Ghaath director Chhatrapal Ninawe: I like to amplify the voices of the marginalised through my work

I cannot speak for the whole industry. According to some curators and senior industry people, Ghaath stands out in Marathi cinema due to its nonlinear storytelling. While the industry is rich and diverse, typically offering family- and female-oriented subjects, a genre film with this kind of narrative is largely unexplored, with Court (2014) being a notable exception in recent times.

Akira Kurosawa is my favourite filmmaker; he truly inspired me to craft compelling stories and films. I also admire Shohei Imamura, whose raw, sudden violence aligns with my style, and Sergio Leone. So in a way, many of the influences on Tarantino have also influenced me. I love Tarantino because his writing is excellent. Tarantino is a great filmmaker, so my work might carry a semblance of his. However, I always strive for originality in my writing.

As a filmmaker, when you go to Berlinale and then you travel up, do a festival circuit across the world, you receive all kinds of feedback. The most unique feedback is about the politics of it. One female critic, who was part of the jury in Aurangabad International Film Festival (AIFF), called it an anti-left film. And I was taken aback because a critic and my mentor in Work in Progress Lab said it is a pro-Maoist film. I wonder why this is happening. My politics was unambiguous. For me, ideology is secondary, and the lives of characters matter more. I consider Ghaath less of a political film; it is a simple and a personal story based on characters. It is evident in the film that I am taking the side of tribals. But some right-wingers say it is a left-leaning film, and some left-oriented people say it is a right-leaning film because I have shown Maoism in a bad light. And some of my mentors and critics also said it is a very balanced film.

From my office boy, who witnessed the editing process, to Marco Muller, former president of the Venice International Film Festival, everyone loved Perku (Janardan Kadam). We anticipated this during production; the character truly sparked our excitement in the writing phase.

Yes, it was born out of the plot point involving a dead body. Some of the audience members said that Perku's death disengaged them from the film—so profound was its impact.

Some indeed see it as a bold film because it veers into unexpected territory. Conversely, this very unpredictability also draws criticism. Ultimately, Ghaath is for those who embrace unconventional narratives.

Very much so. Nagpure is frustrated. He is the kind of person who is not suited for a job near the Maoist camp, in the jungle, and that is the reason why he keeps drinking. He quarrels with his wife regularly. That is the reason why he is almost suicidal and is a drunkard.

Yes. It is like killing your good self. There is also a line before the killing where Perku says, ‘Think of me like a free bird in your jungle, your heart’. For the cop to get out of that area, he might have to kill something good inside him. Perku represents that something good he found in the jungle and something different from him. He is free and happy in that area. And he is also the guiding force for the cop.

Beyond the political interpretations, subtle but fascinating insights emerged from the festival circuit. For instance, after the Berlin premiere, a German gentleman—a former guerrilla from Russian-occupied East Germany—approached me. He shared that he could empathise with Raghunath (Milind Shinde). I never imagined that a guerrilla from East Berlin or East Germany would empathise with an Indian Maoist.

Absolutely. In an earlier independent film, which never saw festival play or release, I experimented with a running shot and a tracking shot—similar to the one in Ghaath where Falgun (Dhananjay Mandaokar) cycles towards the ACP. This early experience gave me confidence to film such scenes. I also learnt how to use natural light. We maximised natural light in Ghaath, often shooting early in the mornings. I understood the importance of timing in filmmaking from my experiences growing up in independent cinema, where resources like professional lighting crews were often unavailable.

My three-minute short film (A Cheque of Death) is like a thriller on farmer suicide. In it, a man gets government compensation because he killed his farmer father, and he urges one of his friends to do the same. I like to amplify the voices of the marginalised, although it depends on the story and is not always possible. In Ghaath, I could do it. And I would like to tell it (such a story) in an interesting format that is accessible to the audience. That is the kind of cinema I would love to do.