WITH her most recent films Chor Nikal Ke Bhaga, Lost, Bhoot Police, A Thurs - day, Dasvi and Ginny Weds Sunny having streaming site premieres, Yami Gautam returned to cinema screens with the new release OMG 2 after a gap of four years.
The satirical comedy-drama sequel sees her star opposite Akshay Kumar and Pankaj Tripathi. She plays a no-nonsense lawyer in the story that combines a legal battle, morality, sex education and di - vine intervention. Eastern Eye caught up with the actress to discuss the film, her journey from television, being self-made and the art of choosing good projects.
You play a lawyer in OMG 2. What kind of preparation did you do for the role?
My preparation in - volved a lot of reading. I like to be very thorough with my script to the point where I am tired, but every time I read it, I feel that there is something different I felt this time. For this part, I worked on my diction, my enunciation and in what different way you say a line as a lawyer. You are not just delivering lines. Your audience should feel that emotion and diction. You play a lawyer in the film, who goes up against the everyday man played by Pankaj Tripathi. How was that? Well, he is very entertaining. He is very funny and that was just because the char - acter has to be. It is Pankaj Tripathi, he has his own style of comedy. There is no exaggeration but only situational comedy.
Did you have any apprehensions be - fore signing a film that talks about sex education?
As an actress, I have never shied away from taking up such roles. I spoke with Akshay Kumar also that it’s very important that the kind of audience this film is catering to should not feel embarrassed or shy away at any point. I feel very happy that I decided to go ahead with this film. When I read a script and if I like it, I don’t over analyse, I just go for it. I just go with my first instinct. So far, it has been in sync with the audience. So, I hope even this one does too.
You started on television before venturing into films. What was that experience like?
My first TV serial (Chand Ke Paar Chalo) didn’t do well. It ran for just three or six months. But, a lot of people told me, ‘You were very good in it’. I have very faint memories of television. I just re - member working at a stretch for hours and hours, without going home. I didn’t know what to do or cry without glycerine. You need to cry a lot on TV.
Is that why you decided against working for TV?
I took a sabbatical. I said, ‘I want to try auditioning to see the world now which is beyond this, because I am not enjoying what I am doing creatively’. Of course, television comes with its own financial security but that’s not my priori - ty. I wanted to do something else. Films are, of course, altogether different.
Was transitioning to films easy?
You feel, ‘oh, what’s so difficult?’ If you are a good actor, that’s it. First film hit, what more can go wrong? Fantastic! But that’s not how it is and we all know that. It takes a lot to be here and come to a point where you can give voice to your choices.
Do you feel proud of the fact that you are a self-made actor?
There is nothing called a self-made ac - tor. Even though I am from another city with no background, there are always people behind you and rooting for you. Be it your family, certain fans, that one producer, or a director who is willing to take that punt on you, saying, ‘I want to cast her and let’s see what happens’.
You have always chosen characters that are different from one another. Are all these choices intentional?
They are very much intentional. It is not possible that you’re making these choices and not be aware of what you are doing. In fact, a lot of work and thought goes into it. Maybe that thought was always there, even when there weren’t many opportunities. I am very proud of that phase also. Now where I have the choice to make those choices, I pick good films. OMG2 is definitely a part of it.
The uniqueness started with your debut Bollywood film?
I started my career with a film like Vicky Donor. If I tell you, a lot of people had said, ‘what a time is this, that a film on such a (taboo) subject is being made’. But it turned out to be a family enter - tainer and a cult film because of the path-breaking writing.
How do you make sure that you don’t repeat yourself?
It come from nuances. It comes from depth, your speech, how good your Hin - di is or whatever language you are speaking, for that matter. Even if you are not talking, sometimes silences are more powerful than words. So, all that comes from, I think, your director and the actor’s understanding.
Your films have performed well on multiple platforms, but is the joy of a theatrical hit more powerful than a streaming platform success?
This just reminds me that OMG 2 is my first theatrical release after Bala in 2019. 2019 gave me Bala, URI: The Surgical Strike and my husband (director Aditya Dhar). Absolutely, the joy of a theatrical release is unparalleled. It’s something else. Films were meant for the big screens and made to be enjoyed in a dark hall, where you are sitting next to strangers, your family or friends. You are just transported to this whole new world. Times change. We never saw it (Covid-19) coming and completely changing the viewer watch - ing experience.
Did this in - form your choices?
As an actor, when I sign a film, I don’t think even one bit that okay, this is for OTT and for theatrical. If it’s like that, then I don’t do that film. A film has to be good and should be. It’s a producer’s prerogative, a hard call that what should we do next. Unless it’s already a pre-sold with
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A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5