Padmaavat – No Great Shakes

Padmaavat

Nothing can be said about Padmavati….err, Padmaavat, here that hasn’t been said before or will not be said hereafter. The drama surrounding the film – from the attack on the director on the sets last year by fringe elements to the Supreme Court’s breakthrough judgement in allowing the film’s pan-India release – deserves to be made into a film of its own. For now however, I’ll restrict myself to writing only about the film.

Sanjay Leela Bhansali is perhaps the only Bombay filmmaker who can do grandeur without gaudiness on a consistent basis. His films have a larger-than-life look to them, but he makes it seem so normal and natural on screen that even people like me who would pick a gritty film like Black Friday over a massively-mounted one of the Bajirao Mastani kind just watch what Bhansali creates in awe. He may not make the most intellectually absorbing films but he strives to be distinct (or maybe he just is, without trying) from everyone else. You can barely tell most films from the Yash Raj/Dharma cannon apart, but Bhansali’s work has that distinct stamp to it that you know from a single frame that no one else could be behind it.

After tackling the romantic trials and tribulations of Peshwa Bajirao I and Mastani, Bhansali turns the clock back four more centuries and moves to the deserts of erstwhile Rajputana to tell the tale of the fabled queen Padmavati of  Mewar, a creation of poet Malik Muhammed Jayasi. Jayasi’s poem Padmavat was about Delhi Sultan Alauddin Khilji’s conquest of Mewar with Padmini, whose historical existence is disputed, serving as an allegory for Mewar, which was ruled by Ratan Singh. Interestingly, this is not the first time Bhansali is tackling this particular topic, having directed the 2008 stage opera of the same name, though that was based on Frenchman Albert Roussel’s opera, which in turn was based on Jayasi’s work.

The film opens in 13th century Afghanistan, where we are introduced to a savage leader of warriors by the name of Jalaluddin Khilji. Jalal is uncle and soon-to-be father-in-law of an eccentric savage called Alauddin. The Khiljis have barely set off for Delhi that the action moves to a place called Singhal, where Mewar ruler Rawal Ratan Singh is hoping to acquire pearls for his wife. He returns home with another woman instead, the daughter of the ruler of Singhal, a beautiful woman by the name of Padmavati. Stuff happens and Khilji, who is also a sex freak (he is having sex moments before his wedding celebrations), is told of Padmavati’s existence by a soothsayer, who also tells him that if he wishes to rule the world, he should first be in possession of Padmavati. Thus begins the ruthless monster’s quest for the queen of Mewar.

The film has all the trappings of a Sanjay Leela Bhansali production: lavish, intricate sets (designed incredibly by Subrata Chakraborty & Amit Ray), rich costume design and oodles of drama. It’s sad that it lacks a heart and soul, and most importantly, a story. The film might as well have been called Khilji Ka Fitoor or some such thing because he is the character in focus. The romance between Padmavati and Ratan Singh is too bland and far too goody-goody. Not for a moment does it come alive on screen. The VFX by NYVFXwala is shambolic. It lacks finesse and believability. The conversion to 3D, while executed well, is let down by the VFX. Sanchit Balhara’s background score is partly good but also annoying. There is no uniqueness offered to the audience when the score turns to the Khilji Army. Same bloody terrorists waala tunes. Surely there’s other sinister stuff around. And the length of the movie is a literal and figurative pain in the backside. Too long, far too long. 

A huge round of applause for DP Sudeep Chatterjee. His work is fantastic. And it’s not the colours or the movement of his camera but his framing that makes the film a visual delight. The use of water as a reflective surface gives certain scenes a beautiful effect. The action is also well shot. It’s a shame that the VFX really lets Chatterjee down, because what he has achieved is really good.

The film’s lacklustre writing is rescued by its actors. Jim Sarbh plays Malik Kafur, Alauddin’s right-hand man and man slave. Sarbh is creepy and delightful in equal measure. He makes you believe that Kafur loves Alauddin not devotedly but romantically. Aditi Rao Hydari, playing Alauddin’s wife Mehrunissa is just as good. She looks great to begin with and though she is in very few scenes, she dominates all of those, including the ones with Alauddin. It’s almost like she channeled some of Priyanka Chopra’s Kashibai act.

Shahid Kapoor is intense as the rule of Mewar, though his constant chatter about Rajput this and Rajput that does get a bit irritating. In the hands of a lesser actor, Ratan Singh would’ve been a mess given the lack of a character graph, but Shahid gives it his all. And he does well with the slight Marwari touch to his dialogues.

As the villain of this piece, Ranveer Singh owns the film. He is Alauddin Khilji. No other actor could have played the character with the vigour and energy that Ranveer does. He is demented and monstrous in a way that you really start to despise him (though I did agree with a couple of his ideas). You want the bastard to fail, but you want to see him fail, because Ranveer demands your attention, whether it is in the scene where he kills his uncle or in the scene where he peps up his tiring army. Have no doubt about the fact that this film belongs to Ranveer Singh and rightly so. He has given us, after ages, a Bollywood villain to remember.

As the formerly titular character, Deepika Padukone is very good. She has very little dialogue but when you walk out of the theatre, you realise she didn’t need it. It’s all in the eyes and in the body language. She keeps you invested in the film when it gets tedious (which it does) and is absolutely fantastic in the climatic Jauhar sequence.

The writing is uninspiring and insipid. It falls like a House of Cards, pun intended. The material is unable to draw in the audience on its own. You are never able to root for Ratan Singh and Padmavati because you frankly couldn’t care less about their romance. You want to see Khilji, no matter how barbaric he may be. Which may or may not be a compliment, depending on who you are.

Sanjay Leela Bhansali comes up short in the music department if you listen to it in isolation. When it comes to the on-screen visuals, it comes together magically. As a director, Bhansali is unable to do anything new. His love stories have a raw power to them, and Khilji’s obsession with Padmavati is driven by that same power, which comes to nought in regard to Padmavati and Ratan Singh. There is no build up of tension anywhere, which makes one wonder how much of Bhansali’s original vision was compromised by the happenings around the film and the CBFC. It feels like a costume drama. A good one, but a costume drama all the same. And Bhansali is far too talented a filmmaker to create such stuff. Where he excels is his sense of the visual art and when toying with his “muse” Ranveer. His lionising of the Rajputs is a failure because it feels contrived. I’m waiting for him to put out a director’s cut. 

Padmavati/Padmaavat is worth a watch if you’re not in one of the four rioting states and for its actors, especially Ranveer Singh. 7/10.

PS: How the hell can people cheer a scene where women are immolating themselves?!