Review: The ‘True’ Story of Padmaavat

Himali Thakur, Class of 2019

Padmaavat has been embroiled in a very public controversy for nearly a year now. Several groups, including the right-wing Karni Sena, claimed that it hurt the sentiments of the Rajputs: the movie was an inaccurate and damaging portrayal of Rani Padmavati, the protagonist of Bhansali’s film. From threats to the movie’s cast to the stoning of a school bus in Gurgaon, Padmaavat managed to create quite a stir before its release. With the movie’s controversy getting so much attention, I was curious to watch Padmaavat. It would be interesting to see just what it was about the politics of this movie that managed to spark off such a response.

Bhansali’s love for grandeur simply explodes in Padmaavat. The sets and the costumes dazzle every moment. The sequence for the track “Ghoomar” has beautiful shots. In one shot, the camera hovers above the dancers as they spin; the lehengas spread out and look like blooming flowers. Another scene that leaves an impression is the final sequence, where Padmavati commits jauhar (self-immolation); Deepika Padukone’s grace in this scene gave me goosebumps. Ranveer Singh completely immerses himself in his role of Alauddin Khalji to give a performance that is probably the highlight of the movie.

However, that is the only praise that the movie can evoke. Padmaavat does not have a compelling plot. Instead, it feels like a string of events that just happen one after the other. While coherent plot lines have not been Bhansali’s strongest suit (case in point: Bajirao Mastani), I have enjoyed his movies for their sheer scale. With Padmaavat, the impact of the visuals is ruined by the fact that too many of the scenes are set using poorly executed CGI. Further, with the mammoth budget for which the movie was produced, I had hoped for some spectacular battle sequences. Instead, what we have are, again, poorly done CGI shots of only one battle.

Although Ranveer Singh is successful as a comic Alauddin Khalji, his character becomes predictable even before the halfway mark of the movie. In fact, Singh’s Khalji is no different from the loud, abrasive comic character that he usually plays; this character’s script could’ve been copy-pasted from Goliyon ki Rasleela Ram-Leela. The politics of representation aside, Alauddin Khalji’s ‘debauch barbarian’ does not evoke as much disgust and horror (as I think he was supposed to) as he does exasperation. Khalji’s insistence on cracking jokes and dancing around like a clown wore my patience down to the bone. He has so much screen time that instead of Padmaavat, the movie should have been called Alauddin Khalji because we see more of him than any other character.

Shahid Kapoor and Deepika Padukone fulfil their roles as Rawal Rattan Singh and Rani Padmavati with their usual professionalism. Unfortunately, their efforts are almost negated by Jim Sarbh, who plays Khalji’s general Malik Khafur. Even some of Khafur’s serious dialogues become hilarious because Sarbh does not take his character seriously. Khafur’s supposed ‘homosexuality’ just makes things worse. His every appearance on screen is cringe-worthy. No person — straight, gay, bisexual, or any sexuality under the sun—really behaves as desperately as Malik Khafur in Padmaavat.

I could go on about the annoying components that make up the entirety of Padmaavat. For instance, in costume design, Khalji’s gold-studded boots looked out of place for the thirteenth-century feel of the movie; there was a problematic glorification of Padmavati’s self-immolation; Rawal Rattan Singh’s insistence on a stubborn sense of “honour” made me face-palm nearly every time he was on screen.

Those cinema sins are compounded by the very thing the movie received so much attention for: representation. The outrage that spread across a few states, causing some theatres to initially back out from screening the movie, was because the movie was claimed to be a dishonourable portrayal of Rani Padmavati and the Rajput clans in general. It is true that film has a Manichean portrayal of its characters, but it is also true that this representation is highly biased in favour of the Rajput clans. Rawal Rattan Singh and the entire population of Chittor are the ‘civilised’ and overly ‘honourable’ lot, while Alauddin Khalji and his band of followers are nothing more than ‘hooligans’ who control half a subcontinent with nothing but a lot of underhand tricks. When the trailers first came out, people did pick up on the movie’s attempt to paint Khalji as a completely maddened barbarian — a debauch with no redeeming qualities. And, unfortunately, that is precisely what the movie continues to do; it gives a one-sided view of the entire Khalji clan.

On Friday, the Shri Rajput Karni Sena withdrew its allegations against Padmaavat and declared that the movie actually glorifies Rajput valour. They decided to facilitate screenings of the movie in Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh, among other states. After such an exhausting debacle, perhaps Padmaavat does tell us one thing: it reminds us who is allowed to cry out “misrepresentation” in our country.

Verdict: 1/5