Stars in her eyes

LUNCH WITH BS/ Mira Nair

I hate air-conditioning and this hot-and-cold thing gets to me. I prefer humidity any day," says Mira Nair, settling into a chair at Mumbai's JW Marriott's pastry shop "" Bombay Baking Company (BBC).

She is clearly tired, having been up till the early hours, wrapping up the last song with Shankar, Ehsaan, Loy and "Javedsaab" (lyricist Javed Akhtar). This was for her latest magnum opus, Vanity Fair, William Thackeray's period tale set in post-colonial England, starring Reese Witherspoon, Eileen Aitkins and Jim Broadbent.

Only a couple of months ago, Nair was in India with her star cast to add finishing touches to the film. But this time, it is largely a personal visit that has doubled up as a business trip. She's here with family in tow "" husband Mahmood Mamdani, a Ugandan expert on African history, politics and international relations, and son Zohran.

In between, Nair, the maker of acclaimed films such as Salaam Bombay, Mississipi Masala, The Perez Family, Kama Sutra and the blockbuster Monsoon Wedding, announced her new venture "" International Behenji Brigade (IBB). It is a collaboration between Nair's Mirabai Films and Balaji Entertainment, the entertainment arm of the Pune-based poultry major Venkateshwara Hatcheries.

We are to meet at the business lounge but end up at the BBC, a good 15 minutes behind schedule. It's nearly 1.15 p m and Nair is famished. She's a foodie but today, the menu has to be simple. "I'm just feeling a bit under the weather," she says, clearing her throat. Something to drink? "Yes, tea for me," she says. I opt for fresh watermelon juice.

"Change mine to the same. And I want a chicken sandwich," says Nair. Unable to concentrate on an interview when I see food, I ask for a no-frills vegetarian sandwich. "Let me give you something nicer, a Lebanese sandwich," insists the waiter. "I'll have the same but make mine really exciting," says Nair, once again changing her order.

She uses her hands a lot, choreographing every word that tumbles out. For somebody who resisted anything to do with corporate people, how did she succumb to IBB? As per the contract, Nair is committed to make three films for IBB.

In fact, IBB has been part of Nair's life for the past 20 years. She's always had a bunch of women working for her in New York who informally called themselves International behenji brigade.

"It just embodies the spirit, the sass and the kind of force-of-nature aspect of the women I happen to work with," she says. So, is IBB going to make films for women, by women and about women? "Not at all," laughs Nair, "It is for women, for men and for the world. I make films that put bums on seats and IBB has the same intention."

After liberalisaton, corporations of every hue, including "globalised Indians" and venture capitalists, tried to woo Nair. "They wanted to brand me but I resisted. I'm not an entrepreneur and do not see myself as one. I'm an independent film maker, producer, director and writer, and most importantly, a mother and family person. To do all that together is enough for me," she says.

But, she claims, IBB is a different ball-game. The Harvard-educated Nair, who first made documentaries before moving into the world of feature films, has been teaching film at Columbia University for some time.

Now, that is what Nair digs. "We are not here to make esoteric, arty, removed-from-reality films that only few people see, films that will not lend themselves to commerce. I want to foster strong cinematic voices and speak a cinematic vocabulary that attracts masses. People mix it up all the time, especially here. It's not enough to make a serious film this way or the other. You have to wield the craft so people see it," she says.

But will a corporate entity like IBB let her have it her way? "It is entirely my mandate. I think they would have loved it if I were to direct them all. But I said that there are enough people who want to invest in my films," she says.

Our drinks arrive, and Nair flashes her warm, broad smile. The waiter is discreetly asked to get our sandwiches fast. That's because Nair's itinerary is chock-a-block. Then she's back on her favourite subject.

"There is so much explosion of talent but not enough harnessing, rigour, discipline and craft. That's when something that is good does not become great, especially apne desh mein," she says.

And what about the spate of Indian diaspora films hitting the screens in recent times? "I haven't seen many as they are a waste of time. But I'm pleased that people have the chutzpah and the drive to actually make these films. That's kinda interesting. But I can't say that I am standing in line to see them," she says.

Nair has just finished producing, and not directing, a feature-like documentary for friend Dinaz Stafford. "Of course, Dinaz made a jewel of a film but my working with her to make it what it was at the end really made a difference. It was a beautiful process and I thought, why not do this. I never thought of myself as a producer for other people," she says.

Last year, Nair set up Maisha, a non-profit film school in Kampala, where she has a summer home. When she came to India before that to discuss the idea of a non-profit lab, people said that "yahan to bahut scripts hain and we don't need to be taught script-writing. We need production companies."

"That's why I set up Maisha in Africa for south Asian and African kids. It will impart the craft, discipline and rigour of what I know as my craft. Maisha is not to be mixed up with IBB. It is the non-profit school and IBB is the production company," she adds.

It is obvious that Maisha is Nair's pet project. With the seed money coming from the Rockefeller Foundation, Maisha, which will kick-off in the summer of 2005, will select 12 kids for mentoring. And the board of mentors?

"A bunch of friends and directors like Sophia Coppola and Spike Lee are committed to making it real for me. Everybody in the business wants to come and do good. They just don't have the wherewithal and the infrastructure to set it up," she says, biting into her sandwich.

It wasn't like this always. Nobody wanted to touch Salaam Bombay when it was released. Today, there's no dearth of distributors for a Nair project.

"I don't pride myself on these things. I'm pleased Salaam Bombay is a classic and it fostered a style of turning to reality in India. We used to have it in the days of Madhubala and Dev Anand who walked and sang at Chowpatty. After that Bollywood became sterile since they were shooting in studios. Salaam was pretty much the first one to return to the streets but in a prettier fashion," she says.

What gives her a big high is that many have tried to copy her technique. "When I saw Satya, I liked it. There were so many films where the shots were picked up from Salaam. So long as people are exposed to the beauty of the reality of life, I'm happy," she says.

And Monsoon Wedding? "It was the first of its kind, and I was pleased about that," says Nair. But it very nearly didn't happen. Of the 30-days' shooting, four days of footage was lost to X-ray damage. Thanks to insurers, Nair's claim turned out to be higher than the film's budget.

While some scenes were digitally restored, many were reshot. "Every challenge has to become an opportunity, otherwise forget about it. With the money that insurance paid, I was able to augment it much more. They paid for rain in every scene, so it didn't look like a cheap, independent flick. The scene where the lover is seducing the girl and the police arrives, that's two acres of rain, baby. That's a big scene suddenly," she gushes.

By now, Nair has polished off her sandwich and her face is glowing. "I just finished with my yoga teacher upstairs," she says. A yoga addict for the past 20 years, she swears by the B K Iyengar school.

"I have a major appetite for life. And the rigour, the discipline and the lack of pretension he uses are similar to the words I use in film. It's about the basics, there's no hocus-pocus," adds Nair.

That's why, besides introducing a number of Hollywood directors to yoga, she always has a teacher accompanying her when she makes a film. "The cast and crew practice for an hour before call every morning and we do it even with post-production," she says. Why? She tells me that yoga helps everything. "It keeps one calm, focused, strong and humble," she adds.