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Ram Kamal Mukherjee on 'Binodiini - Ekti Natir Upakhyan' and How the 19th-Century Bengali Actress Finally Got the Honour She Deserved
The journalist-turned-filmmaker talks about how he mounted the Bengali drama starring Rukmini Maitra, which is now running in cinemas.
To Ram Kamal Mukherjee, the making of Binodiini – Ekti Natir Upakhyan was not merely a creative pursuit; it was a mission to resurrect the legacy of Binodini Dasi.
When filmmaker Mukherjee turned his attention to the extraordinary life of the 19th-century Bengali actress who revolutionised the stage, he was determined to tell her story, pay homage to an icon who had long been forgotten in Indian cinema, and also revive a genre that Bengali cinema had long abandoned. Period dramas, once a vibrant part of Bengal’s cultural identity, had faded over time, replaced by what he calls “drawing-room films.”
“It used to bother me,” Mukherjee admits. “Bengal once inspired the golden era of Indian cinema. From Bimal Roy to R.D. Burman, to Satyajit Ray, they all had an unmatched cultural impact. But somewhere, that magic was lost.”
Reviving this lost genre was far from easy. Mukherjee spent five years meticulously planning his vision. The challenges were immense, especially when it came to convincing producers to back a female-led period drama. The COVID-19 pandemic added another layer of uncertainty. Many producers withdrew, doubting the film’s financial viability. Yet, Mukherjee and his lead actor, Rukmini Maitra, remained undeterred.
In an exclusive conversation with The Hollywood Reporter India, Mukherjee shares his journey and explains how Binodiini is not just a film, but a movement.
Edited excerpts:
You started off as a journalist — what inspired the change from journalism to filmmaking?
Even when I was a journalist, I was writing features and conducting interviews. The first step in transitioning from journalism to filmmaking was writing a book. When I interviewed actors and other people; their stories intrigued me, leading to books. I wrote biographies on Hema Malini, Mithun Chakraborty and Sanjay Dutt, along with short stories and poetry.
That was the foundation — learning how to tell stories. Storytelling is crucial to becoming a director.
Step two was joining Pritish Nandy Communication. I left journalism and joined their team to understand cinema production. I worked on 11 films on the production side, learning how production works before jumping into direction. This helped me grasp the mechanism of cinema, marketing, and the peripheral aspects.
What specifically drew you to Binodini Dasi’s story?
Binodini’s story was particularly compelling because of her resilience and groundbreaking contributions. Born in 1862, she began acting at the age of seven, retiring at 26. At a time when women weren’t allowed on stage, she replaced a boy actor and eventually became one of India’s first method actors —but we only talk about Tom Hanks or Meryl Streep or Aamir Khan!
She was the daughter of a sex worker, raised in the red-light district and she made a name for herself in a time where women were not even allowed to work. Her transformation — from playing Sita to later portraying Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, a male saint — is remarkable. She immersed herself fully in her roles, adopting strict diets, sleeping on the floor, and even cutting her hair to look the part.
Her story is inspiring because it breaks barriers, even by today’s standards. Can you imagine casting someone like Sunny Leone in a spiritual role today? It will still raise many eyebrows, but Binodini did this in 1880s. Her dedication to her craft and her journey makes her story worth telling.
A period drama is logistically harder to execute. With your prolific career as a biographer, was the research process similar to what you do for a book? Or when you're making a film, is it different?
No, when I make a film, the only difference is I have a larger team. When I'm doing a book, it’s a personal equation. For instance, Hema ji or Mithun da wouldn't have been comfortable if I'd brought along a big team to discuss personal matters. Writing a book is more intimate — it's about doing research myself, cross-checking facts, and then getting everything approved.
For a film, however, it’s different. The primary researcher is me, of course, but I have a team to help because there are deadlines, and the producer has invested in the project. Unlike a book, which can take its time because it’s a single person’s endeavour, a film involves multiple departments.
For Binodiini, the research was far more extensive than for any of the biographies I’ve written. It’s a genre I’ve never tackled before — a magnum opus. So, I had to figure out everything: what fabrics they used, how they lit spaces without electricity. For that, I hired the best professionals. For instance, my cinematographer, who worked with Rituparno Ghosh, was Soumik Haldar. For music, I brought on Sourendra and Soumyojit, a duo who are not just composers but also musical researchers.
I took inspiration from Satyajit Ray and Gulzar. For Pather Panchali (1955), Ray collaborated with Pandit Ravi Shankar, and Gulzar did the same with Meera (1979). It’s about finding unconventional talents to create something unique. That understanding of cinema helped me decide on the kind of music and collaborators I needed for this film.
Your lead actress, Rukmini Maitra, is an interesting casting choice as she’s primarily known for her contemporary roles. What made her the right fit for this film?
Rukmini already had the confidence and elegance needed for the second half of the role, so I knew she could embody that. But I had to work on the raw, village part of the character with her.
What struck me about Rukmini was her depth. She isn’t just a “regular” actress concerned with looks or Instagram posts. She reads poetry — Gulzar, Rumi, Keats — and discusses literature, fashion, and cinema with equal passion. That intellectual curiosity told me she could understand Binodini’s psychology and mannerisms.
When I asked if she could dance, she admitted she was a contemporary dancer, not trained in Kathak. But she didn’t hesitate. She immediately started training with a classical dance instructor, even though we didn’t yet have the choreography or music finalised. Step by step, she built my faith in her.
Getting Dev Adhikari on board as a producer must have been crucial. He’s known for commercial potboilers, so how did you convince him to back a period drama?
Dev was actually the last person to join the project. Initially, Prateek Chakravorty of Bombay’s Promod Films supported me. When I pitched Binodiini, I had a storyboard ready, complete with Chaitanya’s look, the Kathak sequences, and more. Prateek was convinced when he saw my vision and agreed to fund it.
Dev came in later because we needed local infrastructure in Kolkata to execute the production smoothly. His production house helped ensure that everything — from locations to local talent — was handled efficiently. While Pratik provided financial backing, Dev offered structural support to release and market the film effectively.
Theatrical releases have been struggling, especially for niche art-house films. You also mentioned that people were suggesting this should go directly to OTT. Why was it important for you to bring this story to the big screen?
There’s a magic to theatrical releases that OTT can’t replicate. To entice audiences back to theaters, you need to create something visually extraordinary. Binodiini is not an “apartment genre” film — those can be consumed at home. This is a film designed for the big screen, with its grandeur and immersive storytelling.
Of course, releasing a film theatrically is expensive — P&A (print and advertising) costs can double your budget. That’s where Dev and Prateek’s contributions were invaluable.
You have said that this film created history...could you share the story of Star Theatre?
What happened is that all these people had promised Binodini that they would name the theater after her. Binodini never wanted to become a prostitute, but there was a situation where she had to succumb to pressure. She had to sleep with a businessman who promised her ₹ 50,000 — an enormous amount in those days — and assured her he would build a theater in her name.
Binodini gave in, believing she would finally have a theater named after her. But when the time came for the registration, after she returned from the temple thinking everything was finalised, all the men decided otherwise.
They argued that if the theater was named after her, people would associate it with the red-light district because she came from that background. They believed no gentlemen or families would step into a theater named after the daughter of a prostitute. So, instead, they tricked her. They said, “You’re a star, so let’s name it ‘Star Theater.’”
This was a betrayal. She had agreed to compromise her principles and sacrifice herself, so that she could escape the life of a sex worker, something that her mother and grandmother had endured. Binodini aspired to be an actor, not a prostitute. Yet, male society at the time justified exploiting her background, pressuring her to make compromises for their benefit.
This betrayal became part of history, and the Star Theater grew into a significant cultural landmark. While working on the movie, Rukmini and I often discussed how monumental this building had become. People laughed at us when we said the name should be changed to honour Binodini, saying it was impossible. But we persisted. For over four and a half years, we studied historical documents, tracked down papers, and worked to understand the process. Finally, I asked Rukmini, “Can we at least approach the authorities? Maybe we can reach out to the Chief Minister and see if anything can be done.”
As we were wrapping up post-production on the film, the Chief Minister made an official announcement. After due diligence, she said, “It’s been a long-standing demand. We’ve decided to rename Star Theater after Binodini Dasi.”
It was incredible — 140 years later, justice was served. It proved that a film could spark a movement. The premiere of the movie was held at Star Theater, which had now been renamed Binodini Theater. Watching the biopic in the very place she had dreamed of, left everyone in tears. Binodini finally got the honour she deserved, and her story came full circle.