In spite of starting a few hours late due to tardy actors (who knew actors could be primadonnas – that came as a complete shock to me!), we actually finished an hour ahead of schedule (putting us at merely a 13-hour day!), thanks to some creative shot re-planning and a few blessed daylight exterior shots. For the most part, our actors were pretty good, although one was a bit of the classically overzealous Bengali ilk, flailing his arms and contorting his face like a clown. But it was all for the better, as our parable slowly transformed from a simple morality tale to a tongue-in-cheek rendering of a thought-provoking story, complete with a comedic, almost Spaced-like style. When you consider the carefully-conceived melodrama of Bengali movie posters, often with blood and guts, guns and babes, the simplicity and boredom of the movies is somewhat disappointing; but I think we’ll deliver on that same high bar of cheesiness, contributing the added bonus of a good story. More than anything I’ve ever done, I think it will inspire both thought and laughter.

The film industry in Dhaka is very small – a micro-bit of the Indian film industry, which it closely resembles. Most stories involve tons of Bengali singing, dancing, and romancing, with plenty of obligatory danger and action, overplayed in an almost cartoonish tone by a small revolving door of frequently-appearing players employed in the “studio system,” essentially. But don’t be taken in by this description, even if you enjoy more than your fair share of Hindi cheese, because Bengali cinema definitely has a less sophisticated style with much lower production values. Most projects, shot on video with minimal art direction and a visual sensibility somewhere between kung fu and “Miami Vice,” are aimed at Bangladeshi television rather than cinema. In spite of having little to no appeal to an international audience, the locals eat these movies up, and so the local industry continues to churn them out in a voracious, Bollywood-style fashion; only, in this case, it’s called “Dhallywood.”

Whenever BCM does a narrative production, they go straight to the top and hire these well-known national celebrities, with little of the hassle and game-playing we’re used to in the West: we just call the actor up and ask him to meet us at our office. No agents, managers, lawyers, or assistants: just Tajul, our office manager, and the celeb. In fact, the ones BCM has worked with before are always keen to meet with us, even on a moment’s notice, because we generally pay them more, and give them their paycheque much faster than the national production companies with whom they’re used to working. And yesterday was no different. We pinpointed an actor called Anwar and called him to ask if he was available for our film on Friday. Sure enough, he said yes, and agreed to come to our office and chat about it – all on the same day, in between 2 shoots he was working on. When he arrived at our office, I was surprised at the universality of actor-dom: naturally, he was shorter and smaller than any of us, with the obligatory over-swelled ego, congenial personality, and swooning praise. He was dressed in a distressed jean jacket over a skin-tight navy blue tee, and expensive-looking washed jeans with several names, logos, and brands imprinted all over the legs. To make things even better, he pulled out some age-revealing reading spectacles when confronting the script, making his faux-modern stylishness look even more ridiculous. After agreeing to do our film – which he honestly did seem excited about – he replaced his sexy specs with some über-cool shades and made his way out of the office, his absence leaving a void in the excited atmosphere created by his presence.