‘There remains every possibility of a poetic reflection in my work’

Bengali filmmaker Bratya Basu’s ‘Hubba’ has become a superhit film among audiences, especially Bengali fans. The film is a biopic about notorious gangster Hubba Shyamal, played by popular Bangladeshi actor Mosharraf Karim.

In a conversation with ‘Millennium Post’, the film’s director chats about ‘Hubba’, the shades of symbolism used in this film, his love for poetry and filmmaking and much more.

‘Hubba’, which is now the talk of the town and directed by you, starts with a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche. As you said earlier, you read ‘Goyendapith Lalbazar’ written by Supratim Sarkar (IPS) while you were shooting your fourth film, ‘Dictionary’. Do you think, after reading the real-life story, the philosophy of Nietzsche started haunting you?

I read the translation of ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra’, written by Nietzsche, at a very tender age. I read the actual book later. Only nine copies of this book were sold until Nietzsche breathed his last. Later on, the book gradually became popular and Nietzsche was considered one of the greatest philosophers of the century. If I say that I understood his philosophy of nihilism in its entirety, then I would be wrong. Nietzsche tore down the façade of human beings and at the same time, he expected a superhuman to be born among mankind.

In my script in ‘Hubba’, two characters come face to face, both of whom are nihilists: DIG Dibakar Mitra and Hooghly’s don Hubba Bimal (name changed). Therefore, these two people have some characteristic similarities between them. Dibakar is a post-colonial elite, whereas Hubba is a post-colonial subaltern. One is working under the purview of the law and the other wants to take the law into his own hands. One believes abiding by the law is his duty and the other feels breaking the law makes him proud and for this, he doesn’t care to stoop to dacoity, murder and what we call anti-social activities.

Hubba, at his younger age, gets a job offer as a daily labourer in an old cotton mill on his father’s recommendation, where his father works too. But he refuses to accept it as he decides to live on his own terms, like ‘Jeena hai shaan se’. Hubba bumps into a DIG CID whose job pressure mixed with family tension and anxiety makes him psychologically bipolar. Both get involved in a war. In the interrogation room, when Dibakar comes to know about Hubba, enjoying two wives’ companions, he gets triggered. He hallucinates being called Hubba too. On the other hand, Hubba, in his later life, wants to settle down, taking political shelter to protect his illegally earned wealth. At the same time, he wants to elevate his class to compete with the elites. Again, Taposhi, Hubba’s first wife, knowing her daughter isn’t getting the legitimate share of wealth, takes the help of the system to enjoy the shield of law.

When you are raising the issue of the dual between Dibakar and Hubba, the difference between two women in two different families surfaces. One is Taposhi, who is fearless, an extrovert and cares less for his family and society, whereas Dibakar’s daughter, though much younger than Taposhi, contrastingly appears to be very docile when her mother is suffering from mental illness or depression. Why didn’t you give much importance to building Dibakar’s daughter’s character?

See, this is not a novel. It’s a cinema. Secondly, the young girl is aware of her mother’s mental health situation and she also knows her father can’t live without her. So, she always remains close to her mother.

‘Hubba’ is undoubtedly a new genre of Bengali filmmaking. It’s getting more and more popular over time. What do you think is so special about your filmmaking that’s making a universal impact among all sections of people?

I’ve made the cinema primarily blend innocence with complexity. The audience will enjoy the thrill in both linear and non-linear forms. I have amalgamated the indoor and outdoor shots in such a way that they capture the cultural and social changes of Bengalis over the past 30-40 years. Maybe, the right potion of all these parameters when presented on screen has created the impact, which is generally missing in other Bengali cinemas. Obviously, the making of this cinema is quite different from the usual pattern generally followed in Bengali cinema. That can be the probable reason for liking the film.

In ‘Hubba’, the class of people that you project is somewhat different from other Bengali films. For example, you take reference to the romantic film ‘Sagar’ to highlight the romance between the younger Hubba and his girlfriend. Sometimes it appears to be ridiculing the romance and the melodrama shown in ‘Sagar’.

Not at all. This illustrates a celebration of the particular film and the time. The fantasy of the young couple gets a touch of reality in that time frame. It’s a parallel feeling.

The way you have woven the film with the scenes of metaphors, dark humour and endless satire resembles more of a symbolic approach to modern cinema. It reminds me of the iconic film director Luis Bunuel, who said, ‘Generally all my pictures have humour and I would be more comfortable being considered a comedian’. Bunuel is considered the father of symbolist cinema. In ‘Hubba’, a sense of strong sarcasm circles around every turn of the story. There are especially some effects where realism and symbolism appear side by side. You have painted these idealisms so effortlessly and spontaneously all through your cinema. When the film ends with a song, ‘Nive jay nijeri chena agun, nive jay…’, a sense of guilt makes our hearts heavy. It forces us to scramble through our past to find out the actual reason behind the rise of such a demon in our society. This is absolutely symbolic. After watching the cinema, I can’t help but call you the ‘Bunuel of Bengal’.

If you compare me with Bunuel, people will reproach you more than me. No, I can’t be simply compared with Bunuel. Bunuel’s artistic self rebels against the bourgeoise and he takes the side of a class, which is his signature. I have never taken a side in my cinema. Another distinctive character of his artwork is atheism, which renounces Catholicism. He once said, ‘Thank God, I am an atheist’. When Bunuel worked, bantering against morality, sexuality and religion, bourgeoise was reflected in the artiste’s work, but times have changed now. You know, in the last stage of life, he became absolutely deaf. Yet, most surprisingly, he continued making films. I wonder how he did it and it’s really unbelievable or rather amazing. Bunuel, to me, is like a god. I don’t want to be compared with Bunuel.

No, I didn’t literally compare your work with Bunuel, but I was talking about the shade of symbolism, which definitely reflects in your work.

If you talk about symbolism, I think Tarkovsky is more symbolic in his approach than Bunuel. Bunuel’s sarcasm can still be realised but in Andrei Tarkovsky’s film, the same idealism takes a spiritual high. I want to reiterate the commonality between the two characters, Dibakar and Hubba. It’s their loneliness. They are ultimately loners. Therefore, they are creating violence and I want to see it with compassion. Probably for this reason, you are feeling the heaviness in your heart at the end of the film.

When you raise Tarkovsky, it reminds me of his younger age. When he was a kid, he had different dreams than other children. His nonage was quite understandable at his age, but his mother wanted him to be an artiste. So, she made him read books only. How was your childhood in this regard?

Nobody forced me to read books. I started reading at a very early age. I was a voracious reader. Whatever was available around me in my house, I used to gulp it without any inhibition. When I grew up, I started reading ‘adult’ books like ‘Lolita’, ‘Tropic of Cancer’ and ‘Maupassant’ Bel-Ami’. I finished reading those books when I was in sixth or seventh grade.

Your film talks about the value system in the society we live in. As you know, the value system is constructed at different time frames in our society. I see violence in interpersonal relationships and social violence as well in ‘Hubba’. How do you conceive of such violence in morality too?

Yes, these are present in the film. For example, when the CM arrives at the party leader’s daughter’s wedding, when the leader asks his associate to change the ‘shehnai’ to Rabindra Sangeet, when the younger Hubba slaps his own father and again when he kills another stranger to earn some piddly amount. You see, many ‘supari’ killers don’t dare to kill in exchange for a paltry sum here in our country.

Leave alone the physical violence. Some emotional and structural violence is also noticeable in your film, which is also prominent in your theatre.

It’s true. Taposhi confides in Dibakar and takes legal refuge after Hubba is killed. Dibakar also refuses to take responsibility for her elderly mother. This kind of structural violence exists in our society, rather than in every nook and cranny of the world. The moment Taposhi realises she may be deprived of Hubba’s wealth as Mitali is younger and more beautiful than her, she connives with the power to reach her target.

In ‘Hubba’, running away from his school, young Bimal takes a plunge in a pond, naked. We have also seen in ‘Awdya Shesh Rajani’, the famous Bengali play you directed, that in a surreal environment, a blue horse appears again and again. We experience the poet Bratya Basu in these situations. In this cinema, your cinematic expression meets your poetic fervour. How do you always find the way in different art forms?

Yes, I love reading poetry. I write poems, too. Therefore, there remains every possibility of a poetic reflection in my work. But it comes spontaneously from within. If you have felt the presence here, I must mention poet Bhaskar Chakraborty’s lines, ‘Shitkal kobe asbe Suparna, tin mas ami ghumiye thakbo, amar bhalo lage na, Suparna…’. A morbid and romantic poet weaves his words, hiding behind the cast of loneliness. He addresses this to a girl named Suparna in his fantasy, whom he yearns to spend some time with. The same poet, at some other time, writes another poem, ‘Amaro majhe majhe ajkal kamuk hote ichhe kore, je oi meyetike giye boli kapor tolo dekhi…’. If I have used any poetic motif in ‘Awdya Shesh Rajani’, Bhaskar Chakraborty’s former lines of poetry best describe that and ‘Hubba’ is best connotated with the later set of lines of the same poet. To be more precise, there is a sense of making a mark in ‘Hubba’. You will also find similar types of motifs in other poet’s works, like Shakti Chattopadhyay and others. These feelings can’t always be expressed in words.

You have promoted actors on stage, promising writers, translators and orators in Bengal. You have always ignited the artistic souls you work with. While directing a film, you have promoted stage actors, the majority of whom have never faced the camera before and we have seen some scintillating performances by the stage actors time and again. Does it not put extra pressure on you as an artiste because you do it for the sake of other artistes?

It’s difficult to say anything in terms of my duty to society. All I can say is that I have been nurturing the art form of theatre in my soul from a very young age. I have experienced the uncertainty and bore the pain of not being recognised by society and in the process, possibly, I have transformed into a complex person in reality. From a very early age, I have seen people living on their own islands in the name of theatre and creating unwanted complications. You, being associated with theatre, are also a part of it. And to tell you honestly, I want to get out of these complications. I find it more liberating to do this.

Let me take up the point of controversy created out of the language used in your cinema, ‘Hubba’. It is, to my mind, the hypocrite Bengali’s hangover of old value systems. Even novelist, Moti Nandy once mentioned in his essay that a litterateur like Rabindranath Tagore too dares not put the right word in the right place, be it a use of slang or expressions of sexuality. Do you think Bengali will ever be able to come out of this prejudice?

You see, one can’t deny the fact that the conscious use of invectives in ‘Hubba’ is the typical language of the underworld. These are commonly used words in all sections to some extent. The controversy of expressions in an art form is being created by some pseudo-cultural honchos out of jealousy. This is absolutely farcical.

As you rightly pointed out, we still get to hear this kind of conversation from a group of young students, even these days. Nowadays they use it often fearlessly, but the same people find malice when it is used in any art form.

Moreover, the film has been judged by the crusader of moral values, named the censor board. They have certified it as ‘A’. I, therefore, don’t feel the urge to talk about this topic anymore.

Do you think joining politics has helped you bring focus on common people or a gangster like Hubba?

Joining politics has definitely given me an advantage. It has provided me a platform to take a closer look at the values of life. I can now empathise with an IPS officer too. I have tried to use this lens both from inside and outside the system for my creative work. Politics has worked as a catalyst for my better understanding of mankind.

You have expressed your views on how you feel calmer after making a film than after finalising a stage play. How do you deal with the tension after producing a film, especially if it gets leaked on social media?

I was worried about the leak, but somehow it has been managed. As a matter of fact, this isn’t in my control. It’s the responsibility of those dealing with film technicalities. If you talk about the success of the cinema, I believe the audience is the best judge. I made ‘Dictionary’ that dealt with sublime truth and finer feeling. Before making ‘Hubba’, I was confident about its success.

You have written a chapter on ‘Company Theatre’ and you are the only playwright, actor and director who is the pioneer of a paradigm shift in theatre. You have increased the price of theatre tickets. You used banners/posters across the town to make your theatre production visible. This time too, your cinema has been released across the US, Australia and Bangladesh. Moreover, before the film ends, ‘Bratya Basu’s 5th film’ appears on the screen. Do you have a different idea running in your mind about how to make parallel cinema popular?

This is of course the benefit of globalisation. I have grabbed the opportunity. You see, even some 20-25 years back, billboards were hardly seen across the streets. Our production house has used this very popular approach of marketing. And regarding ‘Bratya Basu’s 5th film’ on screen, it is widely used in foreign cinemas, then why can’t I use it here in my Bengali film?

How did you conceive the idea of making such contrasting films like ‘Dictionary’ and Hubba? You worked mostly indoors in ‘Dictionary’ but in ‘Hubba’, you took both the indoor and outdoor trail.

I made ‘Dictionary’ after 10 years of my third cinema. Then I had a plan to script a forthright simple but intriguing tale that would be heart-rendering. During the making of ‘Dictionary’, I read ‘Hubba’ and decided to do it after ‘Dictionary’. When I made ‘Raasta’, many people loved it but that created a level of dissatisfaction in me. So, I wanted to flourish in a cinema like ‘Hubba’ that would fill a void in my heart. Since I love doing outdoor shooting in a frame of reality, not through VFX-kaleidoscopic frames basking in various colours, I chose ‘Hubba’.

We have found the rawness in your last two films hypnotising. This is definitely making a mark on a new genre of filmmaking in Bengal. My best wishes to you. We expect you to carry on with your exciting creative projects, be it theatre, film, writing, acting, or direction. I thank you very much for giving us your precious time.

I thank you and ‘Millennium Post’ too for inviting me here.