'I Strongly Want To React, But at Whose Cost?': Pratik Gandhi on Portraying Jyotirao Phule in 'Phule'

In a time of swirling narratives and contested legacies, Phule — the upcoming biopic on social reformers Jyotirao and Savitribai Phule — asks not just what we remember, but how we remember it. At the centre of this telling is Pratik Gandhi, an actor best known for his breakout as Harshad Mehta in Scam 1992, now stepping into the shoes of a man with far less visual record but arguably greater moral legacy.

In conversation with The Hollywood Reporter India, Gandhi speaks passionately about the physical and emotional process of discovering Jyotiba Phule, embodying history, decoding reverence without deifying, and confronting the very real cost of making politically potent cinema in today’s climate.

There’s a vulnerability in his candour, and yet a steely conviction; that duality, artistic freedom measured against collective consequence, is at the core of being a thinking actor today.

Edited excerpts from a conversation:

Let’s start with Phule. There’s very little visual record of Jyotiba Phule. No video, barely any photographs. How did you find him — not just in research, but physically? Nicole Kidman once said she unlocked Virginia Woolf through her hands — that Woolf used to roll her own cigarettes, and when Nicole started doing that, the body came alive. Did you have a moment like that? In the absence of archival footage, what was your gateway into Pule's interior world? 

As you rightly said, there is no archival footage available. Whatever I had as a visual reference wasn’t even a photograph — it was a painting. It’s the most famous sketch of Phule that you see everywhere: in newspapers, textbooks, and it’s the first one that comes up on Google — the one with the red turban, the Phule pagdi.

In that same painting, if you look closely, he has a little frown line above his nose, which gives him a very stern look. To me, that suggested a very confident man. A visionary — that's how I understood him, merely by looking at those eyes and that frown line. Coincidentally, I naturally have that same frown line between my eyebrows. That was one thing. From there, I started to understand the personality he might have had.

Of course, the script — which was dense with research material — helped me immensely. There were also a lot of anecdotes that weren’t part of the script. For instance, I was told he used to go to akhadas (wrestling arenas). He worked out a lot. He was stout, physically strong. And yet, he never indulged in physical fights. He was a propagator of non-violence because he believed the greatest tool, the most powerful weapon one could have, was education.

Knowing these things, the way I generally approach creating characters — especially in biopics — is by first trying to build the psyche of the person, and then translating that into their physicality. His walk, for example, is a little different from how I usually walk. He was so confident, so hopeful, so positive and driven. That’s how I tried to understand and interpret him.

Pratik Gandhi in a still from 'Phule'

When you're portraying a historical figure like Phule—someone who led monumental social reform and is revered across generations—we often approach them with immense respect, almost to the point of deification. But in doing so, we risk losing sight of their humanity. So how do you, as an actor, navigate that reverence and still find the real, human core of the character?

You are bang on. The crux here is that if I sympathise with the character, then I'm doing a disservice to the storytelling. I’m supposed to empathise with the character — that’s what I do, especially with these kinds of characters, whether it’s Phule or Gandhi.

We’ve almost seen them as gods, or as incarnations of a great soul. In a time when it was unthinkable to bring about change, the kind of reforms they introduced were not easy feats for an ordinary human being. Having said that, even after knowing all these facts, I still don’t want to judge them. I want to explore their mindset—what must have been happening inside their brain and heart when they were making those decisions.

That’s the only space left open for interpretation. Otherwise, if you look at their lives, everything is in the public domain—in the form of books, write-ups, films, audios. So many people have already interpreted every single situation. But what’s still open for interpretation is what was going on internally—emotionally and psychologically—when they were doing those things. And those are the moments I start exploring. Those moments are what make them human, and that’s when the human story truly comes alive.

Was it also something you and Patralekhaa had to consciously build together—to find and establish the marital dynamic between Jyotirao and Savitribai? Because that’s a relationship we actually don’t know much about, historically. What kind of a marriage they had, how they interacted day-to-day—how did you go about discovering and portraying that intimacy and partnership on screen?

That’s very interesting. In fact, the writing helped us create that kind of chemistry—something we’ve never really seen on-screen. At least I had never seen or explored it as an actor. Because when we think of chemistry between a couple, it's usually about physical intimacy or physical comfort. But here, the chemistry took on an entirely different meaning for us.

Can you expand on that?

The chemistry here was about the mutual respect they had in their eyes. They both wanted to grow together. Jyotirao was older than Savitribai. When they got married, they were both in their teens. At that age, if a husband is encouraging his wife to study—at a time when education for women was not encouraged—you have to wonder what must have been happening in their relationship. They were both hungry for growth, and they were both visionaries.

Having said that, we didn’t want any of it to come across as preachy. We’re not giving any gyaan or preaching anything. They’re just supposed to be so comfortable in the same frame, even while talking about these things. We tried to make it all feel normal, natural, and human—while also underlining certain things and letting the audience feel the weight of what it meant to think like that in those times. It’s a very delicate thing to achieve.

Pratik Gandhi and Patralekhaa in a still from 'Phule'

The weight of historical legacy is inherently political. How are you processing the backlash, the protests? What does it mean to be an artist today, when everything—from a joke to a trailer—is met with such violent outrage?

It’s extremely saddening and heartbreaking. First of all, I say this as an artist, because this is not how it’s supposed to be. I’ve seen a time when our country—and our people—weren’t like this. We were far more tolerant, far more open, far more forward-thinking. In the last few years, I’ve seen outrage over the most random things. We’ve reached a point where you can’t even imagine what might offend someone.

Today, you can’t even call red colour red, or the colour blue blue. It’s madness. Once it goes to that level, I guess there's no point in thinking anything before you decide. So as an artist, my gut feel is the only strongest tool I have to decide on a script. If I can connect to the script and the world and the story, then I want to be a part of it.

As far as these kinds of stories are concerned—which is absolutely our own history, which we have studied in school, which nobody can deny—I know that there's no agenda involved, and that gives me even more comfort to be a part of it. My personal choice is that if I feel or come to know that the film has a little agenda involved, or is tilted from one side, then I don't want to be a part of it. Because then it is already coloured too much.

You're saying that you don't let your personal politics seep into the kind of work you choose?

The reason is very simple—I don't want to sympathise with the story and the character. My morals cannot overcome and overpower the story itself. Because that way, there are so many things in my life that I don't personally agree to or subscribe to. But then, in that case, what kind of characters will you do? You will only see Pratik in all the films. I’ll not be able to create characters.

In this kind of political climate, does it spook you as an actor? Because these kinds of controversies have larger consequences for many producers and filmmakers. Fortunately Phule was only delayed by a week...

We lost one of the best dates. The only date that we all were wishing for—you know, 11th of April, which is Phule's birthday. The film would have gone into history. We would have been very, very happy to be a part of that kind of legacy and history, where Phule's birthday is the day we released the film.

But fortunately, your film is still finding a release this week. There are films that are stuck in that censor limbo, for much longer. In that climate, does that make you wary of picking such projects?

To an extent, you're always cautious—you know, initially... I'll tell you my personal experience with Bhavai (2021), my first theatrical release after COVID-19... after Scam released. It was earlier named Raavan-Leela. The moment the name dropped and the trailer dropped, it was a huge backlash.

That was my first ever experience of this kind of backlash, especially on social media—trolling and abusing and random abusing. More than me, my mother and my whole family, they were really scared. When my mother was scared, I said, "Nothing is worth this."

It is very difficult for her. We are not a film family. We are not a business family. She's a retired teacher. When she read and heard about these things happening, she was so scared. I also thought for a moment that—now, if in this kind of a situation, what do you do? What kind of projects should you do?

After a few months, I realised that there's no stopping this. This will go in any direction. These are loose cannons. If I think on these lines, I'll never be able to work. So that actually helped me get rid of the whole fear.

A still from 'Phule'

That's bittersweet. But that's oddly inspiring.

But that's how it is, right? I keep saying in all the interviews when people ask me, "What have you learned in your personal life through this film?" And I say, I have learned a little and I'm still on the journey to learn and imbibe the fearlessness that the Phule couple had. It is very difficult to practice that fearlessness and selflessness in today's world. But there are certain people who could actually do it, and they made the difference to the larger world and the society.

I strongly want to react; I’m also a human being. But if I react—at whose cost? The producer has put in their blood, sweat, money, effort, everything. We made a film. And if, just because I want to vent out and react on certain things... it can put the whole film in jeopardy.

That also pulls you back. Then, of course, your family... they are scared. Someone like my uncles and all, they are all retired teachers in some village in Gujarat. If they hear, read anything in the newspaper—like what happened during Bhavai—there were FIRs and people are reacting this way... if they read these things, they are all scared. They feel, "What are you doing? What have you done wrong? You were better as an engineer. Get back to that job."