 "Actors Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone perform during the promotion of their upcoming fim Bajirao Mastani in Lucknow")
For what it is — a costly, action-packed, period drama with a cast of popular actors — Bajirao Mastani is not bad at all. Sanjay Leela Bhansali tells a story from a part of Indian history that is not widely known, drawing from the romance of a Maratha warrior and a Muslim princess. An exhaustive disclaimer precedes the film, however, freeing its indulgent makers from allegiance to accuracy, while still outlining their research efforts. The concoction of fact and fable that unfolds thereafter is colossally palatable.
There is nothing understated about this venture, right from the opening credits that play out like a motion comic. The budget of Rs 120 crore — the price of a modest bungalow in Mumbai or two fat Kerala weddings — is perceptible in every painstaking frame. As is the fact that this idea spent roughly a decade in Bhansali and writer Prakash Kapadia’s ruminations. The film initially hijacks attention with a high-octane soundtrack and searing scenes of war. At this point, an empire of merchandising possibilities becomes apparent — action figures of Bajirao and Mastani, turbans, shields, helmets. But this fades as the story progresses to a space where forbidden love and insecurities gain precedence.
Set in the early 1700s, this is the tale of Bajirao I (Ranveer Singh), the prime minister of the Maratha king’s court and a warrior with an unbeaten track record. Although happily married to Kashibai (Priyanka Chopra), he falls in love with Mastani Begum (Deepika Padukone), the daughter of a Rajput king and a Muslim mother, after she seeks his help in battle. Here onwards, the film follows Bajirao’s struggles to give Mastani the status of his second wife, going against the wishes of an upset mother and brother. While acknowledging that he spent most of his life exhibiting speedy combat techniques on the battlefield, the narrative focuses on his domestic wars.
In the film’s slow-motion sequences, long skirts swivel hypnotically, braids wave like flags and flags ripple like rivers. Various on-screen characters worry that Bajirao’s coffers are nowhere near full but there appears to be no cost-cutting. New wadas are raised, one more opulent that the other, equipped with mirror chambers and ponds. But one does not mind playing along. The attention to detail and harmony of colours result in frames that are as pleasing to the eye as most scenes in Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s The Assassin (2015). Where the Taiwanese product was unhurried and meditative, Bhansali’s film is loud, rapid and at times borders on campy.
Much of the film is banter, where characters trade avowals and rebukes crafted in royalese. There are several lines that will likely elicit whistles; for instance, “Aandhi roke toh hum toofan, toofan roke toh aag ka dariya (Should whirlwinds stop us, we will be a tempest. Should a tempest stop us, we will turn into rivers of fire).” To the credit of the writer, the smatterings of Marathi blend into a predominantly-Hindi narrative without forming lumps. The film also avoids nuanced references to Maratha culture and taps into universal ideas of vengeance and religious animosity.
The songs, which span nearly 30 minutes, could have been curtailed. The track “Malhari”, a celebratory jig with Singh and his battalion stomping and shimmying, is especially avoidable. In Brechtian fashion, during this song the dancers look directly at an aerial camera, shaking viewers out of their fantasy.
Words must be spent in praise of Singh who has the stance and gait of a mature Akhal-Teke stallion. When his Bajirao climbs on the back of a fellow soldier and lands on the head of an elephant to slit the enemy’s throat, it is somehow convincing. Equally convincing are his dialogues delivered with a hint of Marathi influence. Padukone is impressive as a self-assured woman of war-worthy beauty. Her large eyes well up on command like that of anime characters. Chopra shines when her character icily confronts her husband and his new lover. The support cast puts its best foot forward too.
Bhansali’s canvas and its heroes are larger-than-life. Their successes and failings are massive. They are equal parts fiery and vulnerable. Bajirao, who destroys rival troops single-handedly, also falls hard, laughing hysterically and displaying feverish madness. As a melodrama, Bajirao Mastani really works and brings a redeeming close to the year for Big Bollywood.
