Thursday, January 25, 2018
Padmaavat
Beautiful And Regressive
First of all, the Rajputs have
nothing to object about in Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Padmaavat. The filmmaker has
glorified their valour and even their foolishness couched as ‘usool’ (principles). If at all anyone has the right to protest
somewhat, it would be the descendants (if any) of the Khilji clan, portrayed as
greedy, lustful, unscrupulous savages without a trace of human decency.
The film throws a challenge at all
those who decry the Karni Sena violence and the political filibustering that
followed, if freedom of expression and creative liberty are to be safeguarded,
then Bhansali’s film with its discomfiting currents of sexism, racism and
obscurantism has to be defended too. Maybe the last is slightly acceptable
because it is a period film, but then the question arises, why made film that
glorifies mass female ritual suicide (jauhar).
At the time when the story is set (14th century), with constant
warfare going on and repeated invasions by foreign (read Muslim) rulers, the
only way to save women from dishonor was to kill them. The onus of honour was
on the shoulders of women then, as now; unlike Japanese harakiri, under which men killed themselves by the sword if they
were dishonoured. But watching a film
today, in which a queen exhorts a horde of women dressed in bridal red
(including a pregnant woman and a child) to jump into the fire, is distressing.
That along with the Rani of Jhansi, Rani Padmavati is practically the only
woman from Indian history held up as an example of courageous womanhood, is even
more disturbing.
That said, the film will be seen by
audiences in large numbers, because Bhansali lays out spectacle like no
other. Everything is opulent,
larger-than-life (kudos to the production design and costume team) and
aesthetically lit and shot (Sudeep Chatterjee), even the dark, unsightly living
quarters of the Khilji barbarians.
Ranveer Singh plays Alauddin Khilji
with energetic glee and the many close-ups show him with an avaricious or
depraved expression. In contrast, Rawal Ratan Singh of Chittor is upright and
dignified. When he falls in love with Sinhala princess Padmavati (Deepika
Padukone), he marries her; the first wife Nagmati Anupriya Goenka) summarily discarded.
Khilji treats his wife Mehrunnisa (Aditi Rao Hydari) disrespectfully, kills her
father and brother; on the day of his wedding to her, he is with another woman,
and then dances with wild abandon.
His blood thirst and lust are
Khilji’s only defining features—he even has a male lover, his chief aide Malik
Kafoor (Jim Sarbh), used for mild comic relief and referred to contemptuously
as Khilji’s begum.
Ratan Singh banishes his Rajguru
(Aayam Mehta) on his new bride’s insistence; he promptly joins the Khilji camp
and tells him that he could rule the world with the beautiful Padmavati by his
side. Khilji carries out a long siege of Chittor that ends with the capture of
Ratan Singh. Padmavati, crosses the palace threshold, that was forbidden to
women, and actually rescues her husband without ever showing her face to any
enemy male. An enraged Khilji attacks viciously this time, and the end of the
story is known, so it’s no spoiler.
Bhansali uses bits of his own
films—the swirling ghaghra
dance, Khilji doing a macho
foot-stomping number Khali Bali, just
like Malhari from Bajirao Mastani; in the earlier film the
romance grew when the woman was wounded, in this when Ratan Singh is
accidentally shot by Padmavati’s arrow. (There is even a nod to the last scene from Ketan Mehta's Mirch Masala).
To his credit, Bhansali portrays Padmavati
as intelligent and brave, he also gives Mehrunnisa a redeeming sequence and a
spine—both women were restricted by social rules of their time, or they might
have lived better.
Khilji had more to him than his
insane desire for an unseen queen—he was known for reforms and pro-poor
measures-- but Bhansali’s film has no room for nuance. All characters are uni-dimensional,
still, Ranveer Singh’s fascinatingly vile warrior king overshadows both
kohl-eyed and stiff upper-lip Shahid Kapoor, as well as the gorgeous Deepika
Padukone using her expressive eyes. Unfortunately, the prominent image of Padmavati
in the film is her marching resolutely to her death, of course, not before
taking permission from her husband to die. By the time the inevitable climax arrives,
viewer are probably exhausted, if they weren’t already with the needless
controversy surrounding the film.
Labels: Cinemaah
Monday, January 22, 2018
My Birthday Song
Confusion Confounded
There’s unseasonal rain in Delhi, a successful adman is celebrating his fortieth birthday. His wife is away, a pretty woman keeps eyeing him, and makes an excuse to stay on when other guests have left. The man has no qualms about a roll in bed with a consensual partner. The evening ends in a shock for him, but things are not what they seem.
Actor Samir Soni has written, co-produced and directed My Birthday Song,attempting a ‘psychological thriller’ that is beyond his capabilities as a newbie director, and beyond the acting skills of his cast; since Suri is in every frame, that is a problem. A plot like this has to be convincing even in its realm of illogicality or alternate reality – Groundhog Day is a fine example.
Anyway, when Rajiv Kaul (Sanjay Suri) wakes up the next day, everybody is wishing him a happy birthday and there is no sign of the party or the incident of the previous evening, but things that were said then, seem to be coming true. It would spook anyone, and Rajiv is baffled when the shocking event seems to recur.
The script bungs in many inexplicable happenings, but doesn’t go anywhere. When the ‘aha’ moment comes, it is too late, and too implausible. If the director is tying himself up in knots, at least the pace should be so brisk that the audience doesn’t get a chance to think; but a lot of the film’s run time has Kaul run around with a bewildered expression or drive around maniacally; every scene goes on for much too long and is accompanied by an obtrusive soundtrack.
The best thing that could be said about My Birthday Song is that at least the first-time director did not pander to commercial demands and made the kind of film he wanted to.
Labels: Cinemaah
