Thrown into the limelight with the success of his directorial debut Balagam, actor-comedian-filmmaker Venu Yeldandi is endearingly overwhelmed with the reception of the movie, its impact on families and the values it espouses. From being a household name in Jabardasth, the 48-year-old has now carved space for himself in the heart of the common man.
Venu talks to TNIE in Hyderabad Dialogues on showing the real Telangana, transitioning from acting to directing and his life behind the screen.
How has the reception for Balagam been so far?
I knew it would be a good film, I expected it to create conversations and make heads turn because we have not explored such a deeply rooted story in Telugu. However, I did not see this film becoming a blockbuster. I saw entire villages congregating and watching the film together. When I went to Tirupati, I had the pleasure of listening to the head priests telling me how much they loved my film. A person showed me his phone and said that he watches my film at least three-four times a day.
The movie is also reuniting estranged siblings and family members. We have heard close to 20 stories of families reuniting after watching my film. The most endearing part is, it is not my film anymore. It has become a people’s movie now. At this point, even if I am willing to dissect Balagam, people may not agree with that decision (chuckles). The film has exceeded expectations.
We are seeing politicians incorporate the word Balagam prominently into their rhetoric now.
I am glad that even the title of the film is going places. That word exudes power and love; it is versatile enough to be used in any sentence. My story demanded a title as hefty, especially because it is the death of the old man Komurayya, that sets the film in motion.
It is he who believed, “Kalisi unte ne balam balagam” (strength lies in togetherness). I considered around 20-30 titles before zeroing in on Balagam. Raju garu (Dil Raju, the film’s presenter) initially felt Balagam might not be apt for a small film. It took me a month to convince him, and he eventually came around.
Mainstream Telugu cinema is characterised by a formula consisting of action sequences, item songs and family values. What made you choose such an experimental subject for your debut film?
I beg to differ on the formula part. Item songs and glamour are not our formulae. Sankarabharanam is our formula. Matrodeva Bhava is our formula. Pushpa, Bahubali, Megha Sandesham, these films are our formula. The foundation for our formula is emotions; the way it is expressed may vary from film to film but the emotional core is constant. The Telugu formula is amazing and the entire country is following it now.
As far as experimentation is concerned, I would not have got as much respect if I had not done something different.
Puri Jagannadh always says, “There is no life when you take no risks.” I believe that. I wrote a couple of stories before stumbling upon the idea to write Balagam, but those stories were too regular; they did not give me that kick. Then I remembered the time when my father passed away and everything that happened following his demise. That is how Balagam was born.
What pushed you to write this film?
Jabardasth changed my life; I earned the name, fame and a lot of money. At one point, Dhanraj, my fellow Jabardasth alum, and I were living out of suitcases, travelling to Australia and Dubai and back to India, constantly working all the time.
As great as it was, I could not help but feel that I was getting farther away from films, farther away from my dreams. So after working in Jabardasth for two years, I left it all, at the peak of my career, in pursuit of that coveted big break. I had some experience as a writer; so I thought, why don’t I write a film for myself to act in? I wrote Balagam over a period of two and a half to three years.
I wanted to be sure that my experiences were not merely personal and to verify that, I travelled to 10-15 villages. I called up friends and asked them to huddle up people together. I would arrange food and drinks for them and listen to their life experiences.
One of them told me a story of how, when an old woman died, her younger son refused to let her corpse leave the home for the final rites because he wanted the Panchayat to resolve a land issue in his favour. That is how I got the idea for the subplot involving Komurayya’s younger son, who wanted to sell off his share of the land.
What was the toughest part about writing this film?
I agonised a lot over not making the audience uncomfortable at the sight of a dead body being in the frame for almost 30 minutes. The sight of a corpse is not easy on the eyes, nor does it signal positivity. I tried writing those portions in a way that would make all of it less awkward. I researched a lot, and watched films in all languages, to get a better understanding of how to crack such a scene.
Who are the filmmakers you look up to?
Mani Ratnam is my all-time favourite director. I have learnt how to deal with newcomers from Teja. I have learnt the value of brevity in writing from Trivikram, how to craft a perfect scene from Sukumar and I have learnt how to create effective masala moments from Puri Jagannadh.
Speaking of newcomers, you have worked with a lot of them in your film.
It was a conscious choice to go with new faces. I did not want their filmography to superimpose on my characters. The actors I have worked with are new to the world of cinema but they are not new to the world of acting. I am so glad that my actors Jayaram, Vijayalakshmi and Roopa Lakshmi have got deserved recognition with Balagam.
What was your life like before films?
I am the ninth and last kid of my parents. I come from a working-class family in Sircilla, Telangana. It was a hand-to-mouth existence. My father was a strong believer in being self-reliant and skilled at physical labour. If we wanted to drink water, we had to dig up a well. If we wanted our house to have a door, my father expected us to chop a tree and build a door from scratch. My dad would rather have us do everything and save money, rather than pay a professional.
I would always entertain people in my hometown, be it in school or while I was working in the vegetable market. I was also a state-level Shaolin Kung-fu champion and an instructor to around 50 students. By nature, I always liked being a cut above the rest. My background is very simple and rooted, but I have always been very different, which is probably why I am in the cinema now.
Your story is so rooted in the culture of Telangana. The Telugu film industry is predominantly dominated by the people and the cultural mores of Andhra. How did the industry respond to your story?
I believe the acceptance a film receives has little to do with regions and much more to do with the subject and the story at hand. Rooted stories are not entirely new; Pelli Choopulu was also a rooted story. That said, timing also plays a role in the acceptance of films.
Post the release of my film, I got calls from nearly everyone in the industry, from established filmmakers and actors to newcomers and aspirants. Chiranjeevi sir, who appreciated the film, told me, “I was expecting the film’s flashback to be dramatic. But you have shown how a family gets divided over something as trivial as mutton pieces. How did you get the courage to write something like this?” It was heartening to hear such kind words from everyone in the Telugu film industry.
Balagam received two sharp criticisms. Traditionalists question why Komurayya’s sons never get their heads tonsured after their father’s death while the rationalists have taken offence at how you have seemingly promoted superstitions with the crow ritual.
As a filmmaker, you do take certain creative liberties. The family is under a lot of duress because the crow is not eating the food it has been offered. In fact, you see how the family’s excitement progressively wanes from the third day to the fifth to the eleventh in the way the food is presented to the crow three times.
The Panchayat also raises objections after a point, going as far as threatening to banish and excommunicate the family. In such a situation, I don’t think it would have occurred to them to shave their heads. As far as the latter issue is concerned, it is a matter of faith and tradition and history of the land. These rituals are all the more important when someone has passed away. Plus, the crows were also a device to propel the film’s story ahead while heightening its conflicts.
Your film’s climax scene has received a lot of praise, particularly for the Budaga Jangam artists in it. Could you share your experiences of shooting those scenes?
We shot the climax scene over a period of three days. The Budaga Jangam artists are traditionally known to perform at funerals in Telangana. The last part truly moved everyone on the set to tears. Even the cinematographer, the light man and the focus puller of our film welled up. Mogilayya Komaram and his wife have sung and performed in our film. The tune is all theirs, we got it finetuned for the big screen with the help of our lyricist Shyam Kasarla and the film’s music composer Bheems Ceciroleo.
What is the difference between the Venu who acted in Jabardasth and the Venu who directed Balagam?
There is not much difference, to be honest. There is more responsibility and fear, considering people now have high expectations about what I am going to do next.
So, what is next?
I will be working on a bigger film, to be produced by Dil Raju, under the Sri Venkateswara Creations banner.