The Great Shamsuddin Family, written and directed by Anusha Rizvi, is a feel-good comedy drama led by a predominantly female cast set inside a middle-class Indian family. Just released in the theatres on December 12, this film comes nearly 15 years after Rizvi’s last film and a well-regarded one, Peepli Live. The film unfolds in the protagonist Bani’s home, where a series of unexpected events push each character to confront the vulnerability and emotional baggage hidden behind their cheerful exteriors.
The protagonist is an academic. From Bani’s struggle to work, the narrative branches into a chain of complications: a cousin in a dire financial situation, an old mother and her friends leaving for Umrah, a male friend showing up with a young girl, an interfaith couple. Amid the chaos, hilarity emerges while themes of interfaith marriage, tradition versus modernity, and liberalism are explored with subtlety. Excerpts of a conversation with Rizvi in which she reflects on the film’s origins, themes and creative choices.
How do real-life absurdities and your sense of humour shape the emotional tone of the film?
The screenplay depends on the script I produce, which is in turn influenced by my writing style. When you start writing a character, they slowly develop their own persona and the script follows that path. Humour comes naturally to me. I’ve often found myself in absurd situations, and that has always fascinated me. Reality, as people say, is stranger than fiction. For instance, the moment when an interfaith couple go to get married, the registrar has a heart attack, this actually is taken from real life—the incident left around 30 couples stranded. It is all about finding humour in unexpected places. This is a feel-good drama built on situational comedy. However, the film carries no bitterness. It isn’t a story about malice, even with the characters’ flaws.
How would you describe Baani as a character, and what does she represent in contemporary India?
Bani, the film’s protagonist, is a young academic juggling an interview and a looming deadline. Her attempts to focus are repeatedly interrupted as people stream in and out of her home. While her character seems simple and straightforward at first, the various facets of her life slowly unravel as the film goes on. This gives her a complex, layered personality shaped by the baggage she carries.
It feels as if the universe is conspiring against her. This is exactly how people live in modern-day India—there is a constant overlap, constant interruption. In the film you’ll find Bani working, yet her maid asks her where to keep the salt. In modern India, women who Work from Home (WFH) often have a very different experience than men. The maid always goes to the woman, never the man.
How did the writing process begin, and how were the comedic subplots developed within the screenplay?
The film did not originally begin with Baani at all. It was supposed to start with a male character. The core idea came from a friend, that it would work to make Bani an academic whose friend stayed in her house for three weeks without any clear reason. As I wrote, new characters emerged and brought their own stories.”
What was the journey of this film like?
The seeds of the project were planted nearly eight years ago when the script won the Asia-Pacific Screenwriter Award. But delays in funding kept the film in limbo. Each film has its own journey. Some take an easy path, while others face delays and hurdles. The wait makes it all the more gratifying. This film grew out of everyday life , things you witness around you, conversations you hear, the rhythm of families.
Why does Humayun’s tomb appear repeatedly in the film?
It is very much a part of Delhi. Apart from the film Gulmohar (2023), which captured the real city, most films show only Old Delhi. Delhi is a sprawling city and there are other parts to Delhi, hence I wanted to portray the beauty of Humayun’s tomb.
What were some examples of editing that elevated the film’s mood?
Editor Kunal Saxena shaped the film’s rhythm and clarity. Editing can make or break a film. He worked with us for four months and brought immense precision to the scenes. He sharpened dialogues, refined and elevated the shots. For instance, we had shot a terrace scene which was supposed to be a long shot, but through editing and sound design the shot duration was cut which completely transformed the scene and gave an impact that wouldn't have been possible otherwise.
The ending leaves some threads unresolved. What guided the choice to keep it open-ended? Bani’s final moment, joining the sangeet with a quiet smile, is intentionally ambiguous.
It appears she may have decided to go to the USA, or she may still be thinking through her decision. But some of the emotional weight she carries does lift by the end. Ultimately, the film shines a light on female friendships and the richness of sisterhood beyond blood ties. It highlights how older women support one another in everyday life, how strong they are, and how much they quietly endure. These are aspects seldom explored on screen.