Barbara Wurm: Welcome to Forum, Jatla! I am here with Christiane, and Lisabona also sent questions. All three of us are fans of your second fiction feature, IN THE BELLY OF A TIGER. How did you come up with this (sur)real story?
Jatla Siddartha: In 2017 I read an article about a reported incident in the north of India involving an elderly woman going into a tiger reserve to be killed by the tiger so her family could claim government compensation to survive. I was really haunted by the story. Over the next several months I met local villagers, and lived in the village, and understood that there is much more to the story than the sensational headline reported. There were many overlapping reasons that villagers in the area were struggling – education, debts, lack of land, and the extreme conditions of the work available to villagers. Villagers also told me that if they move to the city, the city will never take them and give them good work, and yet there was no work in their village to survive. I was living in the village when the pandemic hit, which compounded the struggle for work. The real context was so much more than the story that was reported about the tiger. And in fact I do not know, to this day, if the reported incident in that article was true. This is why in my film, I never show the tiger, because I want viewers to understand the daily conditions that make survival so challenging. It's been a very observational journey, and it broke my heart as much as I also saw incredible beauty – the beauty of these families and the village itself. The spirit of the village and of the families, despite the hardships, is something I wanted to show in this film.
Christiane Büchner: The family of Saharsh, is it a typical family according to the people you met in this village?
JS: Basically, Saharsh’s character is me, it's my observation, my compassion. I saw people, who were in very sad situations because of their poverty; they lost their father, the kids are working in a factory because if they go to school, who is going to get the rice at the end of the day? These painful observations are basically Saharsh’s character, which is me. Saharsh is an observer at one point of time. But at the same time I have also seen fathers who, though they have nothing, are great fathers. I have seen irresponsible fathers and also the great, responsible fathers, irrespective of their poverty. So Saharsh is a mix of myself and my observations.
When I saw the street plays happening again and again in the villages and how these beautiful plays can make the audiences cry, laugh, and at the same time feel the comfort of hope, I wanted to share this experience in the film.
CB: I was wondering about the structure within the family, the elder granddaughter for example, why is she rarely addressed and remains in the background? Could you tell us about the inner hierarchy of this family? You dwell much on this in your film.
JS: In Asia, the elder kid, even though the kid is only eight years, they become very mature. They are supposed to be taking care of the family. The elder one is like a protector, tries to imitate the parents. That's the kind of conditioning we have in Indian families. In this story, she has also witnessed a great loss. She speaks less, but she holds the weight of her family on her small shoulders too.
BW: At what point did the idea of the village theatre enter your plot? Is it part of the relationships in your film or more a structural element? Core or décor?
JS: So it's a very harsh world out there in those villages. And God is a great source of comfort. I have seen so many times these street plays happening in the village. And all these villagers come together in the night, irrespective whether it is 11:00pm or midnight, they all have to see it. When I saw the street plays happening again and again in the villages and how these beautiful plays can make the audiences cry, laugh, and at the same time feel the comfort of hope, I wanted to share this experience in the film. Seeing those plays, I knew that God had to be an element of the film. I want my film to also communicate the message these plays do. For anyone who is struggling, there is hope. But as Bhagole says, it is not only God who has a responsibility to help, it is also us as humans, and our heart, which must be resolute to help.
CB: Can you tell us more about the theatre play. What is it about?
JS: The play is called “Gajendra Moksha” and it is about the elephant Gajendra who is a disciple of Lord Vishnu. One day Gajendra leads his herd to a river. And he thinks, after a long walk, they have found it. Let's have some water here and take some rest. While they drink water, the crocodile in the river catches hold of his leg and holds him down. The other elephants try to pull him out, but after a certain point, he understands that there's no way to survive. He is devoid of any hope of survival. So he asks the other elephants to move ahead, and he decides he's going to die. Gajendra starts praying to Lord Vishnu. And Lord Vishnu is in heaven with his wife, and suddenly he hears his disciple chanting his name.
He comes down to Earth and when Gajendra sees him, he takes out a lotus from the river, and offers it to Vishnu, even though he is in such a pain. Moved by this gesture, Vishnu releases his chakra. This is a weapon Vishnu has. And the chakra kills the crocodile, freeing the elephant.
This tale is also philosophical, if you notice – the river is the world, the crocodile is a form of desires, and the elephant is us, the people. We are always surrounded by desires and always suffering because of them. But if we offer ourselves truly to Lord Vishnu, God will always come and protect us, is what the folktale talks about.
CB: What about the second site, the brick factory? You show it in a very straightforward way, it’s clear what’s going on. On the other hand there is this beautiful candy that is passed on from one person to the other. You can, thus, buy something for this money, and it can be given to others. Does capitalism clash with the idea of value in your film?
JS: In the village where this film was shot and also where these incidents were first reported, big factories are the only way you can earn money. The jobs in many factories are brutal – they exploit the powerless. There is a line in the film, that the manager’s assistant says, that he goes to the local shops to see which families have a lot of debt, and they hire those families. That’s something I witnessed during my research. The moments of kindness amongst the workers, as they help each other, that is also something I was moved by and connected to. The chocolate scene for example is a very personal thing because my dad is also a filmmaker and he made a few independent films. And he was a beautiful disaster in life. He never brought any money to home. And I had to move to a lot of places because he couldn't afford to pay the rent. But my father, even though he was a beautiful disaster, he always used to that whenever he came back – I didn’t know what he was doing outside, now I understand he was trying a lot – he would always give a chocolate to me. That's my personal touch. So Saharsh is also my father. It's me, my father, my observation and all that. Saharsh is a beautiful disaster at the end of the day.
BW: What about your actors? Who are they?
JS: Most of them are the original villagers from where I shot. I gave them training, stayed with them for six months. But the main characters, Bhagole and Prabhata, are local theatre artists. I used to take them for long walks, show them films. I used to show them films by Zhang Yimou, because he used to work with villagers. And I showed them how they had acted. Slowly and slowly, they understood what I wanted. And then finally they gave some of the best performances, I feel.
BW: What is also remarkable is the music. It's very classical instrumentation. The drums, the piano, the flute, the cello. Did you want it to sound classical?
SJ: I agree with you. See, I have only seen Steven Spielberg films in my childhood. I saw JURASSIC PARK and thought of becoming a filmmaker. I haven't seen Andrei Tarkovsky’s films, to declare to myself that I will become a director. I had seen only mainstream cinema. Only after joining film school was I exposed to these other filmmakers. But I always liked the classical structure. That's how my brain conditioning works. Maybe that's the reason why when Umebayashi was working on the music I always wanted him to be classical in nature. Because otherwise it would be a jarring thing. If you notice, I'm narrating the story classically. The story slowly starts off and then advances to the climax. It's a very classical way of writing. Very slowly it'll go up. It needs a certain time. So I thought the music should take the same path. We tried various methods and there was a time when I was like, okay, I'm in a total disaster now. But I think he was very pretty helpful in guiding me back. And then he told me: "Jatla. I think this is how it has to be."
Lisabona Rahman: This film makes use of vivid colours, especially for the poor worker characters. In one way it accentuates their appearance. On the other hand, it disrupts the overall realism that your film offers. Why did you choose this treatment, which is also a shift from your previous film.
JS: Here are two reasons. I'm a cinematographer also, right? I was quite inspired by Zhang Yimou's films. And if you see his films like RAISE THE RED LANTERN or JU DOU or YELLOW EARTH and all that, they also show realism. But there is a very strong visual style to it. Maybe that is the influence I had. But, to tell you honestly, these villages, where these forests were…for me everything looked so beautiful. That place is stunning. There is lot of poverty around, and a lot of sadness, but everything else, the air, the quality of light, and even their dress, everything was so colourful and beautiful. So I thought that I really have to do justice to show exactly how it is. So I haven't used any filters or anything special. What you think is visually stunning is actually just me setting up the camera. That's it. It's the most natural. I don't even think in daylight I have used any lights, I just shot it.
CB: So it's still realism.
SJ: Yes. For me, colours are more than the beauty itself. That's true of India. Even if people are living in harsh conditions, there is incredible beauty. The costumes are inspired by that conflicting reality. The colours are also a symbol of optimism and stand for hope and desire for better life. Especially the transformation of Prabhata's sari at the climax as she feels the emotion of their love story. It might be different with how similar conditions are portrayed in other films from the West, but that is how lively and vivid India looks.
CB: I would like to talk about the ending of your film when Prabhata tries to talk her husband out of his plan, and she does very lively things to achieve this: she makes a fire, she starts to talk, but she also has her own agenda. A shift in their relationship. What kind of relationship is it?
JS: I think I should give an example: When I used to visit my uncle and aunt, they were already a little older. I had always seen my uncle serious. Even when I used to come to his home, he was always serious in life. So I was like, is this guy the same with his wife also? But the problem in the Indian system is that, if you are beyond 40 years old, you cannot express your love to your partner openly anymore, because there are children, grandchildren. One day, I think I was sleeping and I kind of heard my uncle and aunt, and he was talking to her so romantically, you wouldn't believe it. I felt, my God, is this the same guy who is so serious in life, suddenly now so romantic? Many years later I told them that I heard it, and I think that this impression was so strongly inside my head that I put the exact same thing in the film. The first half of the film, we don't see anything. He is a very typical Indian man. They don't express feelings. But when the two are in their private moment, you will actually see deep their love is, and also what’s at stake. Also, I'm a hugely influenced by Kim Ki-duk and how he shows an arc of human emotion.
BW: What do you love about Kim Ki-duk?
JS: I think two things I have learned from him. How to narrate a story with the lowest of budgets. None of his films had big budgets, and still he narrates the story so well. The power of writing. Second, we start off thinking his story is going in one direction and then suddenly it takes a complete U-turn and goes another way. And you're like, whoa – you didn't even expect it. That's the same thing I tried in this film. You follow the son and you think the son is going to go, and suddenly the old husband and wife really shock you with their love story. You can say that it's a tribute to Kim Ki-duk. I'm indebted to him. That's what it is. Yeah.
BW: But now you yourself are taking off …
JS: Well, I’m most proud to have had the chance to work with Oscar award winning sound designer Resul Pookutty, who was also an incredible support to me in many ways, personally and on the film. He won the Oscar for SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. Then we have Shigeru Umebayashi, one of the greatest composers in cinema. Since film school, I have loved Yumeji's Theme from IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE and I wanted to work with a master of telling a love story through music. Then we have a makeup artist who is also one of the best. Prosthetics and makeup are done by one of the most top notch character designers of India, Preetisheel Singh from Da MakeUp Lab. Each came onboard for the love of the film, despite a relatively humble budget, and I’m grateful for their partnership.
As a filmmaker, my job is to tell a good story and to try to make all these common Indian people who are mostly invisible in the press visible as human beings – not political facts and figures
LR: What is the significance of class in your stories and why is it important?
JS: This is not a film about social class, but the universal truth that the powerful will always exploit the powerless. As a film director, I shot the scenes based on my observations and I really want people to understand that reality that I experienced, and also to experience the hope and love I also felt in the village amongst the families, which is both inspiring and also speaks to what is at stake.
BW: But still, it's a co-production of five countries and regions, India, USA, China, Indonesia and Taiwan. Was that a deliberate choice?
JS: The United States and China have been with me right from the start of the film. Taiwan was also there from the beginning. Indonesia came in during the post-production, once they saw the film. The biggest problem that happened to this film, was Covid-19. Because of the pandemic, these funds stopped. And I was not ready to wait because by then I had already invested four years. However, the story had so big energy and liveliness that it survived the pandemic and attracted still more producers.
There is a belief we hold, that whatever the world changes hope and love are the only necessity. What's more, hope and love have no borders – nor do films. That's why it is also lucky to bring so many people with different background together for this very honest film.
BW: To wrap it up. I was surprised that when talking about the harsh situation of farmers in India there seems to be a lot of political tension, including the ‘wording’. You pin down the social or class question to holding power or not. It would be interesting to hear more about that.
JS: Often when there is discussion about the crisis for farmers, the discourse is political, which I understand. But as a director, I wanted to show the human story and make a human statement. This is a complicated problem involving so many social, historical and cultural elements, and we as an entire society are responsible to do what we can to help alleviate human struggles. Even Bhagole, in his own way, does this in the film. And I wanted to show that we are all responsible to understand what is happening and to help another family, another person, who is struggling. As a filmmaker, my job is to tell a good story and to try to make all these common Indian people who are mostly invisible in the press visible as human beings – not political facts and figures. The world will see that their lives are just the same as the lotus, always growing out of the worst situation but still blooming in the end. They don't give up hope.
