SCOOP: Sanjay Dutt-starrer Aakhri Sawal unlikely to release in cinemas on May 8 due to censor issues; makers eye May 15 release

Bollywood Hungama has exclusively learned that Aakhri Sawal, which was all set to release in cinemas on May 8, is unlikely to make it to theatres on the scheduled date due to censor certification issues. We were the first ones to report last week that even the trailer has not yet been cleared by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC). The trailer, like the film, is still awaiting clearance from the Censor Board. A source told Bollywood Hungama, “The nature of the film and its plot is such that the CBFC members are being cautious. The makers have explained to the CBFC committee that their film is based on historical events and records and hence, deserves to be released. The discussions between the makers and the CBFC have taken a lot of time. Hence, the producers of Aakhri Sawal felt that it would be wise to push the film to a later date.” The source continued, “At present, the makers are considering releasing their film on May 15. Of course, this will be subject to receiving t...

‘I’m not a saint’: Abel Ferrara on his wild career, rehab and nightclubbing with Donald Trump

The last time our writer interviewed him, the drugged up director dozed off then asked for coke. Now sober, he reflects on #MeToo, Italian fascism and his fight for the final cut

The last time I met Abel Ferrara, he dozed off in the middle of our interview then woke up and asked me to score him some coke. It was 1996, and he was in the UK promoting his gangster drama The Funeral – which the actor Vincent Gallo alleged Ferrara had been too blitzed on crack to direct properly – and his vampire horror The Addiction. He was on a roll, his reputation fortified by King of New York, starring Christopher Walken as a flamboyant crime boss, and the gruelling Bad Lieutenant, with Harvey Keitel as a bent junkie cop. Ferrara was the scuzzball Scorsese: no matter how celebrated he became, he never shed the patina of grime from his early days as the star and director of porn film The Nine Lives of a Wet Pussy and the infamous “video nasty” The Driller Killer.

“You were the guy I fell asleep with?” he gasps now from his bright, high-ceilinged living room in Rome. He is calling via Zoom, his laptop resting on a shelf so he can pace around as he speaks, drinking from a bottle of San Pellegrino that he clutches by the neck. “You’re the guy? I’m sorry, man! Really, really.” Then he switches tack. “You let me down! You were 24, living in London, and you didn’t know where to score?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “All right. So where could we get some now?” A sandpapery cackle fills the air as he rocks on his heels. His hunched posture and jutting jaw make him the spit of the cartoon dog Muttley. He laughs like him, too.

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