Less than three years into his career, Babil Khan is delightfully untrained in the media. Not yet. The 26-year-old speaks in quick associative snatches interspersed with serene philosophical reflections. He is a delightful interviewee, prone to ramblings and digressions, much like his late father Irrfan. He informs me that he has just lately begun watching Peaky Blinders and is currently reading a book called The Tao of mechanics, which explores the relationship between “human spirituality and the physics of materialism.” At one point, he swears, “I will not talk about video games.” Ten minutes later, we are talking about Red Dead Redemption 2’s grandeur and beauty.
Babil’s latest film, Logout, is a digital-age thriller written by Biswapati Sarkar. Babil plays a shut-in, fame-hungry influencer who gets caught in a nightmarish ploy. “The film examines what makes us sacrifice our authentic selves for external validation,” he says. In an interview with The Hindu, Babil spoke about the influence of technology in his life, auditioning for roles, and his favourite scenes from Irrfan’s films…
You have over 1 million followers on Instagram. Like your character in ‘Logout’, do you identify as a digital native?
Not at all. When my younger brother (Ayaan) and I were growing up, our parents took a conscious decision to keep us away from the technological development surrounding us. I got my first smart phone when I was 21. I practically grew up in a jungle (laughs). Even now, my screentime on social media is almost negligible (8 minutes, reads his Instagram stat). We always judge social media as something either good or bad when it is really about finding a balance. Our generation is facing a numbness because of the burden of information and our desire to be wanted, our desire to be loved. In a capitalistic world, it’s all business and you have to sell. That’s what this film looks into.
You debuted in Anvita Dutt’s ‘Qala’ in 2022. We also saw you in ‘Friday Night Plan’ and ‘Railway Men’. What is your own assessment of you career so far?
I honestly haven’t worked enough to feel confident to judge my own work. Like, I can’t even look at myself so early on. I am too scared to watch my own films. I remember after finishing Logout, I sent a message to Amit sir (director) that I could have done much better. I told him I’m sorry. He responded by calling me mad and saying I should just see the film, but I couldn’t. Perhaps in five more years, I will have an opinion on my work. At present I am trying to be as honest as I can with each performance. It’s like a video game — you have to keep leveling up each day.
Whom do you seek advice from in times of doubt and confusion?
In addition to my mother, Sutapa Sikdar, who is always there, I have just one individual I turn to, my acting coach Rachit Singh. He is a phenomenal actor himself. He taught me everything I know about my craft. He also showed me how to meditate and follow my gut. Currently, I don’t have the luxury of picking or setting up projects. I have to go for auditions. I recently gave an audition for Kiran Rao. It was so much fun. I told Kiran ma’am I love giving auditions, and it’s a great practice, irrespective of success or failure.
What was your cinema diet growing up?
Very unusual. Like all kids, I wanted to watch Krrish and Dhoom but my father showed me Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker when I was 8. I of course didn’t understand anything and slept through much of the film. That said, when I went for my film course at the University of Westminster in London and wrote my thesis, there were primal memories and impressions of watching Stalker that resurfaced. It’s quite strange what our subconscious absorbs and retains. In my teens, I fell in love with Iranian and Turkish cinema. There’s a Kurdish war drama featuring children, Turtles Can Fly, that touched me a lot. It teaches you the importance of sitting with silence.
What scenes from your father’s filmography do you revisit the most?
I can not help but think of the scene in The Namesake (2006) where he gets the call that Tabu’s father has died. Nothing is said, not even a syllable. All he does is listen. You can learn more about acting from just one scene than from any acting class. His brief appearance in The Darjeeling Limited (2007) is another example of a comedy amid a terrible circumstance. I adore that. I frequently rewatch Madaari (2016), which is my favorite of his films, and Pan Singh Tomar (2012). My group and I also frequently recite lines from Haasil (2003). He gets strapped to a chair in a fantastic sequence in that movie. I admire it too much to try to imitate it.
Your dad passed away five years ago. Do you feel the industry is beginning to see you as an individual, beyond your father’s shadow?
Personally, I do not consider it a shadow, however I am not sure about the industry. It is a cold day with a lovely ray of brightness. My father left behind more than simply his acting career. I am attempting to be the best version of myself rather than trying to walk in his footsteps. I aspire to be as kind as he was and produce a collection of work that briefly awakens others. That is all.
