I've always, always, always wanted to be an actor.  Ever since I was 3 years old living in a remote boarding school on the western coast of India, having to move back to the motherland after my mom passed away in NY.

Here's a picture from my first play where I played Joseph.  (That's me with the mustache!)

I grew up in utter fascination and God like worship of my idol Amitabh Bachchan, who's picture was in the company of Hindu Gods on the wall in our little apartment in Mumbai.

I would dance my little ass off in school functions and fasted when Amitabh Bachchan had his near death experience on the set of Coolie.  I was shattered, went to temples, drove my father up the wall, and went to the movies as often as my father would take us.  I watched the Big B's movies endlessly and repeatedly, just so I could practice his moves, recite dialogue, and subconsciously learn to act.

Fast forward a few years and we had moved back to Queens, NY.  I was 9.  And still as mesmerized as ever by the movies, acting, dancing, story telling.  I was quite angry and heart broken that my father had turned down some auditions I was offered in Mumbai - something I learned a lot later.  He wanted us to move back to the US, and wasn't about to let me indulge in anything more than living room dramatics.

In high school, I discovered a new passion for American films and stumbled upon creative writing.  I had terrible stage fright and fear of public speaking so I opted to write instead.  With some encouragement from my high school drama teacher, I continued to write silly little stage plays about crushes I had.  

Then I went to Queensborough Community College to major in Business Administration.  It was a notion that lasted for exactly 1 day.  On day 2 of my first college semester, I dropped all my Business Admin classes and took every possible writing and drama class.  There was a burning desire to write and act.  I got a part in the college production of Shakespeare's As You Like It, and went on stage for the first time.  I blanked.  Forgot my lines.  Returned back stage.  Thankfully, my fellow actors and drama teacher didn't laugh at me, but rather with me.  They all knew what stage fright felt like.  Like a support group would do, they encouraged me, and put me back on stage till I finally overcame the "fear".  It took me several months to tell my father what I was up to.

By the next year, I was enrolled at NYC's School of Visual Arts with a major in Screenwriting and Acting.  I was the least bit interested in anything to do with behind the camera work.  I found amazing, generous, talented teachers like Joe Paradise, Lisa Eichhorn, and Matt Mitler.    Here's one of my first headshots

For the next 7 or so years I would take evening classes with Joe and Matt.  They both encouraged my desire to write and act.  That's how I wound up co-writing a better part of When Harry Tries to Marry, (I was going to play Harry at the time).  I even got my writing partner on the script, Ralph Stein to join our acting classes so we could both be on the same page.

Screenwriting was a way for me to write parts to play as an actor.  That was my whole goal.  I knew that very very few Indian-American actors were getting a chance to play anything other than stereotypical, cliched, insulting, derogatory versions of the most banal and inane "roles" one could think of.  

I was able to get an agent who represented pretty much all the ethnic actors (particularly the Indian-Americans) in NY.  They would send me to auditions where I would invariably be asked to put on an Indian accent.  I would be crushed, dejected, angry - but I would do it.  I don't have an accent - at least not a discernable one.  

I will never forget the last time I ever went for a real, serious movie audition.  It was for Richard Linklater's "Suburbia".  The role was that of - you guessed it - convenience store owner.  Now, mind you, my father owned a convenience store at the time.  So this was easy-peasy.  I had this sucker nailed.

Then.

"Can you do an Indian accent?"

I said, okay.  And proceeded to put on a very slight Indian accent - neither my father, me or my brother have distinguishable accents.  But anyway, anything for the part right? 

Then.

"Stronger."

Then...

"Let me show you what I mean."

The casting person, not sure who it was then, an associate or whoever, DID THE INDIAN APU ACCENT FOR ME.  I imitated her accent just for kicks, but I had no desire whatsoever to do the role, go on anymore auditions, or be an actor - if it meant that I had to play a stupid stereotype.  I realized that the "Brown" which Aasif Mandvi talks about in his blog for the Hollywood Reporter, isn't something that I was going to offer like a circus clown.  And that's the day I lost my passion for acting.  I said Fuck It.  And stopped pursuing acting as a career.  I don't know if I was any good as an actor to begin with, but that's really irrelevant and I didn't care at that point.   I wasn't going to be the object of someone's joke.

Now, of course, things have changed - a little.  There are more opportunities, more roles, and more South Asian actors on TV, Film, Stage and Commercials.  

But the stereotypes still exist in full force.  Aasif talks about it in his blog, which is quite honest.  More power to him if this helps him in his career.  Frankly, he's much more talented than that accented dude he's playing.  I wish people like him, and pretty much all the Indian-American actors who have any sort of proverbial power in Hollywood would say fuck you to the studio and not do the accent when told that the studio wants to bring in a dialect coach.  It's not funny anymore.   Of course, given the opportunity to be in a major movie, most people will cower to the studio's demands and do whatever the hell is asked.  Stereotypes exist because they are constantly reinforced.  

Reading Aasif's blog brought back a river of emotion and anger I felt years ago, and perhaps that river still flows.  I would rather work in a convenience store than play an accented convenience store owner, or for that matter some desi dude at Google.  No regrets.  The kid in me will find a way to play.

-Thank you for reading.  Thank You Universe.

Nayan

It's been 11 days since I wrote the last blog, and I am kind of mad at myself for being lackadaisical about it.  Sometimes the day goes by and it's hard to figure out what to make of it, let alone try to come up with something that is hopefully interesting enough to jot down and share.  But what the hey.

I'm going to use a crutch - a jumping off point to get into this blog, and perhaps more in the future when I feel stifled.  I read this really interesting guest blog by Danny Boyle for Moviemaker Magazine.  I just love Danny Boyle's spirit and candor whenever I hear him speak at events or on videos.  

Point 3 of this blog by Danny Boyle is: LEARN TO TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS

Now, I have noticed that something happens to people in Los Angeles.  I didn't notice it as acutely in New York, and certainly not in Mumbai.  Here, people either have really sharp instincts or none at all.  Perhaps instincts are like knives that can go dull if you don't sharpen them once in a while, or if your instincts have gone unrewarded in the past.  

Someone may love a project, a script, an actor, a director, a whatever, but somewhere there is this anxious fear - the fear to trust the instinct.  Consequently, instincts are either brushed aside or sent up or down and sideways for validation.  

Hollywood is naturally governed by a great deal of fear and self doubt, and intrinsically, also by a great deal of collective instinct -- of a very finite pool of people.  People believe that if someone else has the guts to follow their instincts on a given project then it must be good.  The instinct (usually one that is rooted in fear/self doubt) to follow someone else's instinct (of confidence and determination) is quite pervasive and powerful.  

For those who aren't content following the herd, how does one know if one is headed down the right path?  How does one know whether to trust someone or to spend time / money on a project?  How does one make the (best) decisions that can affect so many aspects of one's life, and the lives of others?  

So here is an exercise that may take 3 minutes or 3 hours.  There are decisions I have been contemplating - instincts that I have not listened to yet, or ignored hoping to silence them... and perhaps now is a good time to make an inventory of those decisions, and to write them down on paper.  

Decision                               Instinct                        Fear/Doubt 

Consider having a scheduled, weekly Board Meeting of Life Inc with yourself.   I know I will (try to)!

Trust is built on communication, and it's hard to trust one's instincts without communicating with them regularly.  Perhaps that's the real lesson I needed to be reminded of... shukriya, Mr. Boyle.

Thank you for reading.  TYU. -- Nayan Padrai

I fell off the blog wagon again.  It's like vitamins.  I'll take vitamins for 3 days and then forget to take them.  I even have memory enhancing vitamins, and I don't take them.  So here is the blog for today.  And after finishing the blog, I need to work out (again something I am irregular at), and well, the list of things to do is endless. 

"I don’t think anybody who’s developing their own screenplays independently is not functioning like a producer."   


I just read this article from Filmmaker Magazine about writers who produce with an interview of Larry Gross, and it is something I really needed to read at this time.  Sometimes the internet and the volume of emails we all get can be inundating, but everyday I find some bits of useful information that informs my world view in some fraction of a way.

As a writer, which I consider myself first and foremost, the job of producing can sometimes take a toll on the "creative time" that I have.  But I have learned to embrace this aspect of my workload.  Producing allows me to meet many more people than I would if I just stayed locked up in my man cave writing all day.  It also enables me to think more creatively in my writing, because I can accept criticism and "notes" more effectively.  Producing affords me the opportunity to have more objectivity about the business of filmmaking, something that when I just put on my screenwriting hat, I may not have.  

A great aspect of developing my producing muscles has been the ability to say to myself, this isn't for you to write, but I am able to think of other writers that can write a particular script or story treatment.  And that's been liberating, of not having the guilt of not writing something I care about for any number of reasons.  I can now work with other writers to help shape material that I would be passionate about producing.  More on this in the follow up blog about "Wildflowers" the script we just acquired.

Back to the article, I'd rather not paraphrase it, so head on over and read it yourself. 

Thanks for reading!  Thank you Filmmaker Magazine.  And Thank You Universe.

It's precisely Zero Dark Thirty right now (that's 12:30am for the uninitiated).  I just finished watching the film ZDT for the third time in two months.  I can watch this film thirty more times.  It is a class in economic story telling, subtle characterizations, and letting the story unfold (even though we know exactly what we are going to get at the end of the journey).

There are very few directors (particularly American directors) who can pull off this kind of film -- one that leaves sentiment and melodrama by the way side.  There is no triumphant victory dance by the protagonist, aptly named Maya by Mark Boal.  There is no backstory, side story, love interest, quirky character trait.  There is a simple resolute determination (although I didn't much like the over use of the "her confidence" line in the trailer).

Why I bring this up?  It seems people in Hollywood have read way too many books on screenwriting by writers who haven't made any successful films that I can think of.  Many in town talk about "rooting interest", but there are characters you don't root for, but you root with.  Because rooting for someone removes the viewer from the situation, and reduces one to an observer status rather than an active participant in the dilemma... and it becomes an exercise like watching sports.  

As a writer, I don't necessarily subscribe to the "give me a character to root for", or have a fabricated "emotional" journey with.  For me, ZDT is an emotional journey in the most understated way possible, because it's not in your face, and it's not heavy handed.  There are tons of characters in the movie, and you don't really know much personal information about anyone of them.  But you are WITH them on their journey.  Invested in their mission.  Perhaps this is one of those films that provides closure to what so many of us have felt for over a decade.  We got that bastard.  Maybe.  I don't know.  

I am in awe of Mark Boal's writing and Kathryn Bigelow's direction.  Her work reminds me of Sydney Lumet's films.  He was in my book the best director American films have had in 30 years.  He was invisibly present, and didn't hit you with a sledgehammer to make you like characters, show point of view, or show off his camera tricks.  And Bigelow is in that precious vanguard of filmmakers.  

There's one actor in the film who goes by almost unnoticed because he has very little screen time - Taylor Kinney, who is on Chicago Fire. I have a feeling we're going to see a lot more of Taylor on the big screen.  He's got magnetic screen presence.

It was a heavy movie weekend.  I saw Rust and Bone in which Marion Cotillard gives an amazing performance.  HOW did they shoot the stuff with her amputated legs?  I have to resubscribe to American Cinematographer.  Again, the film is a marvelous example of screenwriting that is economic and leaves holes for the audience to fill in.  The characters (except for the one Marion plays) aren't necessarily all that sympathetic.  Her "love" interest, more like a fuck-buddy, is completely "unsympathetic" by all Hollywood and Western standards, and he's not a love-to-hate type of guy either.  He's just mostly a self-absorbed douche.  But we "get" him.  And we see the transformation and the arc - one that isn't as neat and clean as the McDonalds Arch that most formula driven screenwriting pushes writers towards.  Catch the film on Redbox if you haven't.

Lastly, I also saw (yawn), Les Miserables, or as my bro called it, The Miserables (which would make for a great Pixar title.)  Les Miserables made close to $450 million around the world, and was total style over substance.  Amazing cinematography, visual effects, make up, hair, costumes, sing your heart out performances, but I couldn't watch it again - ever.  The earlier Les Miserables with Liam Neeson was so much more compelling a picture.  Perhaps I am in the minority on this one, but really, this was a soap opera with Russell Crowe singing.  Next time I want to watch a musical, I'll stick to good old Bollywood.  

It's Zero Dark One now and I should get to sleep.  Thank you for reading and let me know what you of these films.  Hope you had a great Saturday and enjoy the rest of the weekend.  TYU.  -- Nayan Padrai

Welcome. 

First of all, I haven't written a blog in a couple of years so I might be a bit rusty, but hopefully not boring...

I read the blog of my childhood idol, Amitabh Bachchan last night.  I am so in awe of this superstar of the millenium, who rocked The Great Gatsby premiere this week.  

Mr. Bachchan posted his blog at about 3am in NYC after having to retype it due to some posting glitch.  The dedication he has to communicate with his fans and making time to express his daily thoughts is unmatchable. Reading his blog inspired me to start blogging again too.  If there's a muse one should have, there can be no better one than Mr. Bachchan.

I have had the good fortune to meet Mr. Bachchan (one of the most memorable days of my life).  I had the golden opportunity to create the marketing campaign for his seminal TV series - Kaun Banega Crorepati (India's version of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire), when it launched in the US on DIRECTV.  

Mr. Bachchan was the most professional person I have ever come across - and he's a true legend.  Fortunately, I was able to meet Mr. Bachchan on a couple of other occasions and am dying to work with him one day (hello Universe)!

My first memories of being in the film business stem from my fascination and God like worship of Amitabh Bachchan.  I would watch his films such as Yaarana and Pukar over and over and over again, literally hundreds of times.  I would dance to his songs in school functions in India, and that idolization carried on when we moved to Queens, NY.  What I may have lacked in rhythm, I made up for in sheer joy.

It is no secret that Mr. Bachchan is one of the most versatile and professional actors in the world.  Always punctual, always a man of his word, always humble.  It bothers me that western audiences haven't had a chance to see how he lights up the big screen, and the enigmatic power he brings to his performances.

Go see The Great Gatsby and fall in love with Amitabh Bachchan (even though he jokes he's in the film for a just a minute or two).  You might just marathon a bunch of his movies on Netflix when you get home.  Thank You for reading.  Thank You Mr. Bachchan for your presence in my life through the silver screen.  And Thank You Universe (TYU).   --Nayan Padrai