take a film like Twister; it is about a man chasing a cyclone 
and they put a
love story there. Titanic is the ultimate love story. The ying and yang, the 
understanding of
man and woman, which we had cracked much earlier, is now being attempted by 
Hollywood. The
danger with us is the repetitiveness. All the stories of the society have to be 
explored. You
must find a balance in your narration.

Does it disturb you that Bollywood, the Hindi film industry, is being touted as 
Indian cinema,
and you find hardly any place there?
I am not agonized by the fact that I don’t represent Bollywood. Why should I 
be? I have not
made a film in four years. I made only two films and both have been well 
recognised. Here, in a
film festival in Dubai, you have a Malayali making a Tamil movie about an 
English story – what
more universal can it get? But what is worrisome is that Bollywood has come to 
mean merely
spectacle. It was not the case twenty years back. You had conflict in the 
cinema. You had the
angry young man. The problem in Bollywood is the absence of conflict. There is 
a celebration of
life but no conflict. Stories can’t go ahead with out conflicting interests. 
When that doesn’t
happen, your bandwidth becomes narrow, and you have to shout louder to be 
heard. You have to
make music, sets and colours that are louder.

What is your kind of cinema?
I like to have emotional power in my films. I like to go and really make 
somebody cry or laugh.

Do you like to take out extreme reactions? I like it. I can cry at a film. I 
cannot claim to be
sophisticated enough to hold back my emotions. I am notDo you probably expect 
the same from the
audience?You can't expect anything from the audience. I do something and I 
would be delighted
if the audience reacts to it, the way I like.

You have sort of walked the middle path in Indian cinema, where you have 
typically three kinds
of filmmakers: Arty, crass commercial and those who balance between the two? Do 
you think it is
time we spoke of cinema as just good and bad, filmmakers as just one?
The basis of democracy is to have people express themselves. We are a free 
country. We ought to
have as much width in our creative expression as there can be. So if you say 
there are three
kinds of filmmakers, I would for one say, why only three, why not more. But the 
issue is in how
our film industry is structured. People like Mani Ratnam and I have to 
incorporate songs in our
films to reach out to a larger audience. Cinema cannot wait for centuries to be 
discovered. I
can only make a next film if the current one works. I have a moral and 
functional
responsibility to reach out to as many people as I can. That makes me explore a 
wider palette,
more talent, more actors, better sound and light. And songs too. But the true 
reason why I
should do a song should be because my story demands it. That is not happening.
In India, there is also a transformation in the theatres. There are no more A, 
B and C centres.
The C centres are fast closing down. And there used to be A, B and C kind of 
films, which
required a prescribed duration of run at the box-office for each. Today, all 
films are expected
to do well. The stakes have gone up. This has pushed smaller filmmakers out of 
the scene.
State-sponsored cinema is also come down. Anyway, I don’t think it is the job 
of the state to
make cinema. We see defeated filmmakers go and become serial makers. Earlier, 
people could get
away with bad editing, acting and filming because they had a good story. Today, 
the stories are
there on television. What you need is a film that is so engaging visually that 
audiences are
pulled out of their house into the theatre.

You have a god sense of music…
I didn't work for it; it was in my genes.

Are you repeating AR Rahman for your next film too?
Yes, we have been friends more than anything else. We are close to each other. 
When he wants to
model, do Air Tel, he doesn’t have to trust anybody else. He calls me. I really 
think he is
very talented.
What gives you the kicks – advertising or cinema?
If I ask you, what gives you the kicks - writing a novel or doing this 
interview, obviously, it
would be writing the novel, isn’t it?. In doing cinema, you are using all your 
faculties and
exploring areas that you can't chalk out in advertising. I do advertising for a 
living. During
day I make advertising and in the night I dream of cinema.

You are from Kerala, but haven’t done a film in Malayalam? Do you feel like an 
outside in the
Malayalam film industry?
It just happened that the stories were suited for Tamil. And anyway, I am not 
recognised in
Kerala. You go to temples and you suddenly have this person who comes up to you 
and asks:
“Aren’t you Rajiv Menon?” Invariably, he would be a Tamilian. I would love to 
do a film in
Malayalam. I like Basheer and MT (authors) but I have to get into a groove and 
meet the right
kind of people, find the right kind of story about contemporary Kerala. I don’t 
know how many
films capture that spirit now.

As a cinematographer, what is your favourite colour?
Blue… Kandukondein has a lot of blue. In fact, I created an Indian weeding with 
no red. The
whole Kannammpoochi song is a palette of the peacock feather. In Tuhi re, the 
song from Bombay,
I used blue and green. I like yellow too; it is like sunshine. But I have not 
been very
confident with red.

Would you ever do a film in black and white?
I would love to…

Do you dream in colour?
When I was studying at the institute, I was taught that we dream in black and 
white. One night
I dreamt in colour and I got up and shouted: “It’s in colour.” That is the only 
occasion I saw
a “colour dream.”

Are you hesitant to cast new actors?
No, but when I cast an established actor, I try to see him in such roles that I 
have not seen
it before. This spontaneity in a role is easy with new actors. All directors 
actually act out
and actors are expected to mimic you. That is not direction. It is letting 
something happen,
let the magic come through. It is the spontaneity. Directors must make the 
dialogues pop out on
screen and make audiences feel that they have seen it, felt it some time in 
their own lives.
Then that barrier between the screen and you breaks…

But with Aishwarya Rai, who is not necessarily described as a great actress, is 
it easy to get
that kind of spontaneity?
She is Miss World. She is pretty and she is worried of her looks. You have to 
tell her not to
worry and deliberately create imperfections. Sometimes, perfection can be a 
bane; it can make
things seem sterile. You must make it look real.
Who are the actors who have amazed you by their spontaneity?
I have liked Naseerudhin Shah in Monsoon Weeding. Tabu has such dignity; 
Manisha was very good
in Bombay; Kajol has so much energy; I like Ajith in some scenes; then there is 
Mammootty,
Mohanlal…

Do you think that despite being immensely talented our actors aren’t well 
utlised?
The bane of Indian cinema is poor writing. The true sense of a film’s 
architecture must come
through in the script not in the décor, stage and lighting. Look at Malayalam 
cinema: Mammootty
and Mohanlal peaked when the directors Padmarajan, KG George and Bharathan 
peaked. I guess you
need a different set of directors to bring out the best in our actors.

Who among our directors would you go back to when in doubt?I have always adored 
Guru Dutt's
Sahib Bibi Aur Ghulam, I have seen it many times. I have also loved Satyajit 
Ray's Charulatha
and Pather Panchali.

So, at heart, are you the old school guy?
Yes, I guess... I can't say of a recent film, which I would like to see again 
and again. I
would probably say that I liked Godfather, Apocalypse Now...- those are my kind 
of films.
No films in Tamil or Malayalam?
In Tamil, yes, Thevar Magan... But then its architecture is basically that of 
Godfather in a
feudal setting…

Guess, at the end of it all, we have only one essential story…?
Yes, Godfather is perhaps the story of the prodigal son. The obedient son dies, 
and the one who
doesn't get along is the one you have to transform. If an obedient person takes 
on the mantle,
where is the conflict?

Would it be true to say that more than love, it is conflict that drives your 
films?
I would say, it is conflict that will be driving my films. I cannot say I had 
this knowledge
while doing my earlier films. I have been reading a lot on dramatic writing of 
late, and I am
influenced profoundly by the works of Joseph Campbell, a mythologist, who wrote 
Hero with a
Thousand Faces.

http://rajeevsnair.blogspot.com/2005/10/diff-celebrity-interview-indian-film.html

"We neglect our cities at our peril. For, in neglecting them, we neglect the 
nation."
-John F. Kennedy




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