I want to challenge myself across genres and spaces, says filmmaker Nishant Kalidindi
After the outlandish energy and cult success of Kadaseela Biriyani (2021), filmmaker Nishant Kalidindi returns with Theatre, a quieter and deeply observant second feature that marks a shift in both form and temperament. Premiering at the International Film Festival of Kerala in the Indian Cinema Now section, the film was screened to packed audiences, once again underscoring Nishanths assured craft. Set in the traditional urban quarters of Puducherry the filmmakers hometown Theatre unfolds within a local theatre troupe. Shot in Tamil and Malayalam, the film follows Das, a cowherd who leads a double life as an actor, and traces the fragile dynamics of a close-knit group as personal histories and unspoken tensions begin to surface. Rooted in Nishanths close observation of the Indianostrum Theatre group in Puducherry and made within spaces he knows intimately, Theatre emerges as an unassuming yet precise portrait of artists, labour, and the conflicts that shape the act of creation. Nishanth opens up about his journey in a chat with TNIE. Excerpts: After the success of Kadaseela Biriyani, why did it take so long for your next film to come out? The film was actually ready about two years ago. But we wanted it to have a proper festival journey. This year, we had the opportunity to premiere it in Rotterdam, but that process takes time. Also, it was not conceived as a mainstream follow-up to Kadaseela Biriyani, but as an act of self-expression, a way of documenting my journey and memories with a group of artists I deeply admire. It didnt come from a logical plan, but from an emotional need to get something out of my system. The shift from a raw thriller to this film feels drastic. How did you grow personally through this journey? I didnt look at it as growth in that sense. I was excited to do something completely different, put myself in a vulnerable space. This film was made through an improvisational process inspired by theatre practices I observed, where characters are shaped through conversations with actors rather than a fixed script. You know the structure, but you dont know exactly what the scene will become. That uncertainty was exciting. I wanted to dare myself, to find the edges of my abilities. I wasnt trying to be unconventional. I just didnt want to be overly organised. You have said you were ready to shelve the film if it didnt work for you. Why take that risk? It was simple if I wasnt happy with the expression, I would not release it. I didnt want the film to be judged on a measuring scale of good or bad. I wanted people to see it as an observation, something that might reflect their own lives. The film is about stepping outside yourself and looking at yourself from a third-person perspective. Because I wasnt chasing reception, I didnt feel fear. It became a beautiful experience. The film treats everyday labour and theatrical performance with equal weight. What drew you to that? I come from a documentary background, so observation is central to my practice. While spending time with theatre artists, I saw how physical their work is. They literally build their stages; they become masons before they become artists. That fascinated me. This workers life, before being validated as an artist, is their reality. The film mirrors that journey. Thats why theres very little narrative push. I wanted to mimic life. Life doesnt resolve itself in two or three days. Conflicts dont neatly conclude. Hope in the film comes from small validations, the director finding confidence, not a dramatic transformation. The background score and the yellow colour palette feel like characters themselves It came from the space itself. We didnt impose much production design. We just captured what was already there in the streets of Puducherry. I wanted to show it not as a tourist space, but as a lived-in town. Our aim was fidelity to the space, not stylisation. The colours and sound already existed; our job was to record them honestly. Was there pressure to create aesthetically pleasing frames? No. In fact, we tried to avoid aesthetics that felt imposed. In Kadaseela Biriyani, everything was planned and composed. Here, we did the opposite. We followed actors for kilometres, filming events as they unfolded. Instead of creating scenes, we captured situations. Cinema entered reality, but reality was not forced to behave like cinema. Tamil cinema is often seen as highly commercial now. Where do you place yourself within that space? I want to exist in multiple film spaces. Kadaseela Biriyani was a mainstream cinema. Theatre exists in a parallel stream. I dont like strict labels. I want to challenge myself across genres and spaces mainstream, parallel, arthouse and see if I can stand in all of them. As a filmmaker in a neighbouring industry, how do you perceive Malayalam cinema? Malayalam cinema has laid a strong foundation for Indian audiences to engage with layered, thoughtful films. They dont serve the audience; they invite them to think. That has benefited filmmakers like me. Because audiences are already trained to engage deeply, I can push subtlety further into confusion, into multiple emotions at once. As a filmmaker, what is the biggest challenge today? Self-sustainability. A filmmaker must create an ecosystem where they can keep making films without depending entirely on cinema for survival. When you are dependent, you are only surviving, not enriching yourself. Freedom, whether it is financial, emotional, or mental, is important. Cinema comes much later. First, you need the freedom to think. Only then can cinema become a true reflection of life. Theatre premiered at IFFK. How was the audiences response? What I felt most strongly was silence. People stayed with the film even after it ended. That silence felt like a privilege. What that silence reflects to me thats something Im still thinking about.
21 C
