Interviewing filmmaker Shreesh Shukla

1. What first inspired you to become a filmmaker, and when did you realize that cinema was your true passion?

My journey into filmmaking began on the streets of India, through nearly 2,000 street-theatre performances across the country. I also worked as an actor in several short films, but somewhere along the way, I realized that acting alone wasn't fulfilling the creative ambition I had inside me.

People often told me, “You're too young. You can't become a leading man at this age.”

Then a school principal who had inspired me gave me a piece of advice that changed the direction of my life: “Why don't you try directing? You could build a name and an identity of your own.”

Through one of his contacts, I got an opportunity to visit a film set as an aspiring assistant director.

I arrived on set, stood there for almost thirty minutes, and watched everything around me. I didn't know anyone. I didn't even understand how a professional film set operated. I was simply trying to figure out where I belonged.

Eventually, an assistant director or associate director came up to me and asked, “Why are you here?”

I said, “I'm here to work as an assistant director.”

He replied, “Then get to work.”

I looked at him and said, “Sir, that's exactly what I'm trying to understand. What should I do? Could you please guide me?”

His response was unforgettable: “You should just leave.”

So, I walked out of that set. But before leaving, I made a promise to myself: I would build something of my own rather than spend my life waiting for someone else to give me a place.

That moment changed my perspective. I stopped looking for permission and started building my own platform, my own identity, and eventually my own production vision.

Today, through Aashirwad Studio Films, I'm working toward telling stories that reflect my imagination and my ambitions as a filmmaker.

Looking back, I sometimes think that my first directing lesson didn't come from a film school or a masterclass. It came from being told to leave a film set.

And perhaps that was the best thing that could have happened to me. Because sometimes, when one door closes in front of you, you stop waiting for someone to open another—and start building your own.

2. How would you describe your personal vision and style as a filmmaker?

For me, filmmaking begins with one question: Does what I imagined actually come alive on the screen?

When I'm on set, I'm not simply watching an actor perform. I'm looking at the monitor, comparing what I'm seeing with the vision in my head. The performance matters, of course, but I want every element of the scene to serve the larger cinematic vision.

And because I'm also an editor, I understand that what you capture on set is only part of the journey. Editing can completely transform the atmosphere of a film. So, if I put ninety percent of my effort into bringing the vision to life on set, I'm ready to put that remaining ten percent into shaping it in the edit room.

But here's where my approach might be a little different.

I don't want audiences to walk out simply thinking, “That was scary,” “That was exciting,” or “That was emotional.” I want them to walk out wondering, “Wait a minute… what is this filmmaker going to do next?”

And if they think I've already blown their minds, I hope the next question is, “If that was the explosion, what on earth is he planning next—a nuclear one?”

I'm smiling, of course. But the ambition behind that joke is real.

I don't want to copy someone else's vision, and I don't want to create something just because it worked before. I want to discover something I haven't even imagined yet.

My ultimate test is simple: when I look at the screen, I want to surprise myself. I want to experience that rare moment when even I, the director, look at what we've created and think, “How did we pull that off?”

Because if I can genuinely surprise myself, then I've created something worth putting in front of an audience. After that, the audience has every right to judge it for themselves.

For me, cinema isn't about reproducing a vision. It's about discovering something beyond it.

3. What stories are you most drawn to telling, and why?

The story I feel most compelled to tell is The Last Tandav.

For me, it begins with Lord Nataraja, whose cosmic dance represents the profound connection between creation, movement, and artistic expression. I see that symbolism as a powerful starting point for exploring something we rarely stop to question: what would the world look like without art?

Think about it. Without art, there would be no cinema as we know it. Without cinema, there would be no film industry as we know it. And without actors, who would stand in front of the camera? Our fathers? I think they might need a little rehearsal first.

But beneath that humour is a serious question I want to explore: What has the film industry given to society, to humanity, and to the world we inhabit? And what responsibility comes with the power to tell stories?

I don't want to make a film simply because mythology offers spectacular visuals or because a grand cinematic spectacle can attract attention. I want to explore the deeper relationship between art, existence, and the people who dedicate their lives to creating it.

My relationship with the film industry is also personal. There have been moments when I felt pushed out, when I had to find my own way forward without relying on influence or privilege. But I kept coming back, determined to build something through my own work.

And perhaps that is why this story matters so much to me. I don't simply want to enter the industry. I want to contribute something meaningful to it.

I want to create a film that challenges my own imagination, respects the power of art, and gives audiences a reason to look at cinema differently.

Because I don't want my journey to be remembered simply as the story of a man who fought to get inside the film industry.

I want it to become the story of a filmmaker who built something worth coming inside for.

4. When you begin developing a new project, what usually comes first: the story, a character, an image, or an idea?

For me, it always begins with a big idea—a question that refuses to leave my mind.

With The Last Tandav, that question revolves around Lord Nataraja and the mystery of a cosmic dance that, in my imagined universe, holds something far greater than a battle between good and evil.

Imagine an immortal demon who cannot be killed. In my story, Lord Nataraja does not destroy him. Instead, He holds the demon beneath His feet and continues to dance. But what happens if that dance ever stops?

In the mythology I am creating for this film, four fundamental elements are connected to that cosmic dance. What are those four elements, and what happens if their balance is disturbed? That is part of the mystery I want the audience to discover through the film.

I don't want to reveal every answer before the audience enters the cinema. I want to give them a question so compelling that they feel the need to discover the answer for themselves.

And there is another question I love asking people: why does CERN, one of the world's leading particle physics research centres, have a statue of Lord Nataraja on its campus?

That connection between an ancient spiritual symbol and the modern scientific exploration of the universe fascinates me. For me, it opens a much bigger conversation about creation, energy, art, and our understanding of existence.

My creative interpretation also connects that cosmic dance to the birth of artistic expression itself. After all, cinema is built on art, movement, performance, and imagination.

So, when I develop a film, I don't necessarily begin with a character or a spectacular image. I begin with an idea that creates more questions than answers.

And when an idea is big enough to surprise even the person creating it, I know I have something worth exploring.

5. How important is it for you to create an emotional connection between your films and the audience?

For me, curiosity and surprise are at the heart of the cinematic experience I want to create.

I want audiences to watch my films and find themselves asking questions they never expected to ask. I want to challenge their assumptions, keep them curious, and give them something they genuinely want to discuss long after the film ends.

Emotional connection can certainly emerge along the way, but it isn't my primary objective. I'm more interested in creating an experience that makes people wonder, question, interpret, and discover something for themselves.

I don't want to explain every detail or dictate what the audience should think. I want to leave room for their imagination, their interpretations, and their conversations.

If people walk out of the cinema debating what they've just seen and wondering what I might create next, then I know I've given them something worth engaging with.

For me, the real power of cinema lies not just in what you show people, but in what you leave their minds exploring after the screen goes dark.

6. What has been the biggest challenge you have faced during your career, and what did it teach you?

One of the biggest challenges in my filmmaking journey has been the cycle of building myself up, falling back to zero, and finding the strength to start again.

I have gone through that cycle at least thirty times. I have reached what felt like a hundred, only to find myself back at zero. And when I reach zero, there is often no one standing beside me. No partner, no friend, nobody to lean on. At those moments, I have to find the motivation within myself to get back up, rebuild, and move forward again.

But I refuse to give up. I refuse to let the fall become the end of my journey. I gather myself, start again, and work my way back up. Of course, every time I reach that point, I hope I won't have to return to zero again. But experience has taught me that I cannot build my future on that hope alone. I have to keep moving forward, whatever comes next.

The biggest lesson I have learned is one I would share with anyone who dreams of entering the film industry: you may be knocked down again and again. You may lose opportunities, support, or the progress you worked so hard to achieve. But never let those setbacks make you give up on yourself.

Don't bow down. Don't stop. Keep moving forward.

And don't just wait for success to arrive. A time will come when you can succeed on a much bigger scale, but you have to create that time through your own actions.

You will have to fight for your dream—for your place, against your circumstances, against competition, and sometimes even against the expectations or resistance of people close to you. The important thing is not to lose yourself in the struggle.

Because the moment you surrender completely, you bring your own journey to an end.

So, keep fighting for what you believe in. Keep rebuilding when everything falls apart. Your circumstances may knock you down, but they do not have to decide where your story ends.

7. How do you work with actors to help them bring their characters to life?

As a director, I have a very clear vision of what I want to see on screen. And with today's technology, visual preparation has reached an entirely different level.

From California to Vietnam, the filmmaking world is becoming increasingly connected through visual development, storyboarding, and lookbooks. I use these possibilities to communicate my vision before we even arrive on set.

My approach is to prepare an AI-assisted storyboard video for every scene. For example, if I have an eight-minute scene, I develop an eight-minute visual storyboard video to help communicate how I envision that scene.

Before the shoot, I share this visual storybook with everyone involved in the scene—not just the lead actors and actresses, but also junior artists. I want everyone to have a clear understanding of what needs to happen, how the scene is envisioned, and how their part fits into the larger picture.

I also believe that an actor needs space to find the character's emotional state. I don't want to exhaust performers with endless verbal instructions. My responsibility is to communicate the vision clearly, prepare the scene visually, and give the actors the freedom to discover their performances within that framework.

So, rather than spending unnecessary energy explaining every visual detail repeatedly on set, I prefer to do that work beforehand. Technology allows me to make my vision more tangible and accessible to the entire cast.

For me, the principle is simple: prepare the vision before the shoot, communicate it visually, and let the actors bring their characters to life within that vision.

8. Is there a particular filmmaker or film that has had a profound influence on your work?

Honestly, I don't have one particular film or filmmaker that I would name as the profound influence on my work.

I've watched films across Indian cinema, Hollywood, and many different genres. But I made a conscious decision not to treat those films as blueprints for my own work. My thinking was simple: if I started studying other people's films with the intention of learning their formulas, I might eventually find myself reproducing what they had already created.

I didn't want to build my cinema around a vision that had already existed. I wanted to pursue the film that was moving through my own heart and mind—the one that belonged to my imagination, rather than a formula or an intellectual property that had already found success.

My ambition is to create something that I haven't seen before, something I may not even be capable of fully imagining at this moment. I want to push beyond the limits of my own thinking. I want to reach a point where the finished film surprises even me, where I can look at the screen and say, “I didn't even know I could imagine something like this.”

That, for me, would be a meaningful achievement as a filmmaker.

So, when you ask me which film or filmmaker has profoundly influenced my work, my honest answer is that I have chosen to pursue my own vision rather than follow someone else's creative blueprint.

And if I ever manage to make a film that goes beyond even what I had imagined, then perhaps I can call myself a reasonably capable director. Not a great one—not yet. Just a director who has managed to create something genuinely his own.

Because my ambition isn't to make a film that reminds people of something they've already seen. It's to make a film that makes them wonder how something like it could have been imagined in the first place.

9. What is the most rewarding moment for you when you are on a film set?

For me, the most rewarding moment on a film set is very simple: when I look at the monitor and see exactly what I had envisioned and felt in my mind.

If what I am seeing on the monitor doesn't match what I imagined, I'm not satisfied. But when the image finally reflects that vision, that's the moment I know we're moving in the right direction.

And for me, that standard applies regardless of how experienced or celebrated an actor might be. Even if I were working with a global superstar like Tom Cruise, I wouldn't hesitate to ask for fourteen, fifteen, or even twenty takes if that were what the scene genuinely required to achieve the intended performance. The objective isn't to demand more takes for the sake of it. It's to get as close as possible to the vision the scene demands.

That's also why I prepare AI-assisted visual storyboards and lookbooks before shooting. I want the actors, junior artists, assistants, and the entire team to understand what I'm trying to create before they step onto the set.

I believe visual communication can make a director's intentions much clearer. Instead of repeatedly explaining the same ideas verbally, I can show the cast what I'm imagining and give them a visual reference to interpret, feel, and perform.

That preparation also helps us use our time and energy more effectively. Rather than spending unnecessary time clarifying the creative vision during the shoot, my assistants and I can focus on executing it through lighting, camera setups, equipment, and the technical details that bring the scene to life.

Ultimately, my satisfaction comes from alignment: the vision in my mind, the performance in front of the camera, and the image on the monitor all coming together.

When what I imagined becomes what I can actually see on screen, that's my reward.

10. How do you balance your original artistic vision with the practical realities of filmmaking?

For me, artistic vision is not something I want to shrink simply because the practical side of filmmaking becomes difficult. My first instinct is to find a way to bring that vision to life.

When I imagine a scene, I don't just see a shot in my head. I see the atmosphere, the performance, the movement, the emotion, and the entire visual experience. I want to look at the monitor and see what I imagined—not a watered-down version of it simply because the original plan was difficult to execute.

That is why I am willing to commit additional time and money when a scene genuinely needs them. If I initially schedule an actor for twenty-four shooting days, but I realise that the film needs thirty-five or even forty days to achieve what I have envisioned, I am prepared to secure those additional dates. For me, the schedule is there to help us make the film; it should not automatically become the reason we abandon what makes the film special.

Much of my journey has required me to rely on my own resources rather than wait for someone else to finance my vision. That has made me very conscious of what it means to put my own money, time, and energy into a project. I am prepared to take that responsibility because I want to create something that genuinely reflects what I see in my mind.

The same principle applies to working with actors. If I cannot communicate a particular performance through words, I will demonstrate it myself. I will step into the scene, perform the moment, and show the actor exactly what I am looking for. Sometimes, I need the actor to follow that reference closely because the performance has a specific purpose within the scene. I would rather make my vision clear than leave the performer guessing.

This is also why I create detailed visual storyboards and lookbooks before shooting. I want my cast and crew to see the world I am trying to create before they arrive on set. When everyone understands the visual intention, we can spend more of our time and energy bringing it to life through performance, lighting, camera work, equipment, and execution.

Of course, time and money are real constraints, and additional resources must be planned for. But I do not believe that the first response to a difficult creative challenge should automatically be to reduce the ambition. I believe in understanding what the vision requires and then taking responsibility for the effort, resources, and decisions needed to pursue it.

For me, the real compromise would be looking at the monitor, knowing that I could have done more to realise my vision, and accepting less simply because it was easier. I want to finish a film knowing that I gave the imagination behind it a genuine chance to exist on screen.

11. Has your approach to cinema changed as you have gained more experience?

Yes, my approach to cinema has evolved, particularly in the way I think about storytelling, performance, and pre-production.

When I look at mainstream Indian cinema, I see filmmakers such as David Dhawan and Rohit Shetty who have developed distinctive ways of presenting performers and creating memorable cinematic experiences. But my own ambition has taken me in a different direction.

I don't want to make films simply to build a particular actor or actress into a star. I want to make films in which the story itself becomes the hero—and, in its own way, the heroine.

For me, a character doesn't become extraordinary simply because the camera treats them like a star. A powerful story can make an ordinary person feel extraordinary. The audience should discover the heroism in the character through the life they live, the choices they make, and the world the story creates.

That belief has also shaped how I think about pre-production. For me, pre-production is not complete simply because the script is written, the storyboards are prepared, and the lookbook is ready. Those are essential tools, but they are only part of the process.

I want to think about the film as a complete proposition before production begins: its creative identity, its visual world, its execution, and its commercial potential. My ambition is to prepare a film so thoroughly that its value can be understood even before it reaches the screen.

For example, if a film has a production budget of five crore rupees, I want to develop its creative and commercial proposition with the ambition of making it attractive enough to command a value of ten crore rupees. That is a target to work towards, not a guarantee of what the market will pay.

And if I had to describe how I have changed as a filmmaker, I would put it this way: I may have been naïve once, but today I am even more intensely obsessed with my vision. I question myself, I push my imagination further, and I refuse to believe that the first version of an idea is necessarily its best version.

I don't want to make a film that exists to make its star look bigger. I want to make a film whose story is so powerful that the star becomes part of its world—and the story remains the real hero.

12. If you could have been present on the set of any film in cinema history, which one would you choose and why?

If I could visit the set of any film in cinema history, I would choose The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

Not to learn how to make another Lord of the Rings, but to witness how an imaginary world can become so convincing that people from completely different cultures feel they belong to it.

I would be looking beyond the spectacle. I would want to understand how every detail—from the landscape and production design to the smallest visual choice—works together to make an entire universe feel alive.

That is the challenge I want to take on with THE LAST TANDAV: to build a cinematic universe rooted in Indian mythology, yet capable of crossing borders without losing its soul.

I wouldn't go there to borrow Middle-earth. I would go there to challenge myself to create a world that could only come from India, yet speak to the world.

13. What would you say to young filmmakers who are trying to find their own voice in the industry?

My advice to young filmmakers would be simple: don't spend your life trying to become the next version of someone else. Build the courage to become the first version of yourself.

Study cinema. Learn the craft. Understand production, budgets, technology, and the business behind filmmaking. But don't let another filmmaker's success become the blueprint for your own imagination.

In my journey, I have learned that waiting for someone to give you permission to create is not a strategy. Sometimes, when a door doesn't open, you have to find the courage to build your own.

But I would also say this: don't confuse being stubborn with being prepared. A powerful vision needs discipline. You have to develop your story, question your own ideas, prepare thoroughly, and find practical ways to bring what you imagine onto the screen.

You will face rejection. You may lose everything you thought you had built. You may have to begin again when nobody is standing beside you. Keep learning, keep improving, and be willing to challenge your own work before you expect the world to believe in it.

For me, filmmaking is not just about finding a place in the industry. It is about contributing something meaningful that could not have come from anyone else.

Don't chase the industry just to belong to it. Develop something worth bringing to it.

14. Finally, what is the dream project you would still love to make, and what would it mean to you to bring that story to the screen?

My dream project is THE LAST TANDAV.

I don't see it as just one film. I see the possibility of building an original cinematic universe rooted in Indian mythology, with its own visual language, philosophical questions, and narrative identity.

At the heart of the project is an idea that challenges my imagination: what happens when a cosmic dance that has held a world in balance can no longer continue? I want to develop that question into a cinematic experience that feels deeply rooted in India, yet invites audiences from different countries and cultures into its world.

For me, bringing THE LAST TANDAV to the screen would mean much more than completing a film. It would mean turning a vision I have carried into something tangible—something audiences can experience, question, interpret, and discover for themselves.

My ambition is to build a universe that can grow beyond a single story. But I also understand that a universe cannot earn its audience through ambition alone. It must begin with one compelling film, with characters people believe in, a story that holds their attention, and a cinematic world that gives them a reason to return.

I want to create something unmistakably Indian in its soul, but not limited by geography in its imagination.

I don't just want to make a film that reaches the world. I want to create a world of my own—and invite the world into it.