Retirement isn't in my future. Retirement I don't think about. I think that one should just continue till one drops dead
THE MYSTIC PRODUCER
When I first phoned up Bombay-born Ismail Merchant, 64, he was in Paris producing the latest film of his reputed lover James Ivory. Le Divorce, which is based on Diane Johnson's acclaimed novel, stars Anouk Aimée, Isabelle Hupert, and Colin Firth. You know, the Merchant from Merchant Ivory. James Ivory. The folks who gave us Remains of the Day, Howards End, Maurice, and Room with A View.
Well, Mr. Merchant every once in a while writes a cookbook (Ismail Merchant's Passionate Meals : The New Indian Cuisine for Fearless Cooks and Adventurous Eaters) and also directs. Sometimes to hurrahs as with his sensational In Custody, a comic exploration of the life of a famous Urdu poet who's about to spout his final ode. And sometimes less successfully, as with The Proprietor in which Jeanne Moreau is haunted by the ghost of her dressmaking mom who was killed by the Nazis.
In his current release, The Mystic Masseur, which is based upon a novel by last year's Pulitzer Prize-winning author V.S. Naipaul, he explores the life of an impoverished Indian living in Trinidad. The ever ambitious Ganesh (Aasif Mandvi) begins as a failed school teacher, finds success as a masseur and self-published author, and then starts raking in the cash as a healer, politician, and taxi-fleet owner before society swats him down a bit.
Reputation-wise, nobody swats down Merchant. So to stay in the producer/director's good graces, I thought I better include one question about his current film on our transatlantic phone call. "Why adapt this book?" I asked with great interest in my voice.
"It was Naipaul's most emotionally accessible novel," Merchant replied. "His later books became more cynical. Much of his writing—— A House for Mr. Biswas, this one, A Flag on the Island, and Miguel Street——are set in Trinidad. This one though is so much more enchanting, revealing, and full of life."
He's right actually. The Mystic Masseur is a great read as is Naipaul's Half a Life. But let's get to the homo stuff.
Merchant is a man with many identities——Indian, Muslim, gay, American, and probably British. Is he ever driven crazy by all these distinct and at times conflicting identities? Does he ever wonder who he really is?
"I never do," Merchant insisted. "I have had many relationships including ones with women. And I've had many relationships in different countries. As a person who's lived forty years in different places, you always do. I still maintain those friendships all over, and I still enjoy those friendships.
"Some people," he continued, "when emotionally disturbed or when something happens in their lives, they sort of feel, 'My God, what is my identity? Where am I?' I don't think like that. If I come to London, I have these friends with whom I'm passionately involved. In my little America, the same thing. In India, the same. Or in Paris. I never sort of think that I'm ever in a period of finding one's identity.
Women, huh!!! "Any children?" I joke. "Any children that you know about?"
"I have children," Merchant responded.
"You do have children!!! How many?"
"I can't tell you," he laughed.
Taken aback and in an unfocused state, I asked one last question before Merchant had to get back to work: "You once said of yourself and James Ivory, "We are the ones who started what independent cinema is all about. We are an independent company. I feel that if a book is written about cinema, Merchant Ivory will have its own chapter." It seems that chapter will continue to be enlarged. There seems to still be lots more to come from you two. Do you feel that? Or do you ever think you're going to retire?"
"No, retirement isn't in my future. Retirement I don't think about. I think that one should just continue till one drops dead," he laughed then hung up.
Thankfully, Merchant came to New York City to promote his film a few weeks ago, and I was able to follow up on whether the most famous gay couple in celluloid history was still a couple.
In a Central Park West hotel room, I asked of Merchant: "I don't know if you want to go into this but are you and Mr. Ivory just friends now?"
"We've been friends for a long time," he insisted. "We're not lovers in that sense that you talk about lovers. We've been friends for a long time. We're good friends, yes."
"So like any marriage, after a few decades you've become friends?"
"Marriage! What is marriage? When you have a romantic relationship, that is marriage. But we've not had that. We've always been friends. For a long time. From the beginning."
From the beginning?
"People always want to say, 'you are this or you are that.' I don't want to sort of be put in a box," Merchant continued. "I don't want to be put in a particular category. Because you know everything there is in life. Whatever comes in your way as a partner, marriage, divorce, all of that, you just go to it. And I feel sometimes that it's wonderful to just have a kind of mysterious approach to things as opposed to sort of saying, 'Oh, yeah, this is it!' so the mystery is lost. I think that one should keep the mystery and let people sort of have their own interpretation of things."
Does Mr. Merchant's 'mystery' mean he's available for dates to the readers of this publication?
"Available?" Merchant chuckled. "I'm man of all seasons. Say that."
When I first phoned up Bombay-born Ismail Merchant, 64, he was in Paris producing the latest film of his reputed lover James Ivory. Le Divorce, which is based on Diane Johnson's acclaimed novel, stars Anouk Aimée, Isabelle Hupert, and Colin Firth. You know, the Merchant from Merchant Ivory. James Ivory. The folks who gave us Remains of the Day, Howards End, Maurice, and Room with A View.
Well, Mr. Merchant every once in a while writes a cookbook (Ismail Merchant's Passionate Meals : The New Indian Cuisine for Fearless Cooks and Adventurous Eaters) and also directs. Sometimes to hurrahs as with his sensational In Custody, a comic exploration of the life of a famous Urdu poet who's about to spout his final ode. And sometimes less successfully, as with The Proprietor in which Jeanne Moreau is haunted by the ghost of her dressmaking mom who was killed by the Nazis.
In his current release, The Mystic Masseur, which is based upon a novel by last year's Pulitzer Prize-winning author V.S. Naipaul, he explores the life of an impoverished Indian living in Trinidad. The ever ambitious Ganesh (Aasif Mandvi) begins as a failed school teacher, finds success as a masseur and self-published author, and then starts raking in the cash as a healer, politician, and taxi-fleet owner before society swats him down a bit.
Reputation-wise, nobody swats down Merchant. So to stay in the producer/director's good graces, I thought I better include one question about his current film on our transatlantic phone call. "Why adapt this book?" I asked with great interest in my voice.
"It was Naipaul's most emotionally accessible novel," Merchant replied. "His later books became more cynical. Much of his writing—— A House for Mr. Biswas, this one, A Flag on the Island, and Miguel Street——are set in Trinidad. This one though is so much more enchanting, revealing, and full of life."
He's right actually. The Mystic Masseur is a great read as is Naipaul's Half a Life. But let's get to the homo stuff.
Merchant is a man with many identities——Indian, Muslim, gay, American, and probably British. Is he ever driven crazy by all these distinct and at times conflicting identities? Does he ever wonder who he really is?
"I never do," Merchant insisted. "I have had many relationships including ones with women. And I've had many relationships in different countries. As a person who's lived forty years in different places, you always do. I still maintain those friendships all over, and I still enjoy those friendships.
"Some people," he continued, "when emotionally disturbed or when something happens in their lives, they sort of feel, 'My God, what is my identity? Where am I?' I don't think like that. If I come to London, I have these friends with whom I'm passionately involved. In my little America, the same thing. In India, the same. Or in Paris. I never sort of think that I'm ever in a period of finding one's identity.
Women, huh!!! "Any children?" I joke. "Any children that you know about?"
"I have children," Merchant responded.
"You do have children!!! How many?"
"I can't tell you," he laughed.
Taken aback and in an unfocused state, I asked one last question before Merchant had to get back to work: "You once said of yourself and James Ivory, "We are the ones who started what independent cinema is all about. We are an independent company. I feel that if a book is written about cinema, Merchant Ivory will have its own chapter." It seems that chapter will continue to be enlarged. There seems to still be lots more to come from you two. Do you feel that? Or do you ever think you're going to retire?"
"No, retirement isn't in my future. Retirement I don't think about. I think that one should just continue till one drops dead," he laughed then hung up.
Thankfully, Merchant came to New York City to promote his film a few weeks ago, and I was able to follow up on whether the most famous gay couple in celluloid history was still a couple.
In a Central Park West hotel room, I asked of Merchant: "I don't know if you want to go into this but are you and Mr. Ivory just friends now?"
"We've been friends for a long time," he insisted. "We're not lovers in that sense that you talk about lovers. We've been friends for a long time. We're good friends, yes."
"So like any marriage, after a few decades you've become friends?"
"Marriage! What is marriage? When you have a romantic relationship, that is marriage. But we've not had that. We've always been friends. For a long time. From the beginning."
From the beginning?
"People always want to say, 'you are this or you are that.' I don't want to sort of be put in a box," Merchant continued. "I don't want to be put in a particular category. Because you know everything there is in life. Whatever comes in your way as a partner, marriage, divorce, all of that, you just go to it. And I feel sometimes that it's wonderful to just have a kind of mysterious approach to things as opposed to sort of saying, 'Oh, yeah, this is it!' so the mystery is lost. I think that one should keep the mystery and let people sort of have their own interpretation of things."
Does Mr. Merchant's 'mystery' mean he's available for dates to the readers of this publication?
"Available?" Merchant chuckled. "I'm man of all seasons. Say that."
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