Padmaavat
(2018): Written by Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Prakash
Kapadia, directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali.
Starring: Deepika Padukone,
Shahid Kapoor, and Ranveer Singh. Running Time: 163 minutes. Based on the epic poem Padmavat, by Malik Muhammad Jayasi.
Rating:
3/4
**this
review contains some spoilers for the plot of the film**
Padmaavat is the sort of sprawling, epic
movie that used to be regular fare for Old Hollywood, but nowadays just doesn’t
get made anymore. It fills every shot
with sumptuous color and detail, feels seeped in real fantasy world of its own
making, and you can practically see every stitch in its meticulous, intricate costumes. The acting style is operatic and grand, with
big gestures and overwrought emotions.
That the film is a remarkable technical accomplishment and provides a
unique cinematic spectacle is beyond debate.
Whether or not the substance of the film is worth it- and whether or not
these characters belong in the 21st century- is a bit harder to
place, and will come down mostly on how target audiences (especially in India)
respond to it.
Adapted
from the epic poem of the same name, originally written in the 16th
century, the story centers around a young Sinhala princess, Padmavati, and the
dueling passions she inspires in two powerful kings. One, the cruel and greedy Alauddin, helps his
uncle seize the Sultanate in Delhi before murdering him and taking the crown
himself. The other, the more principled
Ratan Singh, is the Rajput king of nearby Mewar. Ratan Singh and Padmavati meet in her home
country as Ratan Singh is on a mission to find rare pearls, and they quickly
fall in love.
The
conflict between the two is sparked when Ratan Singh expels his head priest,
Raghav Chetan, after he discovers him spying on the couple out of lust for
Padmavati. Furious, the priest travels
to Alauddin’s court, telling him tales of the mystic beauty of Padmavati, and
promising him that if he could make Padmavati his wife, he would soon conquer
the world. Alauddin marches forth with
his army and lay siege to Mewar, demanding to see Padmavati and promising dire
consequences on the entire kingdom if they defy him.
This
movie ended up becoming (purportedly) the most expensive production in India to
date, and it shows. This is a lavish
feast for the eyes from the first shot to the last, with the visuals at their
most stunning during the films music-and-dance sequences. Consider two with particular thematic
resonance; Padmavat’s first dance before Ratan Sing, and Alauddin dancing with his men to express his overwhelming desire for a woman he’s never even seen. Padmavat’s dance is smooth, choreographed,
both sensual and gentle, filled with graceful movements and lush, arm
colors. Alauddin’s is a mix of cold,
almost freezing blues and grays, with harsher, more desperate (and even
animalistic) movements, reflecting the more destructive and controlling nature
of his desire.
In
fact, while the whole cast is solid, Ranveer Singh as Alauddin is the one who
shines the most as an enthusiastically sadistic villain. It’s a scenery-chewer of a performance in the
classic sense of the word, very nearly matched by Jim Sarbh as Malik, Alauddin’s
second-in-command, who is so clearly SUPER gay for his boss it’s actually a little
heartbreaking at times. It’s interesting
to note that he’s actually the only male character in the entire movie who’s
completely clean-shaven, even in the middle of the desert, possibly meant to
emphasis his (probable) homosexuality.
The
movie feels at first like it could end up being a sausage-fest; Padmavat is
revealed in her first scene to be a spectacular hunter and archer, but these
skills never really come back into play, and she seems to fade into the
background at first as a mere object of desire.
However, when Alauddin tricks Ratan and imprisons him, the women step
forward and take charge of a drastic effort to free him, and the result is one
of the film’s highlights. Alauddin’s
first wife, who was opposed to his pursuit of Padmavat from the beginning,
makes a key choice here that provides her and Padmavat with a moment that, for
me, was one of the film’s most meaningful.
It
was this second part of the movie that, in my view, provided the film with some
much-needed thematic shading. Ratan
Singh makes much of his moral principles, and he is clearly presented as the
completely wise and virtuous counterpart to Alauddin, but in true Greek Tragedy
fashion, I couldn’t help but feel that that which was supposed to raise him
above other men is what actually leads to everything bad that happens to him
and his people. He gets several chances to
just kill either the priest or Alauddin, and if he had taken a single one of
them, all the terrible stuff that follows would never have happened, and
perhaps that alone is one of the intended messages of the story.
But
we’re getting into controversy territory here, so with this, I think, it’s just
about time for the disclaimer; I am a white, Western, Christian male, so my
right/ability to judge whether or not the film is….
-sexist/patriarchal
-morally backwards
-insulting or demeaning to Indians,
Hindus, or Muslims
-a faithful adaptation of a classical
Hindu text (or not)
-OR whether or not this story or these
characters are/should be culturally relevant to India today
…..is just about nonexistent. It’s not my place to decide what this film
means or should mean to India today. But
that’s not to say others haven’t been more than willing to take up the debate
in violent ways. A number of radical
groups in India- most notably a Rajput group called Karni Sena- have repeatedly
sent death threats to the director and many in the cast, have threatened to cut
off the nose of the lead actress, and even attacked sets and attempted to
destroy props, costumes, and the like.
Most recently, a bus full of schoolchildren was attacked on a highway,
allegedly in protest of the film (although Karni Sena itself denies
involvement). Reactions from local
governments have been mixed, at best, and pushes continue for the government to
either ban the film outright or severely restrict its distribution.
As
I said before, I have no place to comment on how Indians should or should not
handle this film and this story in general, but I do think that the idea of a
film being worth hurting people over is something a tad more universal, since
this sort of thing has happened over and over again throughout the world and is
in no way limited to Indian or Hindu culture.
So, at the risk of overstepping my bounds as a Western film critic (and
please, PLEASE let me know in the comments if I do), I would like to conclude
this review by saying the following-
The
right to tell or adapt whatever story you want- to have whatever ideological
underpinnings or messages or characters you want- is fundamental, no matter how
backwards or reprehensible I or other viewers may find them. NO movie, no matter how heinous, justifies
violence. No movie should be
banned. If the movie is reprehensible,
let it be demonstrated through audiences choosing to spend their time and money
on other, better films, not because it was arbitrarily pulled from theaters
over how people might react.
If
the consensus on this movie amongst audiences (Indian or otherwise) ends up
being that it pushes an outdated, destructive form of patriarchy, that it’s
unduly sexist or anti-Muslim, that it’s a lot of money and effort spent on the
wrong character or the wrong story, it needs to be because people sat down,
watched the movie from start to finish, and then thought about and debated it,
and NOT because some reactionary, sword-wielding lunatics mutilated the
filmmakers and terrorized a bus full of kids.
-Noah Franc
No comments:
Post a Comment