The actor insists he does ‘commercial’ cinema but not formula films - Hollywood movies his uncle Dharmendra and cousin Sunny Deol brought home inspired him to think differently.
Before the interview with actor Abhay Deol begins, Susan B Landau, producer of Road, Movie, shares with me some of the still photographs that she’d taken of the actor during the film’s shooting schedule. These also include pictures where Deol is addressing the media; at a radio station; sipping coffee; drawing cute caricatures on mugs; preparing for a scene. Soon, Susan and I are giggling like infatuated schoolgirls, describing Deol as, well, “hot”, “cool”, “dishy”, “phew, hunk”, writes Abhilasha Ojha.
Later, when I meet Deol, the quintessential pin-up poster boy of Film Festival cinema, he’s in the middle of quite a few things. He’s fixing up a massage appointment for himself at Taj Palace, Delhi, where he’s staying; wrapping up another photo shoot (I sense that he tends to get a little self-conscious); figuring out next day’s appointments.
What’s primarily on Deol’s mind, though, is how audiences will react to his latest film, Road, Movie. “It’s a film that appeals to the universal audience. It’s simple, not very long and most importantly, it’s a subtle film. I hope it succeeds,” he says. But does subtlety work in Bollywood? “Subtlety works better abroad,” he says. Why does he say that? “Our films,” he sighs, “work, by and large, on melodrama and escapism.”
But why does he do only “niche” cinema? Shouldn’t there be hardcore commercial Hindi films in his kitty? Where is he in the number game of “heroes”? None of the queries perturb him but he admits that “getting slotted into a mould (sic) does bug”. “I belong to a family of films so I know how an image can be thrust on an actor,” he says. It’s a reason why he decided to tread carefully. “We live in an industry where actors in their 40s are still trying to pass off as guys who are in their 20s,” he smiles, adding, “When I did Manorama Six Feet Under, I played a 40-plus character.” But why did he essay the role of Satyaveer so early in his career? “Navdeep (Singh, the director of the film) and Devika Bhagat (the writer) have been my friends for a long time. They weren’t convinced so it was to prove them wrong that I wanted to do the film,” he says.
By now, Deol’s ditched the couch, preferring to stretch out comfortably on the marble flooring of his room. Taking a bite of a chocolate cookie, he points out: “Journalists always ask me, ‘aap commercial film nahi karte. Kyun? (You don’t do commercial films. Why?)’ And I always correct them. All my films are commercial. They aren’t formula films.” He quips: “There’s this perception that I do films that no one comes to watch and that don’t make money. So, very conveniently, I’m called alternative, niche and different.”
So, what sort of an actor is Abhay Deol? Some of his films like Honeymoon Travels Pvt Ltd, Oye Lucky!Lucky Oye!, Dev.D, for instance, have done well critically and commercially. He shrugs: “In Indian cinema, you should know how to do drama, action and romance, you should know how to show off your body. I swim a lot and I do yoga. But because I don’t do weights, people will gasp, point their fingers and say, ‘Wow! He’s alternative.’ Similarly, if some of my movies don’t have song-and-dance routine, people say, ‘I’m different.’ Sometimes, it really is as simple as that.” But is he doing anything to change that perception? Deol ponders, “Maybe I’ll do a formula Bollywood film to be different.” Something like Golmaal Returns? “Oh no, no, I wouldn’t do that,” he laughs heartily.
Deol — dressed in simple white shirt and blue jeans when we meet him — grew up appreciating works of Peter Sellers and Stanley Kubrick, while quietly — and firmly — eliminating a whole lot of trashy Bollywood films from his movie-watching experience. Quite ironical, I remark. After all, he’s the nephew of Bollywood actor Dharmendra, the “dhishum-dhishum” star, and Sunny “dhai kilo ka haath” Deol is his first cousin. So, Bollywood’s over-the-top action flicks, with little or no common sense, are something, which, one would imagine, must’ve been routinely discussed at home? How could he have escaped watching all those films for so many years?
Deol, sipping his coffee sans sugar, answers instantly: “I escaped because I came from a filmi background.” As a 10-year-old, he says, he was exposed to world cinema and Hollywood films because of his uncle and cousins. “Sunny bhaiya would get these amazing films for me to watch,” says Deol while I choke on my cappuccino imagining Bollywood action hero Sunny Deol diligently bringing back films like Brazil, Blade Runner, Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining, apart from film series, including Star Wars and Indiana Jones, for his kid brother. “So, as a 10-year-old, I stopped watching Hindi films completely. I never went to the cinema halls to watch those films ever again,” he grins. Why was he so opposed to it? “I hated the portrayal of women in Hindi films. ‘Why were they given those horrible gyrating dance steps? Why were they made to look so vulgar?’ I realised that I was complaining and judging these films — watched by a large section of audiences — and that’s why I decided that it would be safest to stop watching them altogether.”
That Deol talks passionately about cinema is — for want of a better word — an understatement. He, in fact, finds watching movies “spiritual”! He has a child-like enthusiasm and a twinkle in his eyes while talking about some of his favourite films. “When I watched Peter Sellers in Dr. Strangelove, I was astonished at the human potential to perform. I realised then, that, cinema was a very, very powerful medium,” he says. Then, when he watched Blade Runner, Deol says that he felt “enlightened”. “I never thought you could mix spirituality with films. I loved the music and the imagery of Blade Runner, I loved the thrill of that film. But the thrill, I realised, was getting translated into enlightenment. Hindi films hadn’t made me feel the same way.”
But, isn’t it ironical that Deol is working in the same industry which robbed him of rich experiences as a passionate viewer of cinema? He pauses for a second and answers: “I cannot make it in Hollywood. It’s a difficult environment to struggle in. The way I talk, walk, everything about me is Indian, and so I wanted to come back and work here. Yes, I’m swimming against the tide even here but I do feel that we do need to bring about a change in the films that we make,” he says. The change, Deol promises, is taking place. He adds with quiet pride, “We may be working within some restrictions but we’re still paving the way for a newer generation.”
He says that he has a career plan for himself. “For me, scripts should be original and I should be able to relate to characters that I’m supposed to play. In our films, because heroes are larger-than-life, they’re constantly made fun of. I’ve always wanted to be myself, be normal without snubbing other films. But, at the same time, I also don’t want my conviction taken away from me. I don’t have to be predictable. I don’t want to,” he says firmly. Perhaps, that’s why Deol, while working on films, doesn’t rehearse too much. “What works for me is spontaneity because somewhere the audience also recognises it subconsciously,” he explains.
He’s only recently been roped in by LG for the company’s range of mobile phones with John Abraham and Genelia D’Souza. This year, Deol’s big release will be Ayesha, a film he’s done opposite Sonam Kapoor, and which is produced by Anil Kapoor. What’s more, his love affair with caricatures, t-shirt designs, metallurgy (for which he was in New York), carpentry, storyboard writing, and his three dogs (“They’re with my parents in Punjab right now) continues unabated.
What’s next on the agenda? Deol munches on another cookie and shrugs his shoulders. He may not know what else awaits him, he rarely plots and plans. But wherever he’ll go, we’re sure, the spotlight will continue to follow him.
