In the early 1990s, when Indian cinema remained largely confined to Indian American communities and specialty theaters, Gregory Hatanaka stood at the vanguard of introducing the vibrancy, scope, and artistry of Indian films to wider American audiences. At a time when Bollywood and regional Indian cinema were rarely screened outside community circuits, Hatanaka brought films by master directors like Satyajit Ray, Mukul S. Anand, and Santosh Sivan into national arthouse theaters. His efforts helped lay the groundwork for the eventual global recognition of Indian cinema as more than a cultural niche—it was world cinema.
“It was a different world then,” Hatanaka reflects. “Indian films didn’t play for crossover audiences. They were shipped to the U.S. in 35mm prints, heavy gold shipping cases that weighed fifty, sixty pounds. You’d lug them through airports, get them to the Laemmle or Landmark theaters, and hope the non-Indian audiences would take a chance. It was before the word ‘Bollywood’ even caught on.”
A Bridge Between Ray and American Audiences
Hatanaka’s career intersected with Indian cinema at a pivotal moment. He distributed Agantuk (The Stranger), the final film by legendary Academy Award–winning director Satyajit Ray. Released in 1991, the film was a reflective summation of Ray’s artistry and worldview. For Hatanaka, it was both a privilege and a mission to bring Ray’s final vision to audiences far beyond Bengal.
“The first time I held the print of Agantuk, I thought: this is history in my hands,” he recalls. “It was more than just a movie—it was the farewell of one of cinema’s greatest humanists.”
He also championed the work of Ray’s son, Sandip Ray, distributing films like Target (starring Om Puri) and Uttoran (The Broken Journey), helping ensure that the Ray family’s legacy reached cinephiles across the U.S.
Bachchan, Sridevi, and the Epic Spectacle
If Satyajit Ray embodied Indian cinema’s artistry, directors like Mukul S. Anand and stars like Amitabh Bachchan and Sridevi embodied its grandeur. Hatanaka distributed KhudaGawah (God is the Witness), Anand’s sweeping epic starring Bachchan and Sridevi, with its lavish action sequences, melodrama, and operatic scale.
“To me, Khuda Gawah was like a Hollywood roadshow picture—Cecil B. DeMille on one hand, and Shakespearean tragedy on the other,” Hatanaka explains. “When Amitabh and Danny Denzongpa clashed on screen, it was unforgettable. I’ve always said Agneepath is one of the greatest films ever made, and Bachchan’s performance there, opposite Danny, is towering.”
He adds with a laugh, “And let’s not forget—when you were working with directors like Mukul S. Anand or Subhash Ghai back then, India was still all film. No digital cameras, no digital sound. It was sweat, celluloid, and love of cinema.”
Santosh Sivan and The Terrorist
Perhaps the most striking of Hatanaka’s Indian releases was The Terrorist, directed by acclaimed cinematographer and filmmaker Santosh Sivan. The minimalist Tamil-language drama followed a young female assassin preparing for a suicide mission. The film was championed in the U.S. by none other than John Malkovich, who wrote an impassioned essay in The New York Times during its theatrical release, calling attention to its lyrical style and moral urgency.
“The Terrorist felt different from anything else—it had the art film sensibility of Tarkovsky but rooted in India’s soil,” Hatanaka says. “To play it in arthouse theaters across America, and to see Malkovich embrace it, was one of those moments where you felt cinema crossing all boundaries.”
Building an Indian Film Library in America
Beyond new releases, Hatanaka also worked with major Hindi titles that were redefining Indian popular cinema. He helped distribute films like Roja, Rangeela, and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, introducing A.R. Rahman’s music, Mani Ratnam’s storytelling, and Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s visual opulence to audiences who might otherwise have never encountered them.
He notes, “I was obsessed with the music. I still am. The other night, I was listening to Tu Hi Re from Mani Ratnam’s Bombay, and I compared it across the Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, and Malayalam versions. Each has its own nuance, a distinct color. That’s the beauty of Indian cinema—songs travel across languages, but the emotion is always there.”
Living Cinema in India
Hatanaka spent extended time in India during this period, experiences that left deep impressions. He fondly remembers shooting in Chennai, eating masala dosas with locals, and seeing firsthand how cinema was woven into daily life.
“One of my greatest memories was going to a reissue screening of My Dear Kuttichathan in 3D,” he recalls. “It was India’s first 3D film, and to watch it in a grand Indian movie palace with locals—it was pure magic. The audience laughed, gasped, and reached out at the screen. You realize: in India, people don’t just watch cinema—they live it.”
Love for Bollywood Stars and Song-and-Dance
Hatanaka is quick to admit his personal affection for Bollywood. “I’ve always had crushes on actresses like Rani Mukherji, Kajol, Urmila Matondkar,” he confesses. “There’s something about that era—their charisma filled the screen.”
His fandom extends to later films as well. “I love Om Shanti Om. That sequence with all the actors in DeewangiDeewangi—it’s like a country celebrating itself through cinema. It’s obsessive, joyous, almost religious.”
A Lost Theatrical Experience
For Hatanaka, the biggest change since those days is the decline of the theatrical experience. “Back then, watching a Hindi film was like a roadshow event. Families came together, there were intermissions, refreshments, and the whole evening was cinema. You’d buy the soundtrack cassette at the theater. That experience is being lost everywhere, not just in India.”
His voice softens as he adds, “We can’t forget that cinema was meant for the big screen, for the collective. Streaming is convenient, but when you’ve sat in a packed house watching Amitabh Bachchan take down his enemies, or when A.R. Rahman’s music swells in a theater—those are moments you never forget.”
A Pioneer before the Crossover
Today, Bollywood stars walk red carpets at Cannes, A.R. Rahman wins Oscars, and Indian films stream globally. But back in the 1990s, Gregory Hatanaka was taking a gamble—shipping heavy 35mm prints across oceans, booking them into art houses like Laemmle, Landmark, and Film Forum, and building DVD libraries for curious cinephiles.
“I just loved the movies,” Hatanaka says. “Before Indian cinema was a crossover, before Bollywood became a global brand—I wanted people here to see what I saw. To feel that magic.”
Thanks to those efforts, a generation of American moviegoers discovered Satyajit Ray’s final masterpiece, Amitabh Bachchan’s firebrand performances, and the artistry of Santosh Sivan and Mani Ratnam—not as exotic imports, but as cinema, pure and universal.
