113I’ve been here for 15-16 years, it’s not my comfort zone,
I need to get my head around it. I can’t [afford to] feel
like I know exactly what’s going on, and exactly what
I need to do next. So I’m trying to keep it simple, and
eventually I’ll go with my instinct and my gut.”
The 38-year-old’s career has been a bit of a puzzle so
far, with pieces that never seemed to fit. Kabir Singh
has been a watershed moment. Yet, even as it breaches
the mammoth `300 crore mark, I ask if the victory has
been somewhat dampened by its critical reception,
with some calling the film a paean to toxic masculinity?
Kapoor disagrees. He’s gratified by the “intense and
strong” love coming his way. “I feel like people are loving
the film and the character – almost the way Kabir loves
Preeti,” he says.
“I’ve read every review of Kabir Singh. The negative
ones felt like propaganda. People who had a narrative
they wanted to focus on used Kabir Singh as an
opportunity.” Judging by the snaking lines outside
cinema halls, comments on social media as well as news
reports of teenagers fudging their age on Aadhar cards
to bypass the film’s adult certification, it’s clear the
movie has created an unprecedented stir.
Kapoor views the movie as an example of a little
film that could. “The two most successful films of this
year are Kabir Singh and Uri. Nobody thought these
films would get these numbers.” The industry practice
of calling films “big” or “small” before they’ve released
makes little sense to him. “The size of a film shouldn’t
be defined by the money that went into making it. A big
film that makes little money is a small film. And vice
versa. Today, the idea has to be big.”
Kapoor is amused by how quickly the perception
around him has changed. “Sometimes it’s so obvious
how people are affected by success. It’s funny.” For him,
it means that, “those people who believed and stood
by me are likely feeling validated. Today, I can look
at them and I feel, ‘Maybe this is what you wanted to
say to all those people who said... I’m over, like I won’t
amount to much.’”
But Kapoor, whose own filmography reflects a
resolute commitment to his craft, is the first to concede
that playing the numbers game alone is ultimately self-
defeating. “I felt I did some really good work [in Haider
and Udta Punjab]. But a lot of appreciation has come
my way – more than I deserve – with Kabir Singh. So
what’s changed? The number. That’s it.”
As we wrap up, I turn off the recording app on my
iPhone, then remember I have two more questions.
Kapoor recently posted a picture of his new BMW R
1250 GS Motorrad bike on Instagram, and has been
doing short road trips outside Mumbai. He’d told
me in a previous interview that it was something he
might give up after getting married, because it was
dangerous. Turns out, he’d stopped riding for a while,
but picked it up again a few months ago. The Kabir
Singh effect, I ask? Living a little on the wild side?
Kapoor looks surprised. “You know, actors create
characters,” he says. “If anything, he’s influenced by
me. I created Kabir Singh.”A
mong the things that haven’t
changed for Kapoor: his obsession
with retail therapy. A regular fixture
on GQ’s Best-Dressed List, he likes
“the slightly alternative stuff ”. Kapoor checks his online
shopping history, and reels off some of his favourite
brands: A-Cold-Wall*, Palm Angels, GmbH, Iceberg and
menswear by Boris Bidjan Saberi.
He’s sitting opposite me, post-shoot, in a grey “Art
is Truth” Zadig & Voltaire sweatshirt and voluminous
black joggers. “Life exists in shades of grey, it’s not black
or white,” he says. “What excites me is the real. What
I want to represent are certain truths about life, some
of which make you feel hopeful and excited, and others
that make you experience a sense of catharsis.”
Like his fashion choices, Kapoor’s consistently gone
against the grain with his roles, delivering tour de force
performances, playing complex, layered characters on
edge – whether in Kaminey (2009), Haider (2014) or
Udta Punjab (2016). He likes to sink his teeth into roles
that make him feel insecure. “Sometimes, something
comes along, and you feel, ‘Yeah, I got this.’ But my best
work has happened when I’ve had no idea how I’m going
to pull off a role, or I’ve had nothing to draw on from my
past work.”
It’s a trait he shares with his younger contemporaries
rather than an earlier generation of superstars. “I’m
never OK with how I am,” Kapoor says, “I need to keep
changing and learning, even if it’s not always so fast.”
Over the years, he’s channelled this restlessness and
expanded the definition of the self-righteous Hindi film
hero to include a diverse cast of oddball characters: the
madcap bookie with a stutter, the anti-hero descending
into madness, the drug-addled rock star.
That appetite for risk is paying off. “When I started
experimenting, the ecosystem wasn’t as conducive
as it is today. I think the first batch always gets the
headwind.”K^
apoor has always come across as an anomaly
in the Bollywood multiverse, operating at a
considered distance from the tribes that rule
the industry. Which is why it’s mildly surprising to see
him turn up in a casual video of Karan Johar’s house
party the night after our interview. (The powerhouse
producer recently bought the remake rights of Telugu
film Jersey, which Kapoor is reportedly considering
signing up for.) Shot in a single take, the camera pans to
reveal Deepika Padukone, Varun Dhawan, Zoya Akhtar,
Vicky Kaushal, Ranbir Kapoor, Ayan Mukerji, Malaika
Arora, Natasha Dalal. Kapoor, in an electric blue hoodie
with lime green drawstrings, is chatting with Arjun
Kapoor. If this is the inner sanctum, Kapoor has entered
it on his own terms.
But it’s still likely unfamiliar territory. The evening
before, Kapoor told me, “I kind of feel like I don’t belong
here, I feel like a newcomer. I need to figure out this new
room, and this new club that I’ve entered. Even though