At the time of writing, filmmaker Anurag Kashyap has made one soul-stirring film that stimulates: Black Friday (2004). He has made one atrocious film, No Smoking (2007), which could have been mind-bending yet gratifying if the story had been realised to its potential. Instead, it was akin to watching Jaws, only to suddenly find the protagonist played by Roy Scheider wake up in the middle of a desert and discover there was no shark, no sea but sands all round.
Kashyap’s maiden effort as director, Paanch (2003), has not seen the light of day — it probably never will, unless he chooses to release it worldwide in the years to come. It was sabotaged by the film censor board in India. And Kashyap in the interim rubbed all people concerned the wrong way.
He has even dabbled in animation with Hanuman Returns (2007). His passion for the craft overall–of telling a story–it cannot be disputed. Modern cinema perhaps hasn’t had an Indian lover this passionate. And this, I gathered, even before seeing any of his films.
It came from seeing the calibre of his writing. He had crafted two wonderful scripts, Satya and Kaun in the mid 1990s. His partners in crime, Vishaal Bharadwaj and Abbas Tyrewala, would touch loftier heights.
Vishaal, Kashyap and Abbas were collaborating in Ram Gopal Varma (RGV) projects in different capacities. Back then, RGV had a hold over his art. Vishaal composed music, Abbas contributed with episodes for Darna Mana Hain among other lesser-known writing efforts. It was a writers’ communion, and each mind was to unleash and/or direct Maqbool, Munnabhai MBBS, Black Friday, Omkara and Hazaaron Khwaaishain Aisee.
Another hint into the incubating nuclear reactor that is Kashyap came from an insightful interview of his in the magazine known as Gentleman. This was in 2001, when the magazine was on its last legs. By the account in that publication, Kashayap knew his history, was well read, and seemed to recognise what he wanted to measure himself against. His allegiance to personal roots in Varanasi and to the mastes (regardless of form and language) was apparent. So the hopes were high.
Years later, I saw Black Friday.
Subsequently, after catching a handful of Kay Kay Menon performances in several films, I could only create Paanch in my head. Menon as the life-lorn rock vocalist, some gripping music, and the heavy-headed Kashyap do make for a dark flick of some standing, I have reckoned.
Still, along this path, Kashyap has faltered. In No Smoking, he placed himself several steps above the subject of his film, expecting us in the audience to be in awe of his gimmickery with the camera. I searched hard for the story, but the whole film occurs in flashes. Only its theme survives!
His battles with the critics further has compounded his condition. Why waste time on those who don’t understand the limits of their craft? Instead, Kashyap took offence and reacted foully. All he needs to do is remember the man he was until Black Friday was made. And move on… and on. The critics will come, but there are so many stories Kashyap has to still tell.
Dev D his redemption song with bated breath, just as I did prior to No Smoking. Kashyap’s fundamentals are in place: his allies for creative storms, a rare sensitivity, his own mind, and his sensibilities.
Long may he live to tell us more stories! This reactor of creativity may have just attained critical mass.
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