Similar sets, identical equipment, and the magic they create with worthy performers. But, when women make movies, they are always “women directors”, with a prefix. They are expected to make rom-coms, family dramas, or children’s films. Slowly, but surely, women are emerging with creations that break these genre barriers. Some have made a beginning with an actioner, a thriller, or a sports film. Others have delved deep into the human psyche to come up with compelling, sensitive portrayals of maladies of the mind. They don’t choose their subjects to make a difference; rather, they dive into genres they deeply love.
When taut revenge saga Drohi released five years ago, some did a double take seeing the director’s name — Sudha Kongara Prasad. The first look of her bilingual Madhavan-starrer Irudhi Suttru/Saala Khadoos , set to release on January 29, elicited a similar response. The unasked missives were many — how did a woman direct a gangster saga and a sports film? How did she manage to find a producer like Rajkumar Hirani? How did a hugely popular hero agree to star in her film?
These are some of the queries women directors face, and, occasionally, answer. “In all this, people forget the one important thing. That, it is possible that I am a fan of sports films, and that I love an underdog story,” laughs Sudha.
She started scripting the film in 2010, after reading an editorial in The Hindu about North Chennai and its boxing culture, and how girls were getting into the sport. “I started my primary and secondary research. I heard so many stories that I went back and rewrote the film. Every anecdote became a scene, every incident went in; we never had to fabricate anything.”
Aishwarya Dhanush, who made 3 , which speaks about bipolar disorder, and Vai Raja Vai , which is about extra-sensory perception, refuses to slot films into genres. “Personally, I like narrating stories that revolve around something new. I’d find it very boring otherwise.” She trained under Selvaraghavan, known for his raw, realistic frames. As did Gitanjali Selvaraghavan. Her Maalai Nerathu Mayakkam , which deals with marital rape, was given an A certificate, but that did not bother her. “The film is a sensitive take on a subject not often discussed, but I wanted to do it.” The film was written by her husband Selvaraghavan, and once Gitanjali decided to direct it, she revisited the second half. “I wanted it to be commercially viable too. I did not want people to hate either of the leads.” The film was not an easy one to pitch, but producer Kola Bhaskar was impressed enough and took it on.
Despite a great story, directors need that nudge towards the right stars and producers. For Sudha, Madhavan took on that mantle. “We needed about 5,000 people for the climax. People wondered who would fund it. But, my mentor Mani Ratnam told me that is exactly why I must make this movie. Maddy came on board in 2011, and made this his baby and battle. He took me to every producer, and when Rajkumar Hirani came on board, I knew my film was “safe”, that is, assured of a release. It’s criminal to make a film and not see it release.”
That’s something Lakshmy Ramakrishnan agrees with. Her first two films, Aarohanam (which dealt with bipolar disorder) and road movie, Nerungi Vaa Muthamidaathey , found limited theatrical release, but Ammani , which speaks of the bond between two women, is waiting in the cans. Lakshmy cites the examples of Kaaka Muttai and Kuttram Kadithal , which made it to the theatres and stayed there for a while, because they were backed by big names.
Directors, irrespective of their sex, have a tough time in the industry, says Sudha. There’s a success rate of just about 17 per cent. You have to write a ‘different’ script, meet the actor, pitch it well, find backers who will fund you, find a release window… “It’s one hell of a downward spiral till the film is released, and then, a Friday seals your fate,” she adds.
All the women say the learning is what drives them. Adds Sudha, “I can’t make a movie where I can’t learn. I’d die of boredom. Now, I know every rule about boxing.” Speaking about Drohi , she says that in hindsight, she sees many writing flaws that are not apparent on screen. “But, it was my learning tool. Maddy came on board after seeing the film.”
Satellite rights are a huge source of revenue for these slick, small films. It also keeps producers “safe”, and allows them to invest in other small filmmakers. Lakshmy says she felt “uncomfortable” when a satellite channel offered Rs. 1.2 crore for Aarohanam , her passion project. “I’d spent just 36 lakhs making the film. I knew the film had flaws despite strong content. I also knew it would work well on TV. Finally, we settled for Rs. 55 lakhs. I think that was a terrific price. Nerungi VaaMuthamidaathey had a budget of Rs. 4.5 crore, and broke even.”
Budget, again, is a huge constraint for most women filmmakers, because the big actors tend to stay away from these projects. “When I started off with Aarohanam , I had no idea about theatrical release, revenue, etc. But, because of my subject, I shot within the budget, because I was not sure of its commercial viability. I am not comfortable spending others’ money when I’m not sure if they will be able to earn that back.”
Anjana Ali Khan, who made the searing Veppam and is now shooting a romcom, Pallaandu Vaazhga , still remembers the initial reaction to her debut movie. “ Veppam was made at a time when we were not familiar with the non-star, content-driven, tight-budget model of filmmaking.” But, producers did not question her much, “because they could see that the film was essentially mainstream with a potential viable box-office draw,” she says.
Why do women choose to make the kind of movies they do? Anjana chose Veppam not just because she loves the action thriller genre, but because it was a practical movie to make. “My film did not draw the stars, so my budget was restricted. I wanted to make a film that transcended traditional classifications of movies.”
“We make films that fall in the genre we personally like,” says Sudha. Which is why it is wrong to chastise someone for sticking to rom-coms or family dramas. “For instance, look at my taste,” says Sudha. “I loved Kathryn Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty ; my favourite films are The Godfather , Kill Bill: Volume 2 … I dig Tarantino’s works…That is my DNA, and to me, this is conventional cinema as I see it,” she adds.
Aishwarya says something similar. “I write and share my thoughts with very few people. That way, I don’t have self-doubt or confusion if something will work. I just focus on the story at hand. Dhanush, in fact, told her the same thing — focus on the present, not on where you want to take the movie. “You don’t set out making a film that will rake in 100 crores; you just want to make a good film.”
So, is there a chance we will get to see a Zoya Akhtar or a Farah Khan-style film in Tamil? With huge stars bending over backwards to fit into an ensemble film? “A decade ago, my answer might have been different. But, now, despite the fact that the industry is still male dominated, I think we will see it happen,” says Aishwarya. Sudha agrees. “Who’s to say we can’t make these movies? In cinema, there is no safety net, male or female. If women were meant to direct only “soft” movies, then they should have all become roaring hits, right?”
Lakshmy believes that films hold a greater purpose. “If you’re going to worry about commercial success right at the beginning, it will be the death knell of creativity.”
