‘Outwardly He Looked Rude, But Inside He Was Like Chocolate’ Mumbai: In an exclusive conversation, Viveck Vaswani remembers fighting to cast Nana Patekar in Raju Ban Gaya Gentleman, his special bond with a young Shah Rukh Khan, and the warmth behind the actor’s intimidating screen image. Nana Patekar has played some of Hindi cinema’s most intimidating characters, but behind that famously stern exterior, there is another side to the actor that audiences rarely get to see. Film

The loss of a true friend; the vanishing of a rare stream of humanity Kolhapur: As the 1970s dawned, the romantic era of Rajesh Khanna was beginning to give way to a new cinematic mood. Then came Prakash Mehra’s Zanjeer in 1973, and Amitabh Bachchan emerged as the country’s quintessential “angry young man”. Young India was ready to wear Bachchan’s image around its neck like a talisman. At about the same time, away from the glare of stardom, an earthy Marathi actor named Nana

Mumbai: Maharashtra has lost an actor who never really belonged to the glittering world of cinema. Nana Patekar belonged to the street, the stage, the small rooms and crowded trains of Mumbai, to the Maharashtra that understood hardship without making a spectacle of it. He carried that world with him throughout his life. Even after becoming one of Indian cinema’s most recognisable actors, there was little polish about him. His was a face carved by experience, a voice sharpene

Some actors rely on glamour and good looks to make history; others create history purely through the strength of their craft. Nana Patekar belonged to that rare second category. From his humble beginnings in coastal Maharashtra, to becoming one of the most formidable performers in Indian cinema, his journey is a masterclass in grit, instinct, perseverance, and raw talent. Growing up in Murud, a young Nana grappled with deep-seated insecurities about his appearance. Living wit

Mumbai: There was always something cheerfully disarming about Vishwanath Gajannan Patekar, alias ‘Nana’ Patekar. For all his on-screen intense, raw and authoritative performances in over 100 films, he himself would easily puncture his awesome stardom with naughty jokes and naive smiles. Nearly two decades ago, when the actor agreed to sing a couple of jazzy rap numbers for “Horn OK Pleasss!” (2009), he displayed the same self-deprecating humour that was so quintessentially Na

Separated by 55 years and radically different philosophies, Satyajit Ray and Christopher Nolan found remarkably similar cinematic ways to make the elusive nature of time visible. A still from Ray's biting classic Mahapurush (1965) “Gentlemen think alike!” is the proverb that resonated in connection to what Nolan recently said while praising Satyajit Ray's work; and with cinema’s timeless exploration of scientific and philosophical concepts. Let me direct you to a piece of dia

Mumbai: Spider-Man continues to enjoy phenomenal success at the Indian box office, highlighting the country's enduring fascination with Hollywood superheroes. But the craze also raises an important question: Has Bollywood missed the opportunity to build its own superhero universe? India has produced memorable superheroes like Shaktimaan and the Krrish franchise, while Indian comics are home to several iconic characters. Yet, unlike Hollywood, the Hindi film industry has not c

Mumbai: For all the progress Hindi cinema likes to claim, one uncomfortable truth keeps returning to the surface and that is, the industry still does not know how to build women into lasting theatrical phenomena. Alia Bhatt’s Alpha is only the latest reminder. The mixed reaction to it at the box-office and the negativity on social media has exposed something larger than BO arithmetic. It has reopened the old question of why female-led films in Bollywood are still treated as e

The decision by censors to withhold the Diljit Dosanjh-starrer Satluj from Indian audiences scarcely forty-eight hours after its release has elevated the film into a political cause. The controversy is now about how India chooses to remember one of the bloodiest chapters in its post-Independence history, and whether memory can survive when it becomes selective. The film chronicles the work of Jaswant Singh Khalra (played by Indian-American singer Dosanjh), the activist who in

Cinema frequently departs from historical reality to serve narrative and emotional needs. Cinema has served as a powerful medium of blending history with storytelling to create emotionally compelling narratives. The representation of history in cinema oscillates between fact and fiction. It raises questions on authenticity, interpretation, and artistic freedom. Bollywood has shown fascination with historical themes and grand empires like the Mughals and other kings and kingdo

There are films that critics unanimously consecrate, and others that, despite critical derision, retain a strange and enduring grip upon memory. Such ambivalently received films are cherished with an almost irrational devotion by those who encounter them at the right age and the right mood. The Cold War yarn ‘Ice Station Zebra’ (1968), from the nerve-wracking novel by thriller maestro Alistair MacLean, belongs firmly to the latter category. I watched it during adolescence whe

The first thing that struck me about the story was how implausibly modern it sounded. A filmmaker in India obsessively listening to an obscure dream-pop track from Los Angeles. An actor with ten million Instagram followers casually asking the internet if anyone recognised the song in his post. A comment beneath it. A reply. Then, within forty-five days, a film was born. Most films begin with financing decks and market calculations. I’m Not An Actor began with taste. Aditya Kr

Cinema ceases to interpret reality when it begins to shape how that reality is understood. There is a reason history is easier to watch. Even when it is selective, dramatised, or quietly biased, history comes with distance. It allows us to engage without feeling implicated. We can question it, critique it, even reject it - but we are not inside it. The present offers no such comfort. When cinema focuses on the present, it ceases to be a secure narrative space. It starts shap

Pinjar literally means “cage.” But the word can be expanded to mean more than a cage. In Rudrajit Roy’s debut film, the title refers both to birds, the bird-catcher and to other characters held captive in the larger and invisible cage called Life. “Pinjar is about captivity in its visible and invisible forms. It asks whether freedom is an external condition or an internal awakening. It does not provide solutions. It observes, reflects, and invites the audience to confront the