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From Hindustan
Times Sunday Book extract: Exclusive extracts from Ismail Merchant's new book, which traces the filmmaker's fascinating journey from Bombay to Hollywood PASSAGE FROM INDIA. One evening forty hears ago James Ivory and I sat in a coffee shop, the Right Bank on Madison Avenue in New York, and discussed the idea of making Indian-themed films for an international audience. Recently I was told that a plaque would be erected on the site to mark the place where Merchant Ivory partnership began.
It occurred to me that a whole generation of film audiences have grown up since that time knowing Merchant Ivory only for the period adaptations with which we are now associated. And yet, long before we made a name for ourselves in that particular niche, we had spent almost 20 years exploring and refining our craft on films based in present-day India. Overshadowed and perhaps eclipsed by our recent successes, those Indian films established both the themes and the style of our entire body of work. India is my country: the place which ignited my passion for film, and where my adventures as a filmmaker started.
I can remember the exact moment when I knew that I wanted to spend my life in the world of the movies. I was 13 years old and had been invited by Nimmi, one of the upcoming stars of Bombay film industry, to accompany her to the premiere of her first film, Barsaat. As we drove toward the cinema in her green Cadillac convertible - quite an impressive car in India at that time - a shower of marigolds began to rain down on us. It seemed so magical - like the movies themselves - that I can remember thinking, "if this is what the film world is, I want to be a part of it." From that moment, my father's dreams for me to become a doctor or a lawyer were doomed.
I left Bombay for New York on August 11, 1958, taking the boat from Bombay to Genoa, then the train to London, where I would spend a few days with my friend Karim before flying to New York. Disillusion set in within of my arrival in New York. My home was a dingy room in the sixteenth floor of the Martinique Hotel in Herald Square, an area whose streets were not so much paved with gold as with inebriate bums clutching their bottles of cheap liquor. The chances of bumping into Doris Day or Rock Hudson as I walked around the neighborhood suddenly seemed very remote. I had been lured to New York by the make-believe world of the movies, and had been terribly let down. "What have I come to?" I asked myself. "What kind of a places is this?"
The idea for my first feature film had been brewing for some time. It was to be an almost autobiographical, but fictionalized, story of an Indian coming to Hollywood to make movies. All I need was a writer - and money. I approached Isobel Lennart, a highly regarded screenwriter at MGM, who was sympathetic to the idea of writing something for me. During our conversation she mentioned that she had just read a wonderful book called The Householder by Ruth Pawer Jhabvala, which she suggested I should consider filming. "Hollywood would never make it," I remember her saying, "but you should." Even then, Ruth had admirers among Hollywood's literary community. I bought a copy of the book and read it, and then made a note in my diary that it would be my first film in India.
Saeed (Jaffrey) told me that I should see The Sword and the Flute, a documentary on Indian miniature painting made by a very special American from Oregon called James Ivory, so he invited me to a screening at India House. The subject of Indian miniature painting was one that I knew very little about, and I found the film completely absorbing and moving. The idea of using the history of this medium to explore historical events, life and spiritually was both original and complex, and Jim's intelligent script and striking choice of music by Ravi Shankar and Ali Akbar Khan made this a very compelling work. After the screening we were introduced, and I invited him for coffee. I was intrigued that a thirty-three-year-old from Oregon knew so much about India, and I was interested to know more about this American who had such an empathy with the culture of my country. We went to a coffeehouse called the Right Bank on Madison Avenue at Sixty-six Street. On this point we both agree, but from here on our accounts of what happened next diverge considerably. I remember listening attentively to Jim, an attractive, aquiline-featured man, as he talked about his film. He is a quiet, unassuming person, and he needed gentle prodding to volunteer information about himself and his work. Jim, on the other hand, insists that as soon as we arrived at the coffeehouse, I left him and went to make phone calls, and then spent the whole evening running between our table and the phone booth to call financiers and other important people. At one point, according to Jim, I even borrowed a dime from him because I had run out of change for the phone. I don't think so, especially because I was trying to entice Jim, to come to India and work with me. We will probably never resolve this, but what is beyond dispute is that Merchant Ivory Productions was born on that late April night in 1961.
In 1973, Tony Korner (a friend of mine from New York) and I had been in India gathering the bulk of material for a documentary about India's royal families that we had been planning since 1971. While we were in Jodhpur, I asked Ruth and Jim to join us. Jodhpur contains a wealth of historic treasures, not least of which is Umaid Bhawan Palace, the last of the great Indian palaces to be built. It now functions as a hotel, albeit in a very discreet way, with an impressive guest list that has included many distinguished names, from Jaqueline Onasis to Peter O'Toole. Bapji, the present maharajah of Jodhpur, retains one wing if the palace as his personal residence, and it was there that Ruth, Jim and I were summoned to join him, his family, their English friend, Douglas, for dinner one night during our stay. While we were enjoying this great Rajashani feast, Bapji's illegitimate brother, Tutu, suddenly burst into the dining room armed with a huge ceremonial sword he slashed wildly at us. He lunged at Bapji with it, yelling incomprehensible threats as he tried to slice off Bapji's head. Bapji's great-great aunt, Baiji, rose from her seat, and Tutu immediately turned his sword on her. "If you move" yelled Tutu "this sword will slice on your head too." Hemlata (Bapji's wife) threw herself in front of Bapji, screaming at Tutu that it would have to kill her first. Bapji's mother, who had been showing us some rare family jewels, seemed more concerned about the priceless diamonds that had scattered across the floor. The servants, anticipating a bloodbath, all disappeared in a flash while we were left to the mercy of a madman. We knew that Tutu was slightly deranged and that he bore a bitter resentment toward Bapji, who was a legitimate son, but we never expected anything like a violent attack. We were paralyzed with surprise and horror. Jim and I could do nothing but stare bug-eyed at Tutu's thrashing sword, wondering if it would strike us. It was Ruth, slight, diminutive Ruth, who finally took Tutu on. "How dare you come in like this." She screamed at him. "Get out at once!" Well, of course he didn't. So Ruth started calling for the servants to come and take him away, which they eventually did, leaving us severely shaken. Much later, we heard that Tutu had been beheaded and his body chopped to pieces by the local mafia - a brutal end to an ongoing family feud by ancient methods that sometimes resurface in Rajasthan. My
Passage From India,
'ISMAIL IS A MAGICIAN' Shashi Kapoor, who will be releasing Ismail's book in Delhi, has known him since 1961. The two have worked together in several firms, but more importantly, they are very close friends. Here's Shashi on Ismail: Have you read Ismail's book? Yes, I liked it, it's very good, and all the incidents are true. Like the one where he borrowed money from my wife to pay me! You've known Ismail for so long. How would you describe him? I've known him since 1961. I didn't like him at first, I found him very cheeky, brash, over-confident. Gradually I got to know him. He's a lovely human being. He can be nasty as hell as a producer but everyone forgives him because all he wants is to make a good film. When
did you last meet him?
At the Cairo Film Festival in October last year. I haven't been traveling for many years and I didn't have the confidence to travel. But he just bullied me into coming. We saw lots of films, attended seminars, I gave TV, radio interviews. It was wonderful. Ismail is a fabled cook - do you remember any particular occasion when he cooked for you? Ismail is a magician, he can cook out of nothing. And not just Indian food, he can cook all kinds of cuisine. He's taken a lot of recipes from here for his books, but the badmash has never admitted it. I remember one particular occasion. Christians have this rasm where, after a funeral, everyone gathers to have a drink and something to eat. After my wife's funeral in London, I hadn't planned on anything, but Ismail cooked a faboulous meal for over 100 people. He can also be extraordinarily generous. I remember when my wife was being treated in London, after about a year of being abroad, I ran out of money. I met Ismail, he saw me looking worried and asked, "Kya hua?" I told him that I needed money, otherwise I would have to take Jennifer out of the hospital. He said, "Don't be silly" and immediately, wrote out a cheque and gave it to me. It was a big amount. Was he very close to your wife? Oh yes, Ismail, Ruth and Jim were much closer to Jennifer. There was that phase when I was very busy with my films. I had very little time. But they would meet Jennifer regularly. You have done quite few films with him. Any favourites? All the films are special, lekin shuru ki filmein yaad rethi hain. There are so many hysterical incidents I remember - I'll tell you one. We were shooting The Householders and had to shoot in Jantar Mantar. Getting permission was a huge headache. Ismail told us to get there and start shooting, he'd get the permission. So we landed up there. The guard asked us, "Permission hai ?" I told him someone was coming with the official permission. So we set up everything and started shooting. The guard kept asked about the permission. I kept saying, "It's coming, it's coming". Finally Ismail turned up. He took the guard out of Jantar Mantar, kept him engaged, saying "Idhar hi to rakhi thi permission, kahan gayi?" and meanwhile, we finished our scene. Without paying any bribe or anything, he got this way. He must have done this kind of stuff hundreds of tomes. He's a real charmer! -Poonam Saxena "INDIA GIVES ME ENERGY" Ismail Merchant says his latest book traces his journey from Bombay to Hollywood and beyond. It's a roller coaster ride, and Ismail comes across as a warm, generous man who can charm the fur coat off an Eskimo. Excerpts from an interview with Poonam Saxena: How did this book happen? I wanted to share certain things with people - my journey from Bombay to Hollywood, So I started dictating my story into a tape recorder whenever I had the time. Then the tape was transcribed and the book was ready! It took about six months. As I thought about my life, incidents kept coming back to me in flashes. Writing everything out would have been very difficult. Speaking into the tape recorder was like talking to a person. You've said you have a talent for making people part with their money... (Laughs) It's a very seductive talent. It's a combination of enormous charm and the power of convincing people. It also comes from a strong beliefs in what you're doing. That's there's nothing to stop you. It's a gift from God. Someone up there likes me. There have been so many ups and downs in your life. Weren't you ever disheartened? When you have a dedicated, passionate approach to life, you're not dissuaded by difficulties. You've described how you ran out of money while making Heat and Dust. Wasn't it tough, dealing with such difficult moments in your life? There was no money, the investors had run away and the crew was all ready and waiting. I took the footage of whatever had been shot to London, showed it to investors and raised the money. But I knew, and Shashi Kaapor knew, that the film would get made. How did you feel when the film became a big commercial success? Vindicated? Victorious? In my mind, I had accepted that it was going to be a big hit. It was like I had already seen it, predicted it. What has kept you going all these years? The creative elements all around me - the people I have worked with. They have always energized me. I could say that I'm a Grand Moghul, I've got 33 Oscar nominations, I'm the cat's whiskers. But I don't think like that. People are the real heart and soul of my company and my life. Coming to India gives me energy. Whenever I come to India, I go to the dargah in Ajmer. I've never lost that contact with India. I may have lived abroad for 43 years but my bond with India is stronger that ever. What's your latest film? We're finishing a film, Le divorce, with Glenn Close, Kate Hudson, Leslie Caron. It will open in May. We'll also be doing a film in China, The White Countess, based on an original screenplay by Ishiguru. Your book doesn't have too many personal details. Why? I'm giving myself a chance to do a second volume!
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