Govinda announces comeback with self-produced film Roopa; says, “People kept saying, ‘Now he won’t appear in films anymore’”

Veteran Bollywood star Govinda is all set to return to the big screen with a brand-new project. The actor recently hosted a press conference to officially announce his comeback film, Roopa, marking his return to cinema after a prolonged gap. At the event, Govinda unveiled the first poster of the film, introduced newcomer Rani Swarankar as the leading lady, and revealed that he is also producing the project. Once among the biggest superstars of the 1990s, Govinda has largely stayed away from films in recent years after a string of releases failed to leave an impact at the box office. However, the actor appeared confident and optimistic as he spoke about embarking on a fresh journey with Roopa. Opening up about the challenges he has faced over the years and his determination to keep moving forward, Govinda said, “Maybe it was destiny that I was written off so many times. People kept saying, ‘Now he won’t appear in films anymore.’ But I always started again. I pray to God that this film ...

‘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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