Opinion

I Still Call Directors For Work, Says Manoj Bajpayee

Manoj Bajpayee, the Bihar-born thespian, now called the Superstar of OTT, tells Giridhar Jha that he still prefers to be known as an actor. Edited excerpts:

I Still Call Directors For Work, Says Manoj Bajpayee
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The phenomenal success of the first two seasons of The Family Man on Amazon Prime Video, besides a wide array of impact­ful roles in a plethora of other web series and movies streaming over the past year or so, has made Manoj Bajpayee, 52, the toast of the OTT industry. Looking back at his eventful journey in a candid conversation at his plush apartment in Mumbai, the Bihar-born ­thespian, now called the Superstar of OTT, tells Giridhar Jha that he still prefers to be known as an actor. Edited excerpts:

From Family Man 2, Suraj Pe Mangal Bhari and Silence…Can You Hear It? to Mrs Serial Killer, Ray and Dial 100, you have been on a roll lately, doing movies and web series that are quite ­different from one another. Aapne toh hungama barpa diya hai (you have created quite a buzz).…

The effort is to explore every genre and contribute in your own way. I had a long journey in theatre before my first film Bandit Queen (1994). Somewhere I felt genre is something that has nothing to do with actors. An actor should be ready with his craft and skills to experiment with every available genre, and just go ahead and collaborate with all kinds of directors, dealing with all kinds of ­genres, and try to fulfil the require­ments. It creates a lot of excitement and makes the cinematic journey quite fulfilling. I don’t judge any genre. I am equally happy whether I am working with Milap Zaveri (Satyamev Jayate/2018), Ahmed Khan (Baaghi 2/2018) and Abhis­hek Sharma (Suraj Pe Mangal Bhari/2020) or with Devash­ish Makhija (Bhonsle/2018), Dipesh Jain (Gali Gulei­yan/2017), Hansal Mehta (Aligarh/2016), Abhishek Chaubey (Ray/­2021) or, for that matter, Kanu Behl and Ram Reddy with whom I have been working recently.

How I adjust to the genre, how I put myself into a director’s work and look at the film as a project from his perspective, understand his vision and fulfil the requirements, help me in not being content. It challenges me and keeps me awake all the time.

Do you have to prepare ­differently for your roles when you shift from one genre to another?

You definitely prepare differently for different roles and for different directors. Now, it comes quite easily to me, to be honest. One has dreamt of becoming an actor by looking at Amitabh Bachchan’s films, and in my late 20s it was Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri’s work that fascinated me. Or, the work of Satyajit Ray, Shyam Benegal and Mrinal Sen, which helped me evolve as an actor. So, when I am doing a mainstream ­commercial movie, memories of the films of Bachchan, Shatru­ghan Sinha and Vinod Khanna come rushing back to me. This is my way of paying tribute to all those films that I watched in my childhood and got inspired.

When I am doing independent films, it is all the learning from watching the greats of parallel films that I try to put into the project. So I am truly an Indian cinema actor more than anything else, trying to justify just being an actor and nothing else.

You have always preferred to be known as an actor. But now you are being hailed as the Superstar or King of OTT. How does it feel to hear such sobriquets?

I feel happy to know that people like my work and look forward to all that I am doing. But these titles are not for me. I have been in the film industry for so many years without longing for these titles. They don’t do me any justice. If there were any superstars, they were Shah Rukh Khan, Sal­man Khan, Aamir Khan and now Ranveer and all these guys. I am simply an actor and I would like to be remembered as one. Nothing more, nothing less! All the time I am trying to justify that word for myself. Any work I am doing, be it The Family Man (2019) or Ray, or any film or web series I will be doing in the future, the ambition is not to be known as the superstar. What I look for is pure appreciation for my filmography. If I am ­contributing through my choices to the growth of ­cinema, it is better. The Super­star or King of OTT title should go to Pankaj Tripathi, Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Jaideep Ahlawat and other remarkable actors. I am learning every day from these actors and also from Malaya­lam actors. I am not making this up to sound humble. You can ask my ­family, this is what I do when I am at home—sit in front of the TV and watch some ­contemporary greats like these names I mentioned.

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I am also watching some ­international series or European films. They help me as an actor. I just hope the excitement to learn more and hone my skills does not go away because the process is so amazing for me. When I am preparing for the roles and trying out different things for the camera, be it in The Family Man, Hungama Hai Kyon Barpa (in the Ray anth­ology) or Bhonsle, that is the time I am feeling the ­happiest, more than the ­release and the marketing part of my films. I am very happy, excited and immersed when I am doing it.

The advent of OTT has made it possible for the global audience to watch your movies, which were earlier not available....

The best thing that has happened to my career because of OTT is the inclusion of teenagers as an audience. When they are watching and exploring my work, or asking their parents to show them some of my work, that is the true contribution of OTT to my career. It is so unique that an audience of their age is ­becoming aware of my work and looking forward to it.

Do you think the much-vaunted star system will not work on OTT? If so, what will be its impact once the theatres reopen?

On OTT, there cannot be a star system because the ­exci­tement for the content lasts only till the next comes. There are so many others in the queue. Every second film or series has something ­uni­que to offer. So, people sudde­nly get distracted and move on to the new. It is ­impossible to rule this ­platform. So far as theatres are concerned, you really do not know. At this point, everyone is guessing. None of us knows anything about the coronavirus. Its beh­aviour is changing. All of us are trying to understand what is there in the future for cinema in theatres. But I am sure that community viewing will never go away. It has its own excitement. It is like a picnic, going to a theatre with your family, buying popcorn, ­sitting in a dark hall, ­cheering. It has its own magic and it has ruled the planet for so long. It will never go away. But we cannot be sure that it will remain the same as in the pre-pandemic days. That’s not going to happen. People will be going back to the ­theatres, but their exp­ec­ta­tions will be different. Only the future will tell us what will be the difference. As for the star system, so long as theatre is there, it will be there.

OTT has opened the floodgates of opportunities for actors, but when you began in the early 1990s, an actor of your sensibility seemed to have hardly any place in the era of romantic musicals. How tough was it?

It was a very tough time. I had done Bandit Queen and also serials such as Swabhiman and Imtihan on TV. But a breakthrough was difficult. Then Mahesh Bhatt saw me in an episode of Swabhiman. He was quite impressed with my craft and also how I was doing the scenes. Though I did his Tamanna (1997), he confessed to me that he did not know what to do with me because I was neither a hero nor a villain. He said, “You are a good actor and I want to give you work, but I do not know what role to give you or what to do with your talent. The kind of films we are making have no place for you.”

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It was a difficult time for me, a time of self-doubt, a lot of suspicion about self, ­susp­ecting your own ambition and ability. It went on for many years even after Satya (1998). Satya had ­created such a buzz that wherever I went people were standing in queues to see Bhiku Mhatre. But I stuck to my belief of not playing a ­villain in com­mercial films. That caused a lot of hurt and ­damage to me and I had to wait for a long time for ­another project. It was not easy. I do not know how this whole OTT thing happened, but it definitely came as a blessing not only to me, but also to so many other­actors who were waiting in the wings for so many years.

How did you manage to ­create a different and ­independent roadmap for yourself?

Cinema in our country is not taken as a form of art, but as commerce. In that for­mu­laic setup, I do not think I ever had a chance. But I changed my own path and started going to the directors  I wanted to work with. By god’s grace, I had a name and credibility, so all of them somewhere showed a lot of respect and welcomed me. One of them is Neeraj Pandey (Special 26/2013). I had to find my own kind of movies, like Aligarh, my own kind of directors, like Devashish Makhija or Dipesh Jain, and go to them, requesting them, pushing them so that they could make a film with me. That is how the latter phase of my journey panned out the way it did before The Family Man Season 1 came on OTT.   

Now, with OTT, I feel the uniqueness in storytelling. People are trying very hard to tell stories in a different way. There are directors who have grown up watching world cinema and they are being welcomed. And when the makers and ­writers are giving liberties to actors like me, it will ­definitely hold the change because you have roles and you have characters that you can play, and even directors can think of you in the first place. Yes, it has given us a lot of oxygen.

From Shool (1999) to Zubeidaa (2001), you did a number of good movies after Satya, but a time came between 2005 and 2010 when you went through a lean phase in your career. From the acme of popularity after Satya to the time when you had no work, how did you handle failure?

It was a time of failure. It was a time when I was again pushed back into a hole and left to self-doubt. It was also a time to really introspect. How I managed to sail through those four-five years was terrible; terrible in the sense that whatever I was doing was not coming from my own belief. I was doing it because I had to keep my kitchen running. But I was not staying in Mumbai. I was mostly running away from Mumbai, conducting and ­attending workshops, ­reading, doing yoga and ­meditation, going back to my village more often. I kind of revived all of my past and where I came from. I decided to go back and learn again. It was like going back to the drawing board and dissect what went wrong and where you could improve. I was not frustrated or ­depressed; I felt anger ­because anger has ­always been my prime ­emotion. Not anymore, though. But that anger was coming to me to find an ­opportunity to come back. Also, that was the time I was calling up directors. I still ­remember that I rang up Dibakar Banerjee after Oye Lucky! Lucky Oye! (2008) and asked for a role. I called up Neeraj Pandey and asked for a role. If I liked a film, the first thing I used to do was ring up its director and ask for work. That used to be my everyday activity, getting up, having a cup of tea, taking a shower, doing puja and ­working the phone.

But many of them may not have called back....

Many of them did not. It does not matter, but somewhere I had to feel that I am no Manoj Bajpayee, that I have no great past and I am just a newcomer struggling for a role. I had to bury my glorious past and start reinventing myself. This is what exactly was done. My days used to be filled with activities, from ­poetry sessions, reading books, watching films and calling people for work. So it was a very fruitful time. The Manoj Bajpayee you see now is the outcome of those four-five years that many call a lean period, but I call it fruitful. I call it preparation time. And when Raajneeti (2010) happened, I was ready. I was not somebody who was called back from the black hole, I was somebody who was ­already preparing. When Prakash Jha called me for Raajneeti, that role gave me the meat I could sink my teeth into. Somewhere I ­believed that the day I get a good opportunity again, I will come back.

Do you still call ­directors for work?

Always. I still do. You will not believe it. There are established directors whom I call and ask for roles. There are some directors from independent cinema I want to work with and I call them. There are some directors I go to whose short films have ­impressed me. I must tell you that I saw a short film by a boy from Patna. He has never stepped into this industry, but made a remarkable short film. His sense of visuals stunned me. I connected with him through Twitter and I left a message on his DM. Today, that boy is working on a script. Tomorrow, if the script turns out great, I will do his film. This is the way I have been operating. This is the way I like to live, doing some exciting stuff with my own craft, with my own ­career. That keeps me ­engaged so much I really do not have the time to think about anything else like who says what.

So, remuneration is not an issue when you do small indie films, is it?

Indie filmmakers do appro­ach me and we settle the budget of the film to everybody’s comfort. We decide on budget and remuneration, and it is a very transparent thing that I have created with each and every filmmaker. Yes, I look for a raise in my ­remuneration, but I am not unwise. I am not somebody who is from outside the ­industry. I have been in the industry and have knowledge about budgets and the ratio of profit and loss. The budget is something I ­understand and that is ­always kept in mind. As far as expectation of the raise is concerned, it would ­definitely be there ­because ­people are watching, and if people are watching, the ­obvious payback is always in the form of money.

You left your village, Belwa in Bihar, to attain glory and an enviable position in the industry. How do you look back at your ­journey so far?

Recently, I was in my village with my wife and daughter. We could not—my wife still cannot—believe I have ­travelled that far. It all seems to be such a fairytale to me. For us villagers back then, to reach even Patna was a tough task. It was like a big dream. So, you can imagine what ­arriving at Delhi or Mumbai was like. It was miraculous. I cannot believe I survived so long and, by god’s grace, I am still here, doing what I want to do. If any friend goes to my village, even in my absence, they find it ­completely ­unbelievable that I could travel so far.

What is next on your platter?

There is a good line-up. I am excited to be working with all kinds of directors, some of the greats of independent cinema. Devashish and I have decided to collaborate again on another film. I am also co-producing two films hel­med by new directors. These are all kinds of films from different genres. Genre-skipp­ing is something very exciting for me. As I said, it doesn’t let me go easy and keeps me on my toes all the time. I love it.

This interview would not be complete without a query on the next season of The Family Man? How soon can one expect it?

I think they will start writing. They are also taking time bec­ause Raj and DK (the ­dire­ctor duo) are quite busy with Shahid Kapoor’s series that they are making. After this, they will start writing. One series equals three or four feature films. So, writing takes time. As soon as this is done and our dates are taken, we are on. We are not going anywhere so long as Amazon Prime Video gives us money to make it.

Mahesh Bhatt had once famously said you had done a Maradona with Satya, indicating you had already reached your peak with that film. But you proved him wrong with your subsequent performances in films like Pinjar, Gangs of Wasseypur, Aligarh and Bhonsle. How did you not get complacent after early success?

Just when Bhiku Mhatre bec­ame such a rage and people were going gaga over my performance, I was coming to a kind of resolve in my mind that I will not play a negative guy. Had I done that, I would have earned a lot of money and bought a big house, and then I would have been dead. Deciding to not go that way helped me a lot in not being ­complacent, and to keep going to the roles and characters I believed in. That one decision really saved me. I was not trying to prove anyone wrong. What people were saying was true. That wasn’t something that didn’t happen to people and they were right in ­thinking it would ­happen to me too. How that shouldn’t ­happen to me was up to me. It was in my hands. I ­decided I would be living my dream, not try to live somebody else’s dream about me.

(This appeared in the print edition as "I still call directors for work")