Aanand L Rai REACTS to Rs 84 crores lawsuit over Raanjhanaa IP dispute: “I don't think it has any meaning”

Filmmaker Aanand L Rai has responded to a Rs 84 crore lawsuit filed by Eros International Media Ltd, which has accused him and his production company of unauthorised use of intellectual property linked to the 2013 film Raanjhanaa. Reacting to the legal action, Aanand L Rai described the dispute as a routine business issue and maintained that it does not warrant public speculation. Speaking to NDTV, he said, "These are part of life. When you step into business, such things keep happening. I don't even know why, how, or from where this has come. But I think it is a legal matter, so let the legal people handle it. There is a lawyer on their side, and a lawyer from here will respond too. I don't think it has any meaning. Anyone can say anything about anything at any time. So it's not something to be taken too seriously. It's more for the lawyers to deal with. Since it's a legal matter, I won't speak much about it, but it's nothing serious." Eros Alleg...

‘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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