The director is fresh and happy from her Cannes experience, where she showed Manto and also participated in the women’s march on the red carpet, led by Cate Blanchett and Agnès Varda, calling for equal pay and representation in the film industry.
Nandita speaks about her Cannes trip, her inspiration for the Manto, why she chose his life and its relevance today, plus her creative journey as a director and producer.
What was the experience and feedback at Cannes like, showing Manto?
We got an overwhelming response, both from the audiences and critics. Cannes is a rare festival that actually caters to film professionals and not general audiences, so they are very discerning and exposed to world cinema.
Initially I felt the excitement and nervousness of a director whose film is going to be screened at the most prestigious film festival in the world, with toughest-to-please audiences and critics. Strangely on the day of the premiere, I was neither euphoric, nor nervous. Just happy. The fact this film actually got made is a miracle. For it to be in the Cannes Film Festival was the second miracle.
After the film, we got a four-minute standing ovation. Some strangers hugged me, some sobbing, some rather sombre. Some just sat in their seats still immersed in the experience. Some chose to walk out quietly, as if not wanting to break their experience. Six years of relentless work and challenges had finally found their culmination. All in all, I have returned with great sense of gratitude for the kind of response the film has garnered. This year’s Cannes was like no other year.
Describe the feeling of standing among 82 women in that historic event and moment at Cannes? What was going through your mind before, during and after?
It was an incomparable feeling, being on the Cannes red carpet with only women and that too with editors, screenwriters, producers, sales agents marching alongside the usual suspects. All of us wore small badges that said ‘50/50 by 2020’. While it is unlikely that we can achieve this dream in two years, the demand for equality has been expressed, loud and clear. It cannot be ignored anymore.
After walking up the stairs, we stopped midway. Actor and this year’s jury president, Cate Blanchett, and Agnès Varda, the Nouvelle Vague French filmmaker, read out their impassioned speech. They said, “Women are not a minority in the world, yet the current state of our industry says otherwise… As women, we all face our own unique challenges, but we stand together on these stairs today as a symbol of our determination and commitment to progress. The stairs of our industry must be accessible to all. Let’s climb.”
And we did. To the top of the stairs. Some teared up, some smiled with pride, some squeezed the hands of the ones they were holding to show their solidarity, to express their excitement on this momentous occasion. On reaching the top, a spontaneous gush of emotions and choked voices began to fill the air. We hugged each other. It didn’t matter that we were strangers. The feeling of sisterhood was so strong that it felt most natural.
A young producer who held my right hand burst into tears. She told me that in the last 48 hours she had worked relentlessly for this initiative, and couldn’t believe that it had actually happened. The woman on my left apologised for her cold hands, a sign of her excitement. She said this was the most significant thing she had ever been a part of. It gave her a sense of purpose. Next day she came to the Manto screening and gave me a hug that conveyed more than any word of solidarity could have.
I have returned from Cannes stronger, having been part of the 82-women march who pledged to hasten the process. The onus needn’t be only on the women to speak up and be part of the #MeToo campaign. Our dream for an equal world must be seen collectively. It must be a shared dream, a call to action because the #TimesUp.
Why did you choose to tell Manto’s story and creative journey?
What drew me to the story of Manto was his free spirit and his courage to stand up against orthodoxy of all kinds. I have always felt most deeply connected to his deep concern for the human condition. No part of the human existence remained untouched or taboo for Manto. His faith in the redemptive power of the written word, through the hardest times, resonates with my own passion to tell stories. In some mystical way, I feel I am part of this hopeful legacy! Through him, I feel I am able to kindle my own conviction for a more just and compassionate world. I feel there is Mantoiyat (Manto-ness) in all of us: the part that wants to be free-spirited and outspoken.
How was your writing journey for Manto, given the scope and length of his creative life?
My research is based on his writings and some from those who have written about him. Many have helped me in the process as I don’t read Urdu and there are difficult words that I don’t understand. There is a long list, starting with Mir Ali Hussain, who was a consultant on the script, and strangers like Saeed Ahmad from Lahore, who has now become a friend. Manto, the husband, the father, the friend; these relationships I could only understand through the important nuggets his family shared with me.
Manto died young, at 42. Two people who knew him were his sister-in-law Zakia Jalal, who also features in the film, and a well-known Pakistani writer Mr. Intizar Hussain, who passed away recently. The book written by Manto’s grand niece, the eminent historian Ayesha Jalal: Pity of Partition – Manto’s Life, Times, and Work across the India-Pakistan Divide (2013) was one of the first gifts I got from the family. Jalal also wrote on Manto’s centenary along with Manto’s youngest daughter, Nusrat Jalal.
The whole process of researching and writing was time consuming and hectic, but that’s what formed the backbone of the film. And this journey has attracted so many ‘Manto’esque people and that has enriched my life, and the film.
Tell us about the significance of those four years of Manto’s life.
The film follows four years (1946-1950) of his life, which in many ways are his and the Indian subcontinent’s most significant years. It is as much a story about two faltering cities – Bombay and Lahore, the Partition that saw the greatest mass migration in history as it is about one man trying to make sense of it all.
Was Nawazuddin Siddiqui your first choice for playing Manto?
I always had Nawaz in mind while writing Manto. Firaaq, my directorial debut, was his first significant role in a feature film. In 2013 at Cannes, when I was in the short film jury and he was attending the festival for Monsoon Shootout (2013), I told him about the film. They say if you get casting right, 70 per cent of your job is done; with Nawaz that’s exactly what happened. He looks and feels the part. He has an incredible range as an actor, but intrinsically Manto lies somewhere in his eyes – it was almost an obvious choice.
I brought in my research from books and many gems from Manto’s family. Nawaz brought with him his life experiences and his talent. Together I think we have managed to bring out many subtleties and nuances to the character of Manto. Also Nawaz has many traits that are similar to Manto – deep sensitivity and intensity, anger, and a straight face sense of humour. These innate qualities have helped him transition into Manto on screen effortlessly. There were many magical moments with Nawaz during the shoot. And I truly feel that our actor-director relationship has struck a perfect chord. This is so important in a film like this.
How relevant is Manto in today’s Indian political and social context?
Manto was relevant then and will sadly continue to be relevant for a long time to come. Not much has changed. We are still grappling with issues of freedom of expression, and struggles of identity. Almost 70 years later, our identities lie inextricably linked to caste, class, race and religion, as opposed to seeing the universality of human experience. Manto shows us a mirror like nobody else does. I know he would have had lots to say about the times we live in.
For me, making the film Manto was not just about telling people about him but to invoke the Mantoiyat that I believe all of us have, whether dormant or awakened. I think people will see themselves more nakedly. It will make them uncomfortable in a way that hopefully they would want to do something about it. After all, we all want to be more truthful, courageous, empathetic and free-spirited. And Manto inspires us to be that.
Hamida Parkar is a freelance journalist and founder-editor of cinemaspotter.com. She writes on cinema, culture, women and social equity.
This article was edited by Culture and Media Editor Geetika Pathania Jain, Ph.D.
This article was originally published on June 14, 2018.