Rahul Bhat On Kennedy, Anurag Kashyap & Playing Characters On The Fringes
The actor talks about everything from his new movie, Kennedy, to his acting journey so far, among other things
Rahul Bhat is not interested in the safety of convention – he'd rather gravitate towards playing fractured, morally ambiguous men and telling stories that sit in discomfort rather than resolution. Be it the Netflix series Black Warrant or his collaborations with Anurag Kashyap in Ugly and Dobaaraa, Bhat’s performances are marked by restraint and a refusal to over-explain emotions. Now that his third collaboration with Kashyap, Kennedy, has finally released in India, three years after it premiered at Cannes, the actor discusses everything from his characters, career and Kashyap’s cinema. Edited excerpts:
This is your third collaboration with Anurag Kashyap. How has your creative dynamic with him evolved over time?
Anurag pushes me into uncomfortable silences. He strips the performance down to the truth. He is not all about the makeup and the external touch-ups; he is more about the internal and the intensity of it. We share a bond that has evolved over the work we have done, and I trust him a lot. I know he will not let me fall. So I have that kind of faith in him.
What excited you the most as an actor about Kennedy?
The fact that this man was so emotionally numb unsettled me. He isn’t evil, but he is empty. What excited me most was playing it with restraint. It wasn’t about adding, but subtraction. I had to bring stillness without underplaying it or overplaying it. It was the same approach towards the violence. You have to downplay it in this kind of a film, since it is mechanical and not expressive. The less you act it, the more disturbing it becomes. Violence needs to be performed through the eyes, and a lot has to be imagined by the audience. You don’t fully show it. In the film, it isn’t graphic, but the violence is depicted in a way where the audience is already imagining what could have been. That is a very typical approach of a great filmmaker — they don’t show it, they express violence in a different way.
What was your process of inhabiting a man who is constantly awake — mentally and physically — and how did you access that internal unrest without externalising it?
I worked on stillness, because insomnia isn’t loud; it’s corrosive. The unrest had to sit behind the eyes, not in gestures. So it was important to look dishevelled, contain the energy of not sleeping, and convert it into a very restrained performance.
The film is in ambiguity. I don’t think it has a moral centre — that is the whole idea of Kennedy. He is a product of his ecosystem, which has turned him into a cold, brutal person. But it is also a commentary on current affairs. I don’t think Anurag, or films of this kind, deal in right or wrong; it’s more circumstantial.
The Mumbai in Kennedy feels nocturnal and almost hallucinatory.
Mumbai is a character in the film, and Anurag has a relationship with the city — the way he perceives and presents it through his own lens. He made Black Friday, Ugly, and this film too feels like a love letter to the city. Mumbai feels nocturnal; at night it has a very different energy. That song, “Yeh Mumbai Shehr Hadson Ka Shehr Hai”, feels so Mumbai. Especially in this film, it’s about the relationship between the man and the city.
You’ve consistently chosen roles outside the conventional commercial framework. Do you see Kennedy as a continuation of that journey or a turning point? Also, when a film is delayed, does it feel like suspended closure — as though the character hasn’t fully left you?
It’s a continuation. I don’t choose these characters — somehow, when a director writes a complex character, they think of me, and I’m glad they do. I like characters on the fringes, not at the centre all the time. Regarding delays, when you’ve spent time in Mumbai, you realise that some things are not in your hands. It’s best to leave certain things to people who know it better. Box office results, release strategies, marketing and distribution are not in the hands of actors.
Does festival validation compensate for a delayed domestic release, or are those two entirely different forms of fulfilment?
Festivals validate craft, while a theatrical release connects you to your own people. They each have their own charm. When you attend festivals like Cannes, Toronto or Venice, where film connoisseurs and cinephiles appreciate your work, it’s a different lens. But when your film releases in theatres in your own country, for your own people, it gives you a different high.
When critically acclaimed films struggle with release timelines, what does that reveal about the current Hindi film ecosystem?
It shows risk aversion. The space is still there, but it’s definitely narrower for complex storytelling. That said, complex stories have always been difficult to tell. We’ve had filmmakers like Satyajit Ray, Ritwik Ghatak, Shyam Benegal, Govind Nihalani and Ketan Mehta. There were actors like Naseeruddin Shah, Smita Patil, Shabana Azmi and Om Puri. It’s always been challenging, but art always finds its art lover.
What can we expect next?
More work that is interesting and challenging. I’ve finished four films — Lost and Found in Kumbh, a love story opposite Dia Mirza, Madhur Bhandarkar’s The Wives, and I’m currently shooting for a Netflix show.