From a shy filmmaker, he’s come a long way. He’s cast some of the biggest stars of Bollywood in his films, including a casting coup in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham . He’s brought some of the most glamorous faces of the industry to the couch on his popular talk show. And he has now added another feather to his cap, earning the praise of critics with an assured debut as Kaizad Khambatta in Anurag Kashyap’s Bombay Velvet . He has also just inked a three-year nine-film deal with Star India pegged at Rs. 500 crore. But as a filmmaker, Karan Johar is deeply disturbed — not by Bombay Velvet ’s debacle at the box office, but by a phenomenon that he feels is eating away at the soul of cinema. He speaks to Satish Nandgoankar about the Rs. 100 crore mania.
Everyone’s talking about what a disaster Bombay Velvet is, how much it cost and how little it made. Since when have numbers become such an important part of film discourse?
Ever since cinema’s birth, it has always been about how you balance art and commerce. In mainstream cinema, art and commerce, the eternal workings of filmmaking, have always been sectionalised. Commerce has been the prerogative of distributors, of producers. But as the media has become more powerful, the box office has become a huge talking point. Information is out there to review. It has suddenly become a barometer to judge a film.
Does it happen with every film?
I found it strange when someone came up to me when Bombay Talkies was scheduled for release, and asked me if it would make Rs. 100 crore at the box office. I was shocked that anyone could expect an ensemble of short films to be a Rs.100 crore omnibus. That’s when I realised that Rs.100 crore had become the barometer in evaluating a film.
How is this obsession impacting filmmaking?
This doesn’t happen anywhere in the world. A film may not work at the box office due to multiple factors, but does it become a lesser film? The media should also take the onus for what’s happening. This terrible habit of comparing two films is perhaps in our DNA. Two films have different features and different box-office values. I love Indian cinema in all its splendour — its drama, its melodrama — and I am not apologetic about it. But why does it have to be about its box office? You can call Bombay Velvet a mishap, a debacle, a disaster. But why would an audience stay away from it because they “heard” it’s a debacle?
Do you think social media is responsible for this?
No other country has as many box-office portals and websites on cinema as India does. I can sit on my computer at 11.30 in the night on the day my film releases and see the box-office figures. Everyone on Facebook and Twitter is asking, ‘What do you think will be this film’s opening day collection?’ I am shocked that there is so much emphasis on box-office numbers. Where is the opinion of an ordinary cine-goer; where is his decision to watch or not watch a film? What is more tragic is that all this box-office talk is killing the opinion of an average cine-goer.
Did Bombay Velvet become a victim of this obsession?
Bombay Velvet was attacked relentlessly for three days after its release. I was like, ‘Can you worry about the Nepal earthquake? About bad governance or economic policy? Can you just leave Bombay Velvet alone, please?’ There are so many national and political issues to worry about. Why would you talk about the box-office expectation of a film at the dinner table?
You and your father always dabbled in mainstream cinema, and the business of cinema. A good film meant that it would appeal to the audiences and make the box office ring. Did you feel this pressure of numbers when you made your debut?
Yes. At Dharma Productions, the idea was to make a successful film. We had a fair idea of what will work with audiences, and we made films accordingly. But what the opening numbers of our films would be, we didn’t know. We depended on distributors for this. They collected this information and gave it us. Today I can get the approximate collections of my film on my computer on the night of my film’s release. Now we have research. We have agencies like Ormax which organise pre-release feedback from audiences. Everything has boiled down to net collection figures, occupancy percentages, the total business of a territory. Everything has become so completely mechanical, whereas making cinema is all about the heart.
Has this coincided with the industry’s expansion – increase in digital screens, wider releases, better theatres, more revenues and so on?
This obsession with numbers started around 2006-07, and has grown since. Unfortunately, I don’t see it stopping anytime. This mad obsession is now a part of our reality. We are no longer about films but about numbers. The longevity of a film has nothing to with its box-office numbers; it has to do with its content. Great cinema remains in our collective memory because of its content, not because of its box-office collections. But today regular audiences are talking about the numbers. How does it confront them? They base their opinions on what they read. Earlier, there would base their opinion on reviews by film critics. Now 3,000 people review your film online. Columns and columns are being written about the opening of your film. They are not talking about how an end credit song must be added for better opening. Where did the screenplay go? We are all, me included, responsible for this. The soul of cinema is being sold to the box office.
As the senior filmmaker, what did you tell Anurag Kashyap?
Anurag has never chased the box office in his career. He is simply not in that zone. I spoke to him, I spoke to Fox Star, for they bled the most. What was amazing was that there was no blame game in the Bombay Velvet team. Neither was the filmmaker blaming the studio nor the studio blaming the filmmaker. There was great dignity behind the scenes, internally in the unit. There was no dignity externally. There was enormous negativity outside, and a celebration of failure.
How do you see this numbers game impacting filmmakers? There was speculation that Anurag was planning to bid goodbye to Bollywood?
That speculation was triggered by a report that said Anurag was considering taking a break and moving to Paris for a while. If we lose a filmmaker like Anurag, we will lose good content in mainstream cinema. This year has actually been a victory for an audience. We have had films like Piku and Tanu Weds Manu Returns doing well. A dark noir like Badlapur has grossed Rs. 50 crore. Eventually content is the king. Even internationally, Birdman and Whiplash were not the biggest blockbusters, but they provided the oxygen that the entertainment industry needs. As an industry, we need to acknowledge this template, and adapt it.
Is it true that there is a dip in footfalls in cinema halls, and the film industry is witnessing a slowing down?
Yes, there is a dip in footfalls. There is a marked shift in cine-going habit. Word of mouth has become important. Even for films like Piku and Tanu Weds Manu Returns , the audiences didn’t exactly rush to multiplexes on the first day. They went to watch the films after they heard a strong buzz. So, there is a shift in how audiences approach a film. There is a focus on analysis, and they wait it out before deciding to watch a film. There is an economic shift, too. There are several portals of entertainment available to the audiences now, and cinema has become one of them, but not the only one. TV is the new film, and it is much cheaper a medium.
satish.nandgaonkar@thehindu.co.in
