Bajirao Mastani - An experience

So yesterday when I left my lab late in the evening, I followed my usual ritual of putting on my mp3 player and stuffing the earphones in my, well, ears. The song it played was Fitoori, a song which was taken from Bajirao Mastani's soundtrack, although not featured in the movie itself. About an hour later, when I walked into my home, the song playing was still Fitoori. At just under 4 minutes long, that is equal to approximately 15 replays. But that is the kind of hold this movie has on me ever since it came out. First the trailer, then that ethereal homage to Mughal-e-azam and Madhubala's pyaar kiya to darna kya magic set in the modern adaptation of the sheesh mahal (Deewani Mastani), followed by the rest of  the music, and finally the film itself. I have always been an ardent admirer of the Sanjay Leela Bhansali school of filmmaking, right from the critically acclaimed Khamoshi, to the much maligned Saawariya, the acclaimed-but-hardly-seen-by-a-single-soul Guzaarish, to his redemption ticket at the box-office Goliyon ki rasleela: Ram-Leela. So naturally I was bound to be excited when the maverick finally came out with his dream project, 12 years in the making. Though the excitement might have been of a more subtle, restrained variety, which comes with age. Especially though, as after the slight disappointment with the unabashed, melodramatic tone of Ram-Leela, this one seemed to signal a return to form for SLB, the director who gave us one of TIME magazine's 10 best films of the millenium, and the best film of that year (2002) worldwide (Devdas). And that is exactly what it turned out to be.

It would be very easy to dismiss this film as just a costume drama, replete with "over-the-top" action sequences, costumes, sets and emotions, as indeed a few reviewers tried to do. SLB is a director reviewers love to hate. Trashing his movies as over the top, melodramatic, all gloss no substance, pretentious etc. provides them the ultimate high, and makes them feel good about themselves. However, for a change, they have been unusually kind and receptive of Bajirao, lavishing it with well- deserved praise in all aspects - world-class production values, set pieces, costumes, cinematography, music, direction and of course, the acting. Even international reviewers, such as the reviewers of the Guardian, and Ms.Saltz of the  NYT, have been very generous with their praise for this magnum-opus, accepting it for what it is - a fine example of old-school Bollywood story-telling, combined with production values at par with any big-ticket Hollywood production. 

Personally, for me the highlight of the film was its most underrated aspect - the music. Universally praised and liked, it hasn't been discussed as much as it needs to be. SLB, who helmed the music for this one completely on his own like his last few ventures, deserves major props for bringing classical music back to mainstream Bollywood. Right from the opening kathak number, "Mohe rang do lal" – another homage to K. Asif and Madhubala's spell-binding "Mohe panghat pe", the classical tone is set for the entire movie. The way this number opens, with the sounds of chirping birds evoking early dawn, you realize you are in for a musical treat. The setting of fountains and the grand old fort serve as the background for Pandit Birju Maharaj's subtle choreography, brought to life by Deepika Padukone's graceful swaying, all of which makes  this number a visual treat as well, and a major reason for why I could see this movie twice within a week in theatres! This is followed by another highlight, the well-known Albela Sajan, sung by a bunch of talented singers in a choir-like manner, a significant feat for a classical song. The colourful song makes you joyously celebrate the triumphant return of the victorious hero from battle. The less said about Deewani Mastani, the better. This is a song which will go down in history, just for the sheer artistry with which it has been conceived – a monochromatic spectacle of brilliant choreography, cinematography, vocals, sets, costume and performances. Shreya Ghoshal returns to top form with this album for the man who unleashed her force in Bollywood with Bairi Piya. The only song I was apprehensive about pre-release was Malhaari. The boisterous number seemed far removed from the sedate world of Maratha Peshwas, and Ranveer Singh’s dancing with animalistic fervour set to Vishal Dadlani’s power-packed vocals did not seem to gel with the times it was set in. But all apprehensions were set aside, as it assimilated beautifully in the movie, a battle cry celebrating the all-conquering war prowess of the Marathas. You almost believe that a peshwa could have danced like that with his soldiers. Same goes with Pinga. Bhansali follows a sort of template in all his films, especially when it comes to music. For instance, there is a customary song about the moon (chand chupa badal mai, woh chand jaisi ladki, yoon shabnami…). So here too, we have a Pinga, built on the same template set by Dola re …. Two women, rivals in love, come together to celebrate their affection for the same man, with one ultimately handing over the reins to the other. A lot of hue and cry was made, open letters written by “activists” seeking their 15 minutes of fame criticizing the concept of making a peshwani bai dance with commoners, and the factual inaccuracy of a Kashibai struggling with arthritis dancing energetically. However it was all forgotten and the song was received favourably, compared incessantly to its predecessor, and the two ladies pitted against each other – with Priyanka Chopra coming up on top more often than not. The two gems on the album, Fitoori and Abb tohe jaane na dungi are inexplicably not included in the film. Listening to the thumris, one can’t help but be hopeful that the videos were shot and will see the light of the day somewhere down the line. The latter has my favorite lyrics from the album:

Ek hai mannat, ek hai dua …

Dono ne ishq ki rooh ko chhua,

Daayein se pad, ya baayein se pad….

Farsh se arsh tak, ishq hai likha

 Aayat, another masterpiece by the omnipresent and overused Arijit Singh, follows the template set by its far superior predecessor Lal Ishq from Ram Leela. Aaj Ibadat, which only plays as the end credits roll out, beautifully brings together Sanskrit hymns with Urdu poetry, and underlines the theme of religious harmony preached by the movie boldly with double lines. In short, though SLB is unlikely to win any awards for music direction, or any of the singers rewarded for bringing his vision to life, they all undoubtedly deserve a thunderous applause for these soulful, classical-based tunes, in my opinion, especially in a year dotted with below average soundtracks. Read this completely to-the-point review of the album in the Hindu.

Both Ranveer Singh and Priyanka Chopra come up with career-defining performances. Unfortunately, it is SLB’s muse, Mastani, who seems to have drawn the short string in the bargain, coming across woefully underwritten and unidimensional as compared to the other two protagonists. Deepika Padukone already had a landmark performance last year with Piku, and here again she gives an earnest performance. It’s the writing which lets her down. Although it is easy to root for Priyanka’s dignified Kashibai, by virtue of her being the simpleton, honest, jilted first wife, it is her incredible performance that steals the show. She proves that you don’t need to fill every frame of the movie to make an impact. Of her limited screen time, it takes her just two scenes to stamp her presence across the movie – the one in which she confronts Mastani and after giving her a piece of her mind, finally accepts her on her own terms, and the much talked about guroor scene, where she shreds into her husband’s infidelity by confronting him with all the dignity and self-respect she can muster. You feel for her when a sick Bajirao mistakes her for Mastani, and not for the lovelorn man on his death bed. You feel Kashibai's anguish through her, so well has she imbibed the character. This is a hundred steps beyond Fashion, Barfi or any other performance of her illustrious career. The entire supporting cast, predominantly Tanvi Azmi, lives up to the expectations one has come to have from a SLB film.
This is only the second film ever that I paid twice to watch in a theatre, the first being Zindagi Milegi Na Dobara. While that one was more or less circumstantial, this time, it was completely voluntarily. And during the second watch, which was barely 2-3 days after the first one, not even once did I feel I that I have just seen it. It retained it's freshness for the most part, except the long-drawn out climax, which frankly, grew a little tiresome in the first watch itself. Even though it is not a flawless film, Bajirao is definitely the finest representative of everything that is good about the Bollywood cliche, has repeat value, and I suspect, and hope, that in absence of any quality opposition in the forseeable future, will have a long run at the theatres, finally reaffiriming SLB's box office credentials after Ram Leela.