'Love stories have been my drug', says Ali Fazal as he opens up on films and how acting chose him

Ali Fazal is not your average actor. He doesn’t fit into neat boxes or obedient archetypes. He drifts — fluid and fearless — between genres, geographies, and gazes. From the corridors of Victoria & Abdul to the chaos of Mirzapur, from Shakespearean noir with Vishal Bhardwaj to Hollywood blockbusters, he carries in him a quiet rebellion and a kind of bruised romanticism. The kind that doesn’t scream for attention but lingers — like a soft aftertaste of poetry whispered through broken glass. He is the kind of actor who makes you believe that roles find him — not the other way around. That somewhere in the script’s silence, he’s already begun to play.

Ali Fazal is in the mood for love and magic

So at the start of what turns out to be a heartfelt conversation, we ask him about Metro In Dino, a film that feels like a delicate detour and a deeper dive. And he, as always, answers like a man building a cathedral out of instinct and jazz. “I mean, well — Anurag Basu, to begin with. Love stories have been like my drug, if I can call it that. I get attracted to them like bees get to a flower, whenever I hear a nice or nicely written love story.” There’s this boyish reverence when he talks about love. You can hear the hum of violins in the background. “So I suppose that was one of the key reasons,” Ali continues. “I didn’t ask Basu so much; we didn’t dive deep into it. We wanted to keep the slate clean for when I start this cinematic relationship with Fatima (Sana Shaikh), and discover everything about our characters during our scenes. I think that really worked. For me, it was the first time I was entering a world like this. I’ve never prepared like this. I’ve never worked like this. And it was one of the most fruitful journeys, I think, I’ve ever had.”

And just like that, the weight of it lands — this wasn’t just another role. This was a moment in time that reshaped the contours of his craft. But what about the takeaway, we ask — the lesson every film quietly drops into your lap when the lights go off ? He pauses. A smile. A moment of admission. “Now, wow, that’s a good question. I don’t know yet. I suppose the best lesson is that — as actors, we anticipate a lot, you know? And in anticipation of scenes, we end up choreographing scenes and entering them with certain emotions already decided.” He shifts in his seat, unpeeling the nuance, and continues, “And what I learned was — because I did not have context here — sometimes, you know, you don’t need that. What you need is an idea, an intention, and the rest just falls in place when you have everything else measured up for you. You know, 500 people working very hard around the frame to bring that train into life. And another co-actor, who’s wonderful. So that magic, really, I kind of somewhat tasted. I still don’t think I’ve been fully juiced out by Basu. It’s the middle part. Picture abhi baki hai.”

An organic process indeed. Like something slow-cooked under starlight. Then we ask the money question — the real-life dilemma. Big paycheck with no soul, or small change with big wings? And Ali doesn’t dodge it. “The answer to these situations depends on what stage in your life you are at, you know? Yeah, I’ve done projects for money, and told myself that I will do it with so much conviction that the commercialism part will get balanced. But at the end, at the back of it, I knew that I had to work two households, you know, sometimes three households. So... yeah, it’s subjective.”

But beyond the love stories that attract him, Ali tells us that when he is offered a film, a role, what essentially draws him in is, “The space for me to dive deep into a character that is probably not fully author-like. I respect writers who do that. The great writers leave these very cinematic gaps in character building. And those gaps — you can’t really pinpoint, but when you read a good script, you’ll know that this guy has thought of me. You know, whoever I am at that moment. That actor who comes in and says, ‘You know what, I’m gonna land you the same emotion, but I’m gonna take a little detour here and come back.’ It’s like jazz — you get to break the rules, but you’re still within the bar, within the music. And therefore, it’s always new, and yet it’s — you know... weight, yeah.”

That’s it. That’s the heartbeat of it all. Jazz in the bones. So we ask — where did it begin? Was acting always the plan? Ali laughs, “I’ve got the most beautiful, most cliché answer for you. So — I didn’t choose acting. Acting chose me.” And like a storybook twist, he begins: “It (acting) chased me. I probably had the best setup for not doing acting. I had the setup for engineering. I had the setup for medicine. I was into sports to a level where I could have gone to nationals. I did, you know, at some point. But yeah, I think acting really dug me out.”

As the story unfolds, we grow curious about this twist of fate. “I was a basketball player. I played a lot of basketball in school, athletics and hockey. I kid you not, I had serious dreams of representing my country. Two of my friends — my immediate seniors — were actually playing for India at the time in basketball. A couple of people in athletics were also kind of rising up the ranks at state levels. I played — I think I was selected for state at the time. And then in some stupid house match, I broke my arm. It just popped out. And again and again. Finally, I had a whole surgery...”

He stops. There’s a hush. “I didn’t like talking about it for the longest time. But you know, those events decide your fate. It’s not what happens, it’s what opens.” And it opened a door to stories. “Later I realised, I find the same discipline that I find in sport, in cinema. I find it in my acting, my craft,” he says.

In a way, Ali is still representing the country, we mention. From Victoria & Abdul to Mirzapur to Kandahar and Death on the Nile — he’s carrying us quietly, powerfully, across borders. “All the films that I do, anything that crosses the border and is witnessed by people, I feel like, chalo kahin toh maine contribute kiya apne desh ke liye; I feel proud. In fact, the last time we went to the Sundance Film Festival with our film Girls Will Be Girls, there’s this beautiful corridor in the middle of the street, and there were all the flags! It was the proudest moment… Richa and I took a selfie there. And we won the competition. It was memorable!”

So we now ask — among them all, which is that one film or project that has refused to leave him, and why? Ali says, “There are two. There’s Victoria & Abdul — because sincerely, it was my big moment. I learned a lot, and it was the beginning of a journey for me. It’ll stay with me forever. The second is, weirdly, I’d say Khufiya, because woh ek Vishal Bharadwaj ji ki film thi jo maine ki thi (because that’s one film I did with Vishal Bharadwaj). Usmein kuch aisi cheezhen thi jo mere saath hamesha raheingi. Woh character jis tarah mere dimaag mein buna tha maine, woh shayad mere saath hamesha rahega. (There are some things in the film that will forever stay with me — the way I created the character in my head).”

And beyond the screen, the lights, the takes — what does Ali Fazal dream of? He sighs, like a poet afraid of sounding too holy. “I mean, this is a way of life for me. Acting is not work for me. It’s when I’m waiting for my scene in the van — that is what I charge money for,” he laughs.

However, like the thinking man he is, he quickly reflects upon the times we are living in, “I have a lot of dreams. It’s scary sometimes, because I want to be able to connect with so many people on so many things. I think stories have shaped society’s history; if I can only use my stories eventually to bring them out to the world or reach out to as many people in whatever way and form.” Then he catches himself, before continuing, “...I don’t want to go there. That’s suddenly sounding like a wannabe Messiah who wants to save people’s lives, because, you know, the rest of the world is bombing the shit out of people, and I don’t think there’s any respect left for humanity. So I think if we can find in us to be able to rekindle that for even a couple of million people, I think I would take that life.”

We are glad Ali has mentioned a reality which many people even hesitate to acknowledge. “As artistes, I think that’s the one thing that we have to carry the flag of — compassion. I mean, people might not mention it, and I get it because, yeah, there are reasons, but I like to believe that we all still see it (the reality around).”

As our conversation draws to a close and you strip Ali away off all the roles, the accolades, the noise, the part he likes to protect the most is of being a “Mama’s boy.” He says, “I am such a sucker for all my mother’s stories. I don’t have her anymore. But it’s still a journey of discovering her for the rest of my life. And now seeing my wife become one, me becoming a father... those are the parts I like to protect.”

Parenthood, he says, has cracked something open in him. “It has to. Because it’s a brand new blueprint that’s just suddenly come into your universe, and is blooming.”

We wrap up the conversation knowing we will get to see Ali Fazal in some amazing projects soon. “There are a bunch of films. I have done Lahore 1947 with Aamir (Khan) sir’s production. There’s a film called Papita that we are developing. There’s also an untitled series for Amazon Prime with director Prosit Roy, that I have been working on. It’s actually the first long format show that I’m doing. So, yes, quite a lot of projects I am looking forward to.”

And so are we.

Metro…In Dino is in theatres.

Email: rupam@newindianexpress.com

X: @rupsjain

For more updates, join/follow our WhatsApp, Telegram and YouTube channels.