It was in 2022 that Bugs Bhargava Krishna suggested we convert my play, Pune Highway, into a movie. 'It's cinematic. The time is right. Audiences are hankering for good stories, and OTT is here to stay,' he said, adding, 'But can you raise the dosh? It will then truly be an independent film. We make the movie on our terms - no interference, no committees, and we take as long as we want.'
I sold my mother's jewellery, comprising one ring and a necklace. 'You have the money, Rahul?' my father asked, through steely eyes. 'I'm not lending you moolah for a film about three buddies. If you add some dames, you can break one of my FDs.' Fair enough.
'Any item numbers?' I shook my head vociferously. 'So, it's an 'inty' film?' - his abbreviation for 'intellectual' meets 'intense'. 'What's the film about?' he asked.
'Pune Highway is a crime thriller, a buddy mystery... a whodunnit that morphs into a whydunit.'
'Stop quizzing him, Sylvie,' my mom said. 'We have an early Jehangir Sabavala bought for ₹740 in 1950. It'll be worth significantly more now.'
Bugs and I sallied forth towards the windmills. I was armed with Syd Field knowledge, lots of advice from 'legends', and even a course at FTII. Bugs is three films old. We were ready, and everything made sense. Until...
...the day we began shooting.
No one told me that an 8 am-8 pm outdoor shooting shift in December isn't 12 hours. A late sunrise means you begin shooting at 10 am, and an early sunset means pack-up is at 6 pm.
No one told me that, as you're fighting to finish the day's work, the sun is setting. But at that moment: a plane flies overhead; the camera's memory card is full; an actor asks you a question; the sun disappears, and you don't have all the shots you want.
No one told me you can spend two days capturing a sequence on camera, only to ruthlessly chop it out of the film during editing. 'We wear one hat while we shoot, and another when we edit,' Bugs told me.
No film institute warns you that the process of making a movie can take 21/2 years, from screenplay to show timings, from page to poster.
No one ever told me that your independent film is up against the tsunami called 'distraction'. The same weekend you plan to launch in cinemas, you might come up against an SRK starrer, a Southern remake, or a horror comedy... or a war thingie going on outside.
Your trailer may be trippy. But will the audiences come? All the rules I've learnt in advertising hold me in good stead. You've got to somehow cut through the clutter. 'Why should I watch your film?' 'Does it have songs?' 'Does it have stars?' I am asked. What I do know is: it's a captivating story.
What no one told me is there's an insidious component called P&A. I thought I was done paying once the film was ready. No such luck. Paul Anderson, director of Boogie Nights and There Will Be Blood, once famously said, 'Only 40% of filmmaking is the actual film.'
And no one warned me that it comes down to one Friday, your release Friday. No one ever warned me that tickets go up for sale 48 hours before.
So, where will we be next weekend? Bugs and I will be running all over town, catching shows at Metro in Malad, maybe hopping across the highway to Pune to sit among cinema-goers to get a genuine feel: Are they laughing? Are they on the edge of their seats? Are they busy trying to guess the killer? No one warned me that 10 days from release, India would bomb terrorist camps in Pakistan.
So, on that critical Saturday, on May 17, while hopefully hordes will throng to cinemas to catch my debut film, where will I be? Well, I'll be at the Mahalaxmi Racecourse, watching Guns N' Roses.
I sold my mother's jewellery, comprising one ring and a necklace. 'You have the money, Rahul?' my father asked, through steely eyes. 'I'm not lending you moolah for a film about three buddies. If you add some dames, you can break one of my FDs.' Fair enough.
'Any item numbers?' I shook my head vociferously. 'So, it's an 'inty' film?' - his abbreviation for 'intellectual' meets 'intense'. 'What's the film about?' he asked.
'Pune Highway is a crime thriller, a buddy mystery... a whodunnit that morphs into a whydunit.'
'Stop quizzing him, Sylvie,' my mom said. 'We have an early Jehangir Sabavala bought for ₹740 in 1950. It'll be worth significantly more now.'
Bugs and I sallied forth towards the windmills. I was armed with Syd Field knowledge, lots of advice from 'legends', and even a course at FTII. Bugs is three films old. We were ready, and everything made sense. Until...
...the day we began shooting.
No one told me that an 8 am-8 pm outdoor shooting shift in December isn't 12 hours. A late sunrise means you begin shooting at 10 am, and an early sunset means pack-up is at 6 pm.
No one told me that, as you're fighting to finish the day's work, the sun is setting. But at that moment: a plane flies overhead; the camera's memory card is full; an actor asks you a question; the sun disappears, and you don't have all the shots you want.
No one told me you can spend two days capturing a sequence on camera, only to ruthlessly chop it out of the film during editing. 'We wear one hat while we shoot, and another when we edit,' Bugs told me.
No film institute warns you that the process of making a movie can take 21/2 years, from screenplay to show timings, from page to poster.
No one ever told me that your independent film is up against the tsunami called 'distraction'. The same weekend you plan to launch in cinemas, you might come up against an SRK starrer, a Southern remake, or a horror comedy... or a war thingie going on outside.
Your trailer may be trippy. But will the audiences come? All the rules I've learnt in advertising hold me in good stead. You've got to somehow cut through the clutter. 'Why should I watch your film?' 'Does it have songs?' 'Does it have stars?' I am asked. What I do know is: it's a captivating story.
What no one told me is there's an insidious component called P&A. I thought I was done paying once the film was ready. No such luck. Paul Anderson, director of Boogie Nights and There Will Be Blood, once famously said, 'Only 40% of filmmaking is the actual film.'
And no one warned me that it comes down to one Friday, your release Friday. No one ever warned me that tickets go up for sale 48 hours before.
So, where will we be next weekend? Bugs and I will be running all over town, catching shows at Metro in Malad, maybe hopping across the highway to Pune to sit among cinema-goers to get a genuine feel: Are they laughing? Are they on the edge of their seats? Are they busy trying to guess the killer? No one warned me that 10 days from release, India would bomb terrorist camps in Pakistan.
So, on that critical Saturday, on May 17, while hopefully hordes will throng to cinemas to catch my debut film, where will I be? Well, I'll be at the Mahalaxmi Racecourse, watching Guns N' Roses.
(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this column are that of the writer. The facts and opinions expressed here do not reflect the views of www.economictimes.com.)
