Nilankur Das
A mischievous smile spreads across Tanmay Dhanania’s face when you ask him about his whereabouts on October 20, revealing that he was at the India premiere of ‘The Shameless’ at the MAMI Mumbai Film Festival. The film has garnered widespread recognition, including the prestigious Best Actress Award for Anasuya Sengupta in the Un Certain Regard section at the Cannes Film Festival—the first of its kind for an Indian actor. In this film, Tanmay plays the good-hearted ‘Murad,’ a character that contrasts sharply with the morally ambiguous, darker roles he typically embodies.
He reflects on his recent film ‘Nishiddho’, a Malayalam-Bengali production that allowed him to portray a Bengali migrant who moves to Kerala, taking on the role of an artist who arrives as a migrant labourer. Filmed after the lockdown, ‘Nishiddho’ mirrors the migrant experience at a time when workers across India were heavily impacted by the pandemic. He recalls, "It really showed what their lives were like.” Observing similar patterns among Goa’s migrant labourers, many of whom hail from Bengal, he notes how shopkeepers in his neighborhood keep ‘Muri’ (puffed rice), a staple of the Bengali diet, pointing out the universal nature of these issues. Living in Goa, he is acutely aware of the demographic shifts surrounding the concepts of insider and outsider. As an actor, he navigates between these two realities, making the insider-outsider dynamic especially significant to him.
He grew up in Kolkata, in an orthodox Marwari family where pursuing theatre seemed out of reach. "I wanted to do theatre and act, but I had no way of actually pursuing it," he reflects. Determined to find a route, he applied himself to academics, securing a scholarship to study nuclear engineering at the University of California at Berkeley. He followed his calling to London, where his journey continued in theatre school, Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA)—a fitting stage for the new chapter he had longed for. He had some inspirational teachers at RADA, he sensed a lack of space for non-white actors. “The training was geared towards white actors,” he explains. “I was labeled as an ‘actor of colour’, but I didn’t want my artistic credibility to be based on just where I’m from or be part of a niche.” This realisation was significant; he didn't want to be confined to roles based on his background. So even though he worked on some British television shows like ‘Indian Summers’ for Channel 4 and ‘The Durrells’ on itv, he was determined to return to India to make work.
Coming back to his favourite film, ‘Nishiddho’ opened his eyes to the Kerala film industry’s collaborative, equitable approach. “I realised that there, everyone comes together to make the film. There’s no star-led culture, just everyone on set, working, eating, being together,” he recalls. This camaraderie reminded him of his theatre days, where the collective effort brought stories to life. “That way of working, where everyone’s invested in creating something together rather than just doing a job and going home, that’s what made ‘Nishiddho’ so memorable.” He admires how Malayalam cinema utilises its resources effectively to tell richer, more authentic stories.
He shares a longstanding connection with Goa that predates his move here. In 2017, his relationship deepened when he took on the role of a taxi driver in Goa in the feature film ‘Garbage’. "Before filming began, I drove a taxi for three weeks during the monsoon," he recalls. “It was an eye-opening experience, where the monsoon transformed Goa into something tranquil and profound. The soundtrack of the film became the sound of wipers, there was no network, no distractions.” In this solitude, he found a sense of peace. Immersing himself fully, he kept to himself, ate sparingly to match his character’s emaciated look, and inhabited a quiet, introspective space. “I think I really fell in love with Goa at that time,” he reflects, acknowledging how the experience fed his creative process.
Looking back, he sees how his time here had changed his perspective, making him less inclined toward Bombay's high-stakes atmosphere. Goa has offered him a life that Bombay couldn’t, rich with community, nature, and a sense of anonymity that fuels his creative spirit. Goa also offered the anonymity he craved. “I like the independence here. You drive yourself, you do your own things. There’s a sense of privacy and autonomy, I just didn’t find in Bombay.” This environment, he feels, has shaped not only his acting but also his evolution beyond just being an actor. "Goa has been instrumental in my journey," he says, finding inspiration in its balance of independence and community.
One of the projects Tanmay has started in Goa is the ‘The Actors as a Maker’- workshops designed to help actors move beyond the traditional model of just executing a script. Instead, it emphasises a modern approach where actors play an active role in creating and shaping characters alongside directors. The workshop offers insights into how actors can make their own work, cultivate artistic agency, and approach acting as an art form that requires thoughtful, creative choices. He is encouraging actors to view their craft as an ongoing, daily commitment—much like a musician’s Riyaz or a dancer's disciplined training—giving them a sense of ownership over their creative process. By finding and shaping their own voice, actors aren't just performers—they become storytellers who can initiate projects, evolve ideas, and collaborate meaningfully. This kind of active, self-driven artistry has the potential to reshape the entire industry from the ground up.
He often plays roles that might be deemed ‘disgusting’ or devoid of a moral compass, yet he is adamant about not viewing them as inherently bad. He believes that once an actor judges a character, they compromise their performance. Instead, he argues that empathy is essential, regardless of the character’s actions. He has portrayed serial killers, heroin addicts and convicts and maintains that understanding their humanity is crucial.
He views all performance as a pursuit of authenticity. Regardless of the medium, he believes that the heart of acting lies in its ability to convey truth. He emphasises the importance of truthfulness in acting and storytelling, suggesting that art is most impactful when it resonates with authenticity rather than simply trying to appeal to popular tastes. He believes that embracing a truthful approach enriches the narrative and enhances its visual beauty, resulting in meaningful connections with the audience.
To sum it all, he advocates for a deeper engagement with art that transcends fleeting trends, encouraging artists and audiences alike to seek out and support stories that reflect their shared truths and experiences.