Meenakshi Shedde’s 27-year Berlinane legacy
As the cinematic world gears up for the 76th Berlin International Film Festival (Berlinale), set to light up the winter from February 12 to 22, 2026, the spotlight again turns to the vibrant and often overlooked narratives of South Asia.
In an industry that produces nearly eight times the output of Hollywood, navigating the sheer volume of 4,000 annual features requires a seasoned eye and a profound understanding of cultural nuance.
Observer Muse had the exclusive opportunity to sit with Meenakshi Shedde, the Berlinale’s South Asia Delegate, who has spent the past 27 years acting as a vital bridge between the grassroots realities of the Indian subcontinent and the glamorous red carpets of Europe.
A National Award-winning critic and advocate for regional voices, Shedde shares her journey from “happy accidents” in Mumbai journalism to becoming a global gatekeeper for South Asian cinema, offering rare insights into why India remains an “inward-looking” powerhouse and how the next generation of filmmakers is finally “connecting the dots” on the world stage.
As she prepares to pass the baton, this conversation also marks a significant transition for the festival, as renowned programmer and producer Anu Rangachar is set to take over as the South Asia Delegate from 2026 onwards.
Q: You say that your journey into film criticism began almost by accident. How did a journalist at the Times of India end up being a jury member at the world’s “Big Three” film festivals?
A: It was truly a series of happy accidents. At the time, the main critics only covered Hollywood and Bollywood, and I felt a sense of guilt that we were ignoring the incredible talent in regional Indian cinema. I began writing about Malayalam, Tamil, and Marathi films simply because I loved them — it was my “guilty pleasure.”
When I won the National Award in 1998 as the Critic of the year, it was a shock. It forced me to transition from an amateur enthusiast to a professional who studied the craft of criticism seriously. It happened very rapidly after the National Award. Between 2000 and 2002, I was invited to serve on the Fipresci (International Federation of Film Critics) juries at Cannes, Berlin, and Venice in successive years.
During these festivals, I had the opportunity to meet the festival directors. They admitted they knew great films were being made in India but didn’t know how to find them amidst the “tons of rubbish” they received. They asked for my recommendations, and Berlin was the first to formalize this into a contract, respecting the labor and expertise involved.
Q: You’ve been with the Berlinale for 27 years. How has the actual labour of programming changed since you started in the late 90s?
A: The physical process has changed completely. When I started, these were the days of VHS. Someone had to physically mail a tape to you, you had to watch it on a VHS player, and then mail the recommended tapes to Berlin. It was labor-intensive and complicated. Today, it’s all digital; I get a link and watch it on my laptop. However, while the technology is easier, the volume has increased, making the “curation” aspect even more vital.
Q: As a programmer for a Western festival, how do you balance your Indian perspective with how a European audience might perceive a film?
A: My brain is constantly “split.” I see a film for what it means to me as an Indian film lover, but I also anticipate how a Western programmer might see it. For example, a gay-themed film might be revolutionary and daring in India because theatrical releases for such films are rare.
But for Berlin, which has shown LGBTQ+ cinema for 60 years, the mere topic isn’t enough; the film has to be artistically unusual. My job isn’t to cater to a “Western gaze” but to provide the cultural context — to explain why a certain film is daring or politically significant in today’s South Asia. India is the most prolific filmmaking country in the world. We produce about 4,000 feature films a year (and 17,000 total films if you include shorts).
To put that in perspective, Hollywood makes only about 700 features. We make eight times as many films as Hollywood. Furthermore, we make films in 55 languages and dialects, which is double the linguistic diversity of the entire European Union.
Q: Given this massive output, why is India often described as “inward-looking”?
A: Unlike Hollywood, which has been aggressively interested in world domination for a century, India is a domestically huge market, much like China and the US. Even if we never exported a single film, we could still sustain a healthy industry because of our internal audience. While we’ve become more interested in exporting films in the last 20 years, our primary focus remains our own incredibly rich and diverse domestic culture.
Q: You describe yourself as having a “third life” parallel to your career in film. How do these two worlds — the grassroots and the red carpet — interact for you?
A: For me, these two lives nurture each other. While my love for film takes me to glamorous festivals like Cannes, Berlin, and Venice, I consider my work in development issues — specifically gender, water, education, and health — to be my “grassroots life.”
Having a foot in both worlds makes me feel like a “complete person” in my career. It keeps me grounded so that I don’t just see film as an industry, but as something that reflects the reality of the people on the street.
Q: In 1998, you helped bring Mani Ratnam’s Dil Se to the Berlin Film Festival’s “Forum” section, which is traditionally for experimental cinema. Why was such a mainstream film placed there?
A: It was a deliberate choice to reintroduce international audiences to the health of the Indian film industry. In most countries, Hollywood has destroyed national cinema — the French or Sri Lankans often watch more Hollywood than their own films.
In India, however, Hollywood is “small change,” making up barely 10% of the market even after a century. By putting films such as ‘Dil Se’ or ‘Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam’ in an experimental section, we were showing the world a unique craftsmanship where a national cinema remains vibrant and dominant despite global pressures.
Q: There is often tension between “indie” filmmakers and the “mainstream” industry. Where do you stand on this divide?
Meenakshi Shedde
A: I don’t believe in an antagonistic approach. A film industry cannot survive on small indie projects alone; they don’t create enough jobs or sustain the theatres and streaming platforms. You need the big numbers of the mainstream to keep the ecosystem healthy.
Furthermore, high-profile stars such asShah Rukh Khan act as a “gateway.” Someone who can’t get a ticket to a blockbuster might decide to see a smaller Indian indie film instead. Both need each other to survive.
Q: You have been a vocal advocate for South Asian cinema beyond Bollywood. Why is this regional focus so important to you?
A: South Asia represents one-fourth of the world’s population, yet we often don’t see ourselves as a unified body or encourage each other’s art. I am especially interested in the “margins” because that is where the richness lies. For example, last year, a Nepali film (‘Shambhala’ by Min Bahadur Bham) was in the main competition at Berlin — the first South Asian film there in 30 years — and it wasn’t Indian. To see countries such as Nepal, Bhutan, and Sri Lanka producing world-class cinema despite having almost no infrastructure is a testament to their incredible achievement.
Q: How does India’s film infrastructure play a role in the success of its neighbours?
A: It is a “win-win” collaboration. Filmmakers in Bhutan or Nepal often have to come to India (Kolkata or Chennai) to complete their sound or create a DCP (Digital Cinema Package) because they lack those facilities at home. When India collaborates with its neighbors, we aren’t “doing them a favour” — we are developing a South Asian market that benefits all of us. Lending our names as creative or executive producers raises the profile of their films and strengthens the entire region’s cinematic voice.
Q: You mention the film Little Jaffna by Lawrence Valin. Why is the diaspora’s perspective so important to the “home” industry?
A: The diaspora represents a “second gaze.” When we showed Little Jaffna at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), second-generation Sri Lankan Tamils were incredibly moved because they finally saw themselves on screen. There is often a disconnect where the local industry and the diaspora exist in silos. We need to “join the dots.”
These filmmakers want to reach their homeland, and the homeland can benefit from the international platform these filmmakers have already built.
Q: For a young filmmaker or critic in a country such as Sri Lanka, where resources are scarce, what is your best advice for getting noticed internationally?
A: Don’t reinvent the wheel. Connect with people who are already in that space. Whether it is high-profile filmmakers, critics, or the diaspora in the US, UK, or Australia — build a community.
It can be as simple as an online group or a Facebook page. I am part of the Bichitra Collective, which started during Covid-19. It’s a group of South Asian women supporting documentary filmmakers. They raised money in the US to support creators in India. Supportive bodies exist; you just have to be out there, ask for support, and create something convincing.
Bavaneedha Loganathan is an excellent example because she didn’t just wait for a solution; she became the solution. She secured “Mastercard Enablement” funding by presenting a clear, step-by-step plan. She started with a lab to mentor scripts for marginalized groups — including LGBTQ+, disabled people, and plantation laborers—and moved toward production money. She proved that international platforms are hungry for original, authentic stories from underrepresented voices.
Q: How do you see the relationship between different South Asian film industries evolving?
A: We need to stop seeing ourselves as isolated markets. When India collaborates with its neighbours, it isn’t a favour; it’s a “win-win.” By creating a unified South Asian market, we create a bigger audience for everyone. We have a shared history and similar challenges — when we join our artistic dots, we become a global force that is impossible to ignore