Ranjan Ghosh's film Adamya is gearing up for an extensive festival journey, with screenings lined up across major international and Indian platforms over May. The film will have its European premiere on May 4 at the UK Asian Film Festival. Following this, Adamya will be showcased on May 21 as part of the Cinemas of India FIPRESCI-India Film Festival, with screenings scheduled across Calcutta, Delhi, Bangalore, and Pune.
Continuing its festival run, the film will be screened at the Habitat Film Festival in New Delhi on May 24. The journey will culminate with its US premiere on May 30 at the New York Indian Film Festival. With a strong presence across prestigious festivals, Adamya is set to reach diverse audiences through its global festival run. A t2 chat with filmmaker Ranjan Ghosh...
Adamya is travelling across multiple festivals — how important is the festival circuit for a film like this?
For a film like Adamya, the festival circuit is not an afterlife — it is an extension of its first breath — the theatrical run. This is not a film designed for immediate consumption. It asks for patience, for attention, for a certain willingness to sit with discomfort. Festivals create that space. They slow down the act of viewing. They allow a film to be encountered, not just watched. Also, festivals give the film a kind of geographical freedom. It is no longer confined to the context in which it was made. It begins to travel, and in that travel, it begins to transform.
What does it mean to you to premiere at the UK Asian Film Festival?
The European premiere at the UK Asian Film Festival is deeply meaningful, not just because of its legacy as the longest-running South Asian film festival, but because of what it represents — a bridge between histories, diasporas, and evolving identities. Their theme this year is ‘Stories that Bind Us’, and I think Adamya fits in perfectly. London is a city where memory and migration constantly intersect. To show Adamya there is to place it within a conversation that is both Indian and not entirely Indian anymore. The audience there is acutely aware of the politics of our film and the reality of the world the story is set in. It is also a reminder that stories rooted in a very specific soil can still travel across continents and find resonance.
How do you prepare a film for a festival audience versus a theatrical or OTT audience?
I don’t. And I say that without romanticism. The moment you start preparing a film for different “types” of audiences, you begin to dilute its internal rhythm. Adamya had to remain faithful to its own language — its silences, its pacing, its politics, its discomfort. What changes, perhaps, is the context around the film. The conversations, the subtitles, the way it is introduced. But the film itself remains untouched. I have coined this term ‘From Home to the World’ for our festival travel, meaning, we seek validation from our own people first, and then take it to the world, instead of the usual pattern.
What do you think made Adamya resonate with festival programmers across different countries?
I think it is the paradox at its core. On the surface, it is a very local story— deeply embedded in a specific socio-political reality. But underneath that, it is about isolation, fear, survival, and moral ambiguity. These are not geographically bound emotions. Also, the film resists easy interpretation. It does not tell you what to think. It celebrates resilience, despite being about violence. Programmers, I believe, responded to that openness of spirit — that invites dialogue rather than closes it. Our selection in a coveted list of 10 Indian films for the prestigious “Cinemas of India: FIPRESCI-India Film Festival”, 2026, shows that rooted stories resound the greatest outside its home turf.
Do you see festival selections as validation, visibility, or something else entirely?
If I’m being honest, it begins as relief. Because independent filmmaking is such a fragile process that any form of acknowledgement feels like a reassurance that the film has not disappeared into silence. As for validation, we got huge support from seniors like Aparna Sen, Atanu Ghosh, Srijit Mukherji, and Subrata Sen who spoke widely about the film, as did fellow makers Indrasis Acharya, Arjunn Dutta, Tathagata Mukherjee, Amitabha Chaterji, Abhinandan Dutta and others. Validation from your colleagues is priceless. Our theatrical run of two months was the most important validation — from the audience. Beyond that, I see festival selections as continuity. The film continues to live, to be seen, to be questioned. Validation is temporary. Visibility is conditional. But engagement — that is what stays.
How do you decide which festivals are the right fit for your film?
It’s a mix of instinct and understanding of the film’s temperament. Certain festivals are more receptive to slow cinema, to political ambiguity, to formal experimentation. Others are more audience-driven. The decision is not just about prestige — it is about context. Where will the film be heard? Times have changed drastically. After Dominique Welinski (factory program, the Cannes Film Festival) told me she thought Adamya was the boldest political film from India after Shekhar Kapoor’s Bandit Queen, and also cautioned that no major film festival would support the message of the film, I thought I should take it to my audience first.
Do you think Adamya will be interpreted differently outside India?
Absolutely — and I welcome that. Within India, the film may be read through a very specific political lens. Outside India, that specificity might dissolve, and what remains is the human condition. Someone in Europe might not read it as a commentary on Indian socio-political realities, but as a meditation on alienation or radicalisation or even existential drift. And none of these readings are incorrect. A film, once released, no longer belongs to the filmmaker. It belongs to interpretation.
Do you enjoy the Q&A sessions that come with festival screenings?
I enjoy them, but I also approach them with caution. There is always a temptation to “explain” the film. And I try to resist that. Because the moment I start providing definitive answers, I close down possibilities for the audience. Let them discuss the film and debate it. It is theirs, not mine anymore.
What do they add to your understanding of your own film?
They remind me of what I did not know while making the film. Sometimes an audience member will articulate something that was never consciously intended, and yet it feels completely valid. That is a humbling experience. It tells you that the film has layers beyond your own awareness. And that is the essence of every successful work of art.
How important are reviews and critical responses at festivals to you?
They are important — not as judgment, but as dialogue. Critics engage with the film in a way that is structured, contextual, and often historically informed. They place the film within a larger cinematic conversation. And for a filmmaker, that is invaluable.
Does feedback from international critics influence how you view your own work?
It doesn’t change the work, but it expands my relationship with it. An international critic might see cultural nuances differently, or connect the film to traditions I wasn’t consciously referencing. That widens the film’s horizon for me. But I am careful not to internalise feedback in a way that alters my instinct for future work.
What does recognition at the New York Indian Film Festival mean for the film’s future journey?
Being part of the NYIFF is significant because it connects the film to a very engaged and informed diaspora audience as well as to global industry observers. It selects the best of Indian cinema, and is a great opportunity for us indie makers. It opens doors — for distribution, for conversation. A film like Adamya doesn’t rely on scale — it relies on sustained visibility. And festivals like the NYIFF ensure that the film continues to travel.
Do you consciously shape your storytelling keeping the festival audience in mind?
Never. Because the moment you do that, you risk creating something that is designed rather than discovered. I don’t believe in the idea of a “festival audience” as a monolith. Audiences are always more complex than categories. I make the film I need to make. Where it travels after that is a different journey. I don’t care if it doesn’t travel, if I have been able to create the film I wanted to. Hankering after festival selections reeks of insecurity.
Is there a difference between making a “festival film” and a “mainstream film”?
I think the difference is often overstated. What people call a “festival film” is usually a film that resists conventional narrative structures and the sole purpose of creation is artistic expression. What they call “mainstream” is a film that is engineered for maximum profitability, broad commercial appeal, and entertainment. It follows standard, clear, and conventional narrative structures that are easy for general audiences to follow. But both are forms. Both have their own rigour. There can be a good mainstream film and a bad, pretentious festival film. The danger lies in creating binaries. Cinema is far more fluid than that.
After this festival run, what are your expectations for Adamya in terms of wider release or distribution?
My expectation is modest but sincere — that the film finds the audience that is willing to engage with it. If that happens through additional curated screenings, or through OTT platforms, I am open to all possibilities. But I would prefer the film to be discovered, rather than aggressively pushed. So far, the Calcutta audience has responded very, very positively. As have the critics. Let’s see how the rest of India and the world respond to it now.
Do you think festival exposure helps independent films find a larger audience in India?
Yes, but indirectly. Festival exposure builds credibility, and credibility often becomes a bridge to wider access — whether through distributors, platforms, or even word-of-mouth within cinephile communities. But ultimately, the challenge in India is infrastructural. Independent films need more sustained exhibition spaces. Festivals can ignite interest. But for that interest to grow, there needs to be continuity beyond the festival circuit.