Director: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Rating: 1.5 Stars (Out of 5)
Much ado about much ado.
The creation and eventual release of Padmaavat may well make for a more dramatic and impassioned tale than the film itself. The offscreen narrative is complete with death threats, bounties on noses, altered spelling, digitally clothed bellies, and, as I've written about before, politically shielded psychopaths encouraged by the media. What spectacle dare compete with a country gone bonkers?
Not that this film doesn't try. Director Sanjay Leela Bhansali, a man well versed with excess, lays it on thick to the point of being tiresome. This is an all-out assault on the senses, a circuitous take on an old legend that is now being flogged to breaking point. Based rather loosely on the epic poem of the same name by Malik Muhammad Jayasi, here we have a king and his lovely queen, interrupted by a barbarian who, on hearing that the queen is pretty, lays siege to their city. As you may probably be aware, all of this ends in a climax that, as the kids now say, is lit.
The film's cardboard nature is exemplified by Shahid Kapoor, who plays Rajput king Ratan Singh, meant to be the unyielding moral core of the story. Kapoor struts around with that particular stiffness of a man sucking his stomach in, with his mouth forever in a soured pucker, lips seemingly sucking at invisible coconuts through imaginary straws. A man who believes pigheadedly in archaic codes of honour, this character holds no appeal.
Yet he lands a Sinhalese warrior queen. Padmavati, played by Deepika Padukone, doesn't need cupid to shoot down her lover. She does this herself, and then chooses to confront him, hostile and coquettish in turns. For some reason, this striking woman takes a fancy to the insipid Ratan Singh, but so be it. She knows her mind. She also steps up when her kingdom needs someone at the helm. This striking woman, in fact, shows us strength and fortitude throughout this slow-moving film, right up until the end when she makes a demand of her king: she asks for his permission to kill herself.
The reason she must do this is because she fears contact with Alauddin Khilji, the wily king from the history books who is depicted here as a merciless savage. In the name of extreme villainy, Ranveer Singh plays him without consistency or caution: he giggles, he grunts, he breaks into Amitabh Bachchan's dastardly laugh from Aks, he wrestles with men not allowed to beat him, and he dances like a goblin. He wins at chess and also, at one point, snuffs out a man's life using his formidable armpit. It is a loud and overblown performance, only occasionally rescued by Singh's natural screen presence. This Khilji amuses - primarily because he jolts the film out of its stupor - but he makes little sense. He is The Great Unwashed. He stinks but he knows things.
Bhansali's last film, Bajirao Mastani, was an undeniably compelling one - here's my review - and while that, too, felt overlong, it was a dramatic film with a heavily plotted storyline that featured many a conflict.
The problem lies not in Padmaavat being a costume drama, but in the fact that there is too much costume, too little drama. In the film's opening scene, we see a king chewing roughly on a piece of poultry. This is a surprisingly small, tandoori-sized handful of bird, nothing compared to the way we have, in international film and television, watched vikings gnaw at giant animal legs the size of motorcycles. Therein lies the problem. There's not nearly enough meat.