Always wondered when I’d have the opportunity, and now I have a bound script, co-created by Bugs and myself.
Illustration/Uday Mohite
I’m sitting in an Innova, with my friend, co-writer, co-director, and mentor, Bugs Bhargava Krishna, hurtling down the Pune Expressway, recce-ing for locations. We’re making a movie, ironically called Pune Highway. His fourth, my first. It’s based on a 2004 play I wrote, he happened to also star in it. The production travelled the world, and all those years ago, Bugs thought there was a film in there, I resisted for many reasons—Wasn’t prepared for celluloid, in the early 2000s, story tellers didn’t stand a chance, the star system ruled, selling out that first critical weekend, songs preceded releases, the expectations were immense—films had to have iconic actors, item numbers, everything was bottom-line driven, imagination seemed to take second place. Nuance of any kind was at a nascent stage. But then the streaming platforms flowed in, got themselves streamlined, soon armchairs replaced plush velvet seats. Rs 499 a ticket became Rs 499 a year subscription. Box office was replaced by the idiot box in your living room… and soon content was king, audiences demanded cerebral entertainment, cinema releases suddenly had pitfalls, including boycott demands to go along with the box office ones.
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The Internet became a far safer place to launch a film, and a guy like myself, felt he could dip his toes into the vast ocean of OTT and yet reach a wider audience with his offerings. So circa 2021, when Bugs suggested once again a film like Pune Highway, and the fact that he would lead the way, made it more palatable, less intimidating.
Pune Highway is a whodunnit, a whydunit with an emotional core. The story stretches over three timelines, enveloping South Mumbai and Satara… it explores the “at times light hearted, at times dark edgy criss-crossness of three childhood friends”, played by Amit Sadh, Jim Sarbh and Anuvab Pal, faced with an unexpected murder. In short, a dart edgy thriller.
I’ve always told dramatic stories, via dialogue, on a primarily static stage. In cinema, the camera does the work, with words assisting.
I’d always enjoyed reading screenplays, Chris McQuarries’ Usual Suspects, David Fincters’ Fight Club, Woody Allen’s scripts, with the ‘EXT.INT. DAY. NIGHT” of the Final Draft format. Always wondered when I’d have the opportunity, and now I have a bound script, co-created by Bugs and myself.
I’ve loved cinema over the years. Never quite understood its science, when you use a specific lens to maximise an emotion, the challenges of telling a story via a camera, the benefit of multi settings, the opening out of your palette. In theatre you seek to transport audiences to multi worlds via static/movable sets and lighting; in film, the universe is your universe, the world is truly your oyster.
Bugs talks to me of film being a series of actions, the decision of where you place your camera is vital—Darius Khonji’s grungy work in Se7en, Alexander Innaritu and Chivo Lubezki’s sense of seamless story telling in Birdman—when to keep the camera static, when to move.
We’re stopping at toll nakas and treacherous side roads and while I’m appreciating the beauteous terrain that is our Maharashtra, I realise there are two hours of footage to be captured.
As we wind our way, down a mud road leading to Bhor, Ry Cooder’s slide guitar in Paris Texas goes through my head, the lonely blues sound to create solitude and desolation. We reach our desired location, two hours later, Bugs and Deep Metkar our Director of Photography, jump out. Bugs tell me, “Rahul, a location will speak to you, it will say ‘come shoot me, place your camera here’. Always listen to your chosen space.”
The lake in front of us, with its expanse of water speaks to us, in a language that is languid.
I am about to tread into the unknown, led by someone who knows, who warns of the pressure that awaits us, but reassures me that the feeling of filmmaking, nothing quite like it in the world.
Wish me luck, dear reader, as Bugs Bhargava Krishna and I begin the epic adventure that is Pune Highway.
Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com