American editor Varun Viswanath, who grew up as a Tamil-Malayali Bengaluru boy, spent a typical morning wrangling his son into the car before his phone started to blow up. It’s Patrick, his co-editor, who almost never calls. “We did it! We got nominated!” For the first-time Emmy nominee, the memory of a young Varun wrestling with stage lights in Bengaluru city hall seemed like a lifetime ago. The predilection for orchestrating behind the scenes, seems to have foreseen the career he would eventually embrace.
At 18, a scholarship whisked him away to Singapore, where he was expected to pursue a path well-trodden by the Indian diaspora. While his peers saw only the allure of giants like Sony or Nokia, for Varun, the stage and the screen beckoned. Extra-curricular activities became his lifeline, and he transformed from an aspiring engineer to a storyteller, albeit one who still knew his way around a soldering iron.
The 2008 financial crisis was the deus ex machina that nudged him towards his true calling. As the corporate grind lost its sheen, the chaos of filmmaking became his sanctuary. A serendipitous connection with director Anurag Kashyap, who optioned a friend’s book, catalysed this shift. A feature film, shot on a shoestring budget in Singapore, was the tipping point.
Masking his artistic aspirations under the guise of MBA applications, Varun landed a spot in the American Film Institute’s (AFI) editing programme. Here, amid classmates who had already won Emmys and professors moonlighting on Game of Thrones, he found his tribe.
Varun with AFI classmates and teachers | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Though the thesis film he edited was nominated for a Student Academy Award, his first professional gig in the US was a humbling night-shift assistant editor role on a reality show. “Bottom of the barrel stuff,” he chuckles.
An apprenticeship under seasoned editors led to one of his first big breaks as an assistant editor on Arrested Development. But it was his work on Taika Waititi’s vampire mockumentary What We Do in the Shadows that truly marked his ascent. His editing on the quirky, genre-defying comedy earned him an American Cinematic Editors (ACE) Eddie Award nomination and subsequent ACE accreditation.
Emmy nominees Patrick Tuck and Varun Viswanath | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Soon after, with Reservation Dogs, Varun seems to have found his magnum opus. From its indie pilot to the meteoric rise as a critically acclaimed series, his editing alongside co-editor Patrick Tuck, has been instrumental in capturing the raw, authentic voices of the ragtag troupe of the series’ leading Indigenous stars in rural Oklahoma. The show’s success — garnering widespread acclaim and a fervent fan base — culminated in multiple Emmy nominations for its third and final season, which many would attest has been atrociously overdue.
Today, as Varun stands on the precipice of his first potential Emmy win, he talks about his experiences in the cutting room on Reservation Dogs and the responses to his first Television Academy nomination.
Excerpts:
You’ve collaborated with Taika Waititi for many years, and his creative vision also carries over into ‘Reservation Dogs’. I’m curious about the transition from a supernatural mockumentary like ‘What We Do in the Shadows’ to a more grounded coming-of-age dramedy in Sterlin Harjo’s vision for ‘Reservation Dogs’...
Varun: The rhythms, the cadence, everything is different between the two shows. The big difference is that with Reservation Dogs, we’re trying to depict real people and stay grounded because it’s about real people. In Shadows, you’ve created absurd characters from scratch, so it’s easier to jump into that. The style of comedy is very similar though—people talking past each other, misunderstandings, awkward silences, and rapid-fire offbeat characters.
Taika’s other works, like his indie films, are grounded in real emotions and real people, not stereotypes, although sometimes he subverts them. This also carries over into Reservation Dogs and resonates with rural communities. But more so than Taika, it’s really Sterlin’s vision that shines through.
I was initially worried about joining Reservation Dogs. As a big city kid, I didn’t know much about American rural culture. The first thing that pops into my mind when people talk about that is the Texas cowboy, “get off my lawn” or “don’t tread on me” culture, but that’s not what it was. I realised that afterwards, but I feared my instincts wouldn’t be trusted.
Surprisingly, I found that the feeling of community and family in Reservation Dogs reminded me of my own upbringing. It’s about how we treat each other like family, even if we don’t know exactly how someone is related. Reservation Dogs is about the entire community around the teenagers, not just a high school hangout.
For me, the theme that resonated most with ‘Reservation Dogs’ was the sense of belonging; did your experiences living in different countries and with dual identities influence your approach to editing the show?
Varun: Oh my god, absolutely. I’ve talked about my quest for a sense of belonging to death. I’m drawn to stories about belonging, place, community, and connection. I want to populate stories with as much detail as possible for both insiders and outsiders to connect with.
When I speak to Indian-Americans, like my wife who grew up in Silicon Valley, I see how different their experience with belonging is compared to mine growing up in Bangalore, where I felt a strong sense of belonging. Moving to different countries and constantly trying to figure out where I belong has shaped my storytelling.
Varun speaking at the FYC AFI Panel in 2024 | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
Living in Singapore felt claustrophobic, culturally and socially. I didn’t feel a sense of belonging there, which was hard. But in LA, working in this industry, I found a place where people appreciate diverse backgrounds. I felt welcomed and championed and this sense of belonging is something I strive to incorporate into my work.
Tamil humour, especially in cinema, occupies a unique space within Indian comedy; its nuances often get lost in translation. Was it the same when working on ‘Reservation Dogs’? Did you find that some of the comedy’s nuances were lost to the English-speaking audience?
Varun: More than lost in translation, there’s often a disinterest. It’s not that people don’t get it; they just don’t care. This is common for Native American art, whether it’s paintings, stage performances, or television. People tend to have a limited, stereotypical view of Native Americans.
Reservation Dogs uses this to its advantage, making fun of these stereotypes and giving non-native viewers permission to laugh with them. It took time for audiences to become invested, but the characters are compelling, and over time, people started to appreciate the comedy more.
A still from ‘Reservation Dogs’ Season 3 | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
My dad, for instance, didn’t understand it, but that’s fine. Creative swings won’t resonate with everyone. In Hollywood, they’ve figured out that enough people will watch and appreciate it to make it worth producing.
There is definitely humour lost in translation, but getting those belly laughs and emotional connections from people who do get it is very satisfying. At the end of the day, it’s about making meaningful connections through storytelling.
Comedy series contenders have been under fire as of late for supposedly frauding their way into the comedy categories, ‘The Bear’ being bang in the middle of this discourse. Can you walk us through your process towards finding the perfect tonal balance between the comic and the dramatic?
Varun: With Reservation Dogs, one of the key rules was to aim for tonal balance, but whenever in doubt, we err in favour of comedy. We often faced issues with overly lengthy, dialogue-heavy scenes, and had to make editorial decisions on what was essential and what could be left open-ended.
If a scene became too intense, we pulled it back with a joke, sometimes finding the right comedic moment from different parts of the scene. In later episodes of season one, themes of loss, death, and suicide were more prominent. While we let some of these moments play out heavily, we generally sandwiched dramatic scenes with comedy.
I think there’s a lot of heart in it, and it’s not that you’re trying to force drama, like making people stew in their own misery. It’s not about amplifying the drama, but rather letting it naturally emerge from the writing. The actors then create a sense of calm, which is where the balance lies.
What has the response to the news of your nomination been like from back home in India?
Varun: I haven’t fully engaged with it yet. People I know who are familiar with the Emmy awards, like my friends, have been reacting with surprise and excitement. My phone has been blowing up with congratulatory messages. There are a few journalists who have reached out, and I’m very close friends with Hemant Rao, the Kannada director who also works in Mumbai. Hemant introduced me to some people, and while there have been some responses, the buzz is still muted because it’s only been a few days.
Varun with his son Ishaan in Editing room at AFI | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement
My mom often says, “Indha English padam pathi onnumey theriyadhu da!” (I can’t make head or tail of English films/shows). It’s been a bit like that for me in the past few days. I’m trying to engage with it as thoughtfully as possible.
All seasons of FX’s Reservation Dogs are currently streaming on Hotstar.
