Through the fourth wall, lightly

Tripping across the imagined barrier, from director calling the shots, to actor and audience.

A truism yes, but one of the most alluring aspects about mortality should be the enthusiasm with which we take on new things. I never say no to anything extraordinary that comes my way; heck, I even go out of the way to grab something – or someone – if rare and unusual. It is up to us whether to live out our lives siloed derps, or live up, a sensory rigadoon. 

Reel life matter

When the opportunity came knocking to be in front of the camera, I jumped at it. A big budget, solo starrer, ‘in and as’… it was none of these. But at best you might go ‘hey, is that…?’, shrug and move on. (Karma bites: As a kid I remember making fun of those ‘character’ actors whose roles I defined as ‘staring’ as opposed to the ‘starring’ ones.) It had been a few months since I made my last film or have been out there; nowadays, in the corporate way, I watch news and imagine travel – and not all is kosher here.

This an account of a personal journey, seeking and sharing in equal measure. One of the finest directors in the ad film industry, a great crew, beautiful sets, and a co-star who looked just the part. Of my son, that is. Yes, as we know, boldness has genius in it. And as we will find out there is magic too. But to find that, we need to set out first.

Direction – A give and take

Filming a series on the responsibility initiatives of a corporate behemoth, I once had to recreate company-funded activities for the camera under various verticals including agriculture, education, and road construction. I personally dug out several tapioca roots till I got the right size; cracked jokes from sidelines till the school-going posse was jovial enough; and would have driven the tarring machine if only I knew how to. 

Inspiration in osmotic mode. With director Vinod.

Today the old noob me sat with the director behind the monitor watching the floor arranged into a living room where the father and son would be watching cricket on television through different emotions. There wasn’t much in terms of motion, though, so no reason to miss the mark. Probably why he didn’t look worried. However, we discussed references, cues, and postures. Circumlocution was ruled out with this fantast, just an outline of the intended outcomes leaving room to improvise. I was feeling like a veteran already. The faith he had in me, or probably in his assistants who briefed me, was marvellous.

The rapport bridge

Max looked like my son and played my son. He studied in tenth class and was in the school football team. His parents are well-off yet he doesn’t have his own mobile phone. At the shoot he was using his mother’s phone on which he was reporting to his father everything including my offer to take him out for lunch after pack-up. It was his father who saw the casting call on the Instagram handle of the production house and got Max’s elder brother to apply on his behalf. 

With Max, my ‘son.’

Once we ran out of sports topics – my knowledge of football stopped with Maradona and Roberto Baggio and more recently Ronaldinho’s ‘pneumatic drilling’ abilities – I began pestering him about his girlfriends. ‘Whom would you be with?’ I asked hm. ‘A girl who loves you or whom you are in love with.’ The chum looked me squarely in the eye and said having two girls in the first place is itself wrong. The doxastic dignity, I was glad he at least looked like my son.

The Signature Bridge in Delhi, among the prettiest in the country, is made to look welcoming from miles away. An architectural and engineering marvel, I shot it coming up over the years. Many interviews and cutaways were canned at the most scenic point of the bridge – the viewing gallery at the very top. The open lift, fastened to the scaffolding, rising rickety against the raging winds over Yamuna floodplains set the background of many enduring friendships forged.

And some great scenes too.

Mise-en-scene

The first time I applied this widely used but hard-to-define device was while shooting a film for a toy manufacturer. A bit of an abstraction in itself, conceptually this gives production a sense of order, pretty much useful for the film I was making. The departments were myriad and far-flung and key personnel on every wing. We designed a shop floor out of the display area in the factory by adding manufacturer logos in strategic positions – where the camera would follow the young mother (a factory staff) and her wards (friendly kids from the neighbourhood). Ingenious production methods on a roll; the alternative was to shoot abroad. 

I kept staring at this, the video village.

The ‘video village’ at the ad shoot was a chaotic lesson in production design. The ancillary activities of a film shoot evidently provided more employment than the shoot itself – from carpenters and porters, to electricians, welders, cooks, and helpers. A guy walked around pouring out different beverages at different times peering at us with the gravitas of an ostler in an ancient inn. We didn’t even have to neigh but look in his direction and soda, juice, sherbet, or tea would appear.

I hung around the under-construction set getting into the frame.

Last look, first take

None of my shoots had a makeup artist; they were not needed. There is no puffery and powder puffing in corporate and development films. The closest I ever came to having one was when filming the Netherlands ambassador for a spice route documentary commissioned by the country embassy – I held up my mobile front camera for the dapper gentleman to straighten his necktie. The interview was sharp, just like his suit. There is an evident correlation between fab dressing and fleek bytes, I tell you. If the subject is shoddy, be prepared for some exasperating cajoling and dragooning.

Magicking me into somebody else.

The makeup artist for this ad shoot was an industry veteran, a simon-pure, who assured me he has done enough to cover up a balding patch. Then there was a partially missing brow that got scraped off from a motorcycle accident which has been fixed. The small boil on my forehead has been camouflaged amply to blend in with the surroundings. It did occur to me that it could also mean the rest of my forehead could now resemble the Namib desert with its many dunes and one Dune 7. But I didn’t dwell on it.

Because here I was, going through an exciting rarity, and for a change with the camera pointed at me.