Debut actor Zahan Kapoor on living up to the family’s legacy

The scion of Bollywood’s illustrious Kapoor clan marks his entry on the big screen with Faraaz

There are quite a few times in director Hansal Mehta’s labour of love, Faraaz, that you are reminded of a young Shashi Kapoor, as debutant Zahan Kapoor comes into the frame. It is not just mere resemblance. Zahan, after all, is the late actor’s grandson. In a career spanning more than five decades, Shashi, the youngest son of legendary actor Prithviraj Kapoor, went on to shine not only in mainstream blockbusters such as Waqt, Deewar, Namak Halal and Silsila but also carved a niche for himself in some of the finest Indian films such as Junoon and New Delhi Times as well as Merchant Ivory productions such as Heat and Dust and In Custody among others.

It might be too early to say how near or far the apple has fallen from the tree. Still, Zahan’s understated entry on the big screen, devoid of any of the trappings usually associated with star kids’ debuts—flawless bodies, stylish designer wear, exotic outdoor locales and the ability to dance, fight and do intense/comedy scenes with equal aplomb—is telling of where he wants to place himself in the spectrum. In Faraaz, based on the terrorist attack on a café in Dhaka, Bangladesh, in 2016, Zahan plays the titular role of the young man who stood up as a voice of reason when bullets were being sprayed on innocent people. The 30-year-old is keen to build his repertoire from here and continue serving the maker’s vision—both on stage and in front of the camera. 

Edited excerpts from a conversation with someone his first director introduced to the media as an “unlikely hero”.

You have chosen to make your big-screen debut with a film like Faraaz when you could have easily made a more mainstream entry. Coming from somebody who belongs to the first family of Bollywood, this can be construed as someone trying to make a statement. Do you see it that way? 

I don’t think I intended to make any statement. As much of perception as it is, and yes, I am from this family but the truth is that I grew up very unlike many people who would be categorised typically as growing up in the film industry if you are in the immediate circles of the business. My grandfather was already retired by the time I was born. He was just an older man at home to me. I didn’t understand who this man was in terms of public and social relevance. Even at home, we would watch contemporary cinema. My father was an ad filmmaker, and my mom, a photographer, so I grew up in a very creative atmosphere but not in a very filmy atmosphere.

I was exposed to many adventures from a young age—from spending time in Goa and living like a hippie to travelling around the country, learning to ride a horse and playing sports. Some people are told right from childhood that ‘yaar, tu toh star banega’. That was not the case with me. I was allowed to explore things organically. I discovered my love for this profession on a film set when I started to work at the age of 15-16. I began to find the joy of what it meant to create and write. So I made a short film of my own.

Simply put, I don’t think I am trying to make a statement but trying to do my part and be responsible for my craft. I want to push forward the filmmaker’s vision and participate in this industry of storytellers, culture shapers and communicators.

Director Hansal Mehta mentioned in an interview that you came free of your legacy, otherwise, you would not have chosen this film as your debut. How did this project come to you? 

Hansal Sir is a genuine and honest filmmaker. He believes in his subjects and tries to do justice to them. So it was a leap of faith for him to cast me. He had seen an audition tape of mine from two years ago and he called up casting director Mukesh Chhabra to ask about me. Once he got his vote of confidence, things fell into place organically. I take great pride in the fact that we went on the journey of Faraaz together. There was no story then, just the idea of making this film. So we connected right from the beginning, which was the most beautiful thing for me.

I love commercial cinema as well, and it is not that I have decided only to do such films. It is just that this is how it happened, and I am grateful and excited to be able to build from this.

Although you play the titular role, we start noticing you almost somewhere around midway through the film. Could you see why he needs to come into the limelight only much later? Tell us about the process of becoming Faraaz—the guy who stood up to the terrorists that night in Dhaka. 

The prep for becoming Faraaz started with us visiting Dhaka and imbibing the stories and interpretations from people who saw or experienced that night. I researched by scouring the internet for resources. There is a lot available online about the investigation and Faraaz. As the screenplay shaped up, the process became about our approach to the scenario. Unlike a film like Uri where the central character has been trained to deal with a crisis, there was a sudden and unpredictable event that no one could handle. So the approach became about committing to the scenario and letting imagination do its work.

This is the story of someone who bore witness to an incident. It was the emergence of the character as against the study of a character, which is what  Scam 1992 or Shahid is. This is an extremely challenging role because there is so little to do. I was always very jealous of Aditya (Rawal, the antagonist), and told him that he had the more striking part. But on the other hand, I had to speak in a whisper, keep a low profile and be controlled and reserved but allow that to erupt at the right moment when I am compelled to stand up.

You are one of the rare ones in your family of actors to have honed your acting skills in theatre. How does it feel to take your great-grandfather Prithviraj Kapoor’s legacy ahead? 

I am the only member in the family, apart from my dad (Kunal Kapoor) and aunt (Sanjna Kapoor), who have stood on the Prithvi Theatre stage and performed. While they have done small parts, I have completed a full-length Hindi play. Coincidentally, the third performance of Pitaji Please was staged at the Royal Opera House [in Mumbai]. It was where Prithviraj Kapoor had his office in his early years of starting Prithvi Theatre. It is a huge stroke of fortune that I can participate in these circular ways, like an echo of things that have happened before me, so that is the side I am proud of.

How much has stagecraft and your understanding of it helped in front of the camera? 

Undoubtedly, it has. The actor’s craft and responsibility to behave truthfully under imaginary circumstances are the same; the technical requirements are slightly different. With theatre, there are rehearsals, and we get to revisit the performance with every new show. It’s tangible because it is live. The experience and cumulative effect are irreplaceable. I love being on stage and in the rehearsal room, but I equally love the magic of cinema and how we can create larger worlds. I am very keen to be a participant on both sides. In fact, Aditya and I are working on a play together that he has written. Hopefully, I will be someone who will straddle both sides because it is the work that gives me joy, not the outcome.

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