Pushkar Sunil Mahabal: “Envy can be a pretty decent creative trigger”
The director on his mockumentary, Black, White & Gray; Love Kills, being attracted to psychological complexity, and never wanting to make rom-coms
Where did the idea of making a mockumentary come from?
I’ve been binge-watching true crime documentaries for years – those early 2000s American TV shows like Cold Cases and Forensic Files with their sensational interviews and dramatic re-enactments. I’d sit there wondering if those perfectly timed emotional breakdowns were actually real or just really good acting. Their interviews are so theatrical that I’d find myself thinking, “How can real people be this dramatic on camera?” and “How do these documentary makers get people to be so candid?”
Eventually, the cynic in me started wondering, “Are they even being truthful, or are they just fed these lines?” That’s when it clicked; this could be easily faked. But here’s the tricky part: it would have to walk this incredibly thin line. Not so real that it becomes dull, but not so dramatic that people immediately spot the fakery. It’s like being a con artist, but for entertainment.
Two documentaries finally pushed me over the edge: The Night Stalker and Don’t F**k with Cats. They were so well-made. I remember watching them and feeling this weird mix of admiration and desperation, like I’d never be able to create something that gripping because all I knew was fiction. Then it hit me: what if I just... faked it? A quick internet search later, I discovered the term “mockumentary.” I’d seen Borat, but that was a comedy. So, I thought why not try a crime thriller mockumentary?
The research phase was interesting because there wasn’t really anything like this in serious content, only comedies. My DoP (Director of Photography), Saee Bhope, and I had to devise a completely new template. We were essentially flying blind, which was both terrifying and liberating. Turns out envy can be a pretty decent creative trigger.
I definitely had doubts about whether audiences would buy it. That’s exactly why we went slightly overboard with the poor quality footage for interviews, the no-makeup look, and deliberately flat lighting. Saee designed these two distinct visual languages, the dramatic recreation parts being slightly glossy and stylized, while the interviews looked raw, dirty, and uncomfortably real. We figured if we’re going to lie, we might as well commit to it completely.
Your script often cuts from reality to some wild dream sequences. Was that planned, or did it happen naturally?
Every single cut was written into the script; down to the exact sentence. I marked precisely where we’d transition from interview to fiction, and the specific moments where we’d snap back to reality. Since I was editing the show myself, I could visualize these cuts while writing, which was probably a sign that I spend way too much time thinking about editing.
I’m particularly proud of all the transitions involving the boy playing the accused (the one giving the interviews). Every cut from fiction to his reality, or vice versa, feels dramatically charged. There’s this one moment I absolutely love where an episode ends with the alleged shooter just walking in, sitting on the interview chair, smiling, and saying “Poochho” (Ask me). The actor pulled it off perfectly, the moment is both chilling and somehow charming. But that credit completely goes to both the actors and my music director, Meghdeep Bose.
The balance between making the fictional parts feel realistic while keeping them visually distinct was all Saee’s genius. She wasn’t just shooting; she was designing the entire visual grammar of the show. She was part of the development process from day one, which is crucial for something like this where the DoP isn’t just capturing images but creating the whole aesthetic.
Interestingly, almost all cuts followed the script religiously, except for one: when the boy jumps in the river. Originally, the script didn’t intercut between the fictional boy and the real boy during that sequence. But Sanjay Kumar Sahu, who played the real boy, gave this incredibly long take where he was just remembering what happened, wiping away tears. His performance was so mind-blowing that it forced me to change the edit. I had no choice but to put in those close-ups of his interview during the climax of the fiction part. Sometimes the best moments come from actors surprising you so much that you have to rewrite your plans on the spot.
At what point in your life did you decide to become a screenwriter? Please take me through the journey.
Three years ago, I was going through what I’d call a “dull patch”, basically staring at walls and questioning my life choices. My first film as a director, Welcome Home, had just released and gotten fantastic reviews across all the papers. I was expecting a flood of work after that validation, but... crickets.
I figured I’d try writing something just as a creative exercise. Black, White & Gray was literally the first thing I ever wrote. There wasn’t some grand plan or childhood dream of becoming a writer, there was just nothing else I wanted to tell at that moment, and this story happened to come to me first when I decided to write.
I narrated the initial idea to my DoP Saee Bhope and producer Hemal Thakkar, and they loved it. That was the first validation I needed; having people you trust tell you that your insane idea might actually work. Then Ankita Narang, who wrote Welcome Home, read it and not only loved it but gave some incredibly insightful suggestions.
Honestly, I still don’t know if I have what it takes to be a writer. The advantage I had was being a director too, so I could actually pitch and get the thing made instead of just letting it collect digital dust in some folder. Whether this was beginner’s luck or actual talent… I guess my next script will be the real test. I’m as curious as anyone to find out if this was a fluke. There’s something both exciting and terrifying about not knowing if you’re actually good at something you’ve just started doing.
You directed Welcome Home, but didn’t write it. In case of Black, White & Gray; Love Kills, was there a strong advantage that you were a writer of the show as well?
Not particularly, to be honest, which might sound disappointing, but it’s the truth. The biggest difference was that there was no worry about interpreting someone else’s vision incorrectly. I knew exactly what I’d written and how I intended it to be executed. There were no ego battles, no “but that’s not what I meant” moments, and no need to diplomatically navigate creative disagreements.
The network gave me absolute creative freedom, which was liberating. When you’re both writer and director, improvising or changing scenes on the spot becomes much simpler — you’re only answering to yourself. No need to call the writer and ask if you can tweak a line or restructure a scene. Also having Saee as the DoP and Ankita Narang in the capacity of a Creative Producer, gave me a certain level of ease.
But here’s the thing: I don’t think being the writer fundamentally changed how I worked with actors on set. I would have directed them the same way regardless. I’ve always believed in giving actors freedom to explore their characters, and that approach didn’t change just because the words came from my laptop instead of someone else’s. (I still can’t get myself to write on paper.)
I don’t typically rewrite on the spot during filming, that feels chaotic to me. But I do love improvising during rehearsals with actors, and I give them considerable freedom to find their own way into the characters. Saee works incredibly fast, so everything happens on impulse anyway. We’re all feeding off each other’s energy in real-time.
I had a specific story and format bouncing around in my head, so I wrote it down. Whether that’s an advantage or not, I’m not sure. I genuinely don’t know if I’ll ever come up with something this original again or if this was even that original to begin with. Time will be the judge, I suppose.
Is thriller the only genre you want to work with?
Dark stuff definitely excites me, but I’m not married to thrillers specifically. There’s something about the dark side of the human mind that’s been attractive to people forever; I mean, we can’t forget those chilling looks on the faces of killers like Jeffrey Dahmer and Ted Bundy. Something about them is extremely intriguing, like they are staring back at us.
I get dead bored with rom-coms and slice-of-life stories. I can’t tell you how much I genuinely hate them. But I don’t mind lighter content, as long as the point it’s making has an edge to it. For example, I’d love to write a political satire, something light-hearted on the surface but making strong points that actually make you think. That would be exciting.
I’d happily dive into an action thriller, dark comedy, or even horror. As long as there’s psychological complexity or moral ambiguity involved, I’m probably interested. I think Ram Gopal Varma said something like this in an interview - “Regular stories about regular people having regular problems are boring.” And I completely agree.
I have no idea why, but I keep gravitating toward themes of captivity, resilience, escape, survival, isolation, death, revenge, pain, and anger. Before you start wondering about my mental state, I had a great childhood, no traumas to speak of. I just find these darker human experiences more cinematically rich. Light-hearted rom-coms might be a stretch though; I’d probably find a way to make those dark too, which defeats the purpose entirely.
What is your process of writing?
That’s probably the most honest question you could ask someone who’s written exactly one and a half scripts. My “process” is embarrassingly chaotic. I just start writing random scenes and then desperately try to weave them together like some sort of narrative puzzle. It’s too early to call it a process; it’s more like controlled creative chaos.
I mostly write during afternoons and nights because I’m absolutely not a morning person. There’s something about the quiet of late hours that helps me think, though that could just be because there are fewer distractions.
My editing method is probably the most systematic thing about my approach: I keep re-reading everything again and again. That’s how I edit scenes too; upon re-reading, the worst parts stand out like sore thumbs, and then I can start fixing them. It’s like looking at a rough sketch and suddenly seeing where the proportions are all wrong.
I’ll need to write a few more scripts before I can confidently say I have any method to this madness. Right now, I’m just hoping the random scenes I write actually want to be in the same story together. It’s been a while since I wrote Black, White & Gray, so I honestly have no memory of how specific scenes came together. But I do know when a scene is working versus when it needs to be scrapped, there’s this gut feeling when something clicks into place versus when it feels forced or unnecessary.
Which films and filmmakers have influenced you?
Ram Gopal Varma, hands down. I had the chance to work with him briefly, and in that short time, he gave me something invaluable, not just technical knowledge, but the courage and confidence to just go for it. He’s genuinely one of the most electrifying personalities I’ve encountered in this industry. That energy stays with you long after you’ve left the room.
One specific piece of advice he gave me has stuck: if I follow all the conventional rules of filmmaking, whether business-wise or creatively, why would people be interested in me? I’d just be another filmmaker doing what everyone else does. He said I’d have to do something different, something that’s not readily accepted, “Phir chahe woh poore system ke khilaaf kyu na ho” (A famous line from his film Sarkar). Essentially, he gave me permission to break rules I didn’t even know existed yet.
Anand L Rai is someone I’ve become quite smitten with professionally; I only met him last year. This might sound odd since his films are completely different from the genre I work in. But watching him trust new talent with such conviction was awesome. That takes serious guts. I’m not sure I’ll ever develop that kind of faith in people, but it’s something I deeply admire. Looking at him, I think I need to learn how to trust others creatively, and more importantly, trust them with my hard-earned money. That probably comes with years of experience and a better understanding of human nature, I guess.
These two filmmakers represent different aspects of what I want to develop as a writer/filmmaker: RGV’s fearlessness and Anand Rai’s collaborative wisdom. Whether I can actually embody either of those qualities remains to be seen, but at least I know what I’m aiming for.
Films that have heavily influenced me are Hills Have Eyes, Eden Lake, Haute Tension, Don’t Breathe, Audition, Grudge, Irreversible.
Mihir Chitre is the author of the forthcoming Screenwriters Inc; 33 Masters of the Art and Craft of Screenwriting.
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