Reviewed by: Dare Devil Kid (DDK)
Rating: 1.9/5 stars (0.4 stars solely for Ranveer Singh's performance)
From the first frame, you know you are in a Sanjay Leela Bhansali film. Everything is scaled up, grander than grand. It's all razzle- dazzle, the way only Sanjay Leela Bhansali can turn it on. And then we tear our gaze away from the lush sets and the gorgeously attired actors – Priyanka Chopra as Bajirao's wife Kashibai, Deepika Padukone as the film's eponymous Mastani ( lover, concubine, second wife all rolled into one) and the equally beauteous Ranveer Singh - and demand the very thing we come to the movies for: a story unfolding on screen.
But we chance upon that story only sporadically, in between all the song-and-dances and the set-pieces in the battlefields and the palaces and the sparkling chandeliers, which keeps bringing us back to our original query: Where's the plot point?
Also, distorting history and not getting things perfect is one thing, but when a historical figure, revered and honored as much as the great Maratha Peshwa Bajirao is reduced to a new day Ranbir Kapoor in love, then that doesn't sit right by me, regardless of any number of disclaimers at the start. Thankfully, the film doesn't even pretend to be a faithful document of the events that took place in the early 1700s, when the Maratha Empire was in its ascendancy. The facts, such as they are recorded, are not allowed to weigh heavy upon this pretty edifice. There is some chatter of the "debauched Dilli Darbar" and ambitions for "poora Hindustan"; a few kohled, bearded Mughal invaders show up with their armies, and there a couple of scenes featuring a crafty Nizam. But these are stray mentions, and mere diversions - the real action in "Bajirao Mastani" is in the bedrooms and boudoirs and hallways, between Bajirao and brave Bundalkhandi lass Mastani, with Kashibai valiantly fighting a rearguard action.
It is hard to imagine anyone else as Bajirao after Ranveer finishes chewing up the part and cracking the Marathi accent. He absolutely owns the film with his swagger, strut, passion, diction, bravado, and remarkably restrained emotions - an actor truly enjoying himself in a role. Priyanka's acquiescing wife has a couple of strong moments ( in fact, the only remotely felt sequence in the film belongs to Chopra and Tanvi Azmi - Bajirao's widowed, ambitious mother - as they ponder over the meaning of love and betrayal, and the man they are tied to). Padukone looks lovely as usual but hasn't melded with the part. Her Mastani is all dressed up but the performance is wishy- washy. She starts off smiling oddly through grim dialogues but has the exact same expression boys with lightsabers sport while making their own sound effects. Her Mastani is obsessed with Bajirao, and while it was perhaps the film's requirement that Padukone look giddily entranced, there are times when she appears completely lost. It doesn't help that she's entirely eaten up by Priyanka Chopra, who, while not in the title, holds her own against Ranveer's character with selflessness and dignity. Chopra's terrific in the part, her intelligently expressive eyes speaking volumes and her no-nonsense Marathi rhythm bang-on.
Bhansali, for what it's worth, has gone all out with this one. He's made warrior girls play the banjo; he's made Old Spice salesmen look old; he's created outrageous subtexts about husbands and wives getting each other wet; and he's even saluted world cinema and raised a few red lanterns. But too quickly you tire of all the showiness. The grandiosity wears off. You long for a genuinely moving, exciting story, featuring all these beautiful actors, most of whom are able to pull off characters, but buried under their mounds of clothes. If only he had more to say than the fact that he loves "Mughal-e-Azam".
Rating: 1.9/5 stars (0.4 stars solely for Ranveer Singh's performance)
From the first frame, you know you are in a Sanjay Leela Bhansali film. Everything is scaled up, grander than grand. It's all razzle- dazzle, the way only Sanjay Leela Bhansali can turn it on. And then we tear our gaze away from the lush sets and the gorgeously attired actors – Priyanka Chopra as Bajirao's wife Kashibai, Deepika Padukone as the film's eponymous Mastani ( lover, concubine, second wife all rolled into one) and the equally beauteous Ranveer Singh - and demand the very thing we come to the movies for: a story unfolding on screen.
But we chance upon that story only sporadically, in between all the song-and-dances and the set-pieces in the battlefields and the palaces and the sparkling chandeliers, which keeps bringing us back to our original query: Where's the plot point?
Also, distorting history and not getting things perfect is one thing, but when a historical figure, revered and honored as much as the great Maratha Peshwa Bajirao is reduced to a new day Ranbir Kapoor in love, then that doesn't sit right by me, regardless of any number of disclaimers at the start. Thankfully, the film doesn't even pretend to be a faithful document of the events that took place in the early 1700s, when the Maratha Empire was in its ascendancy. The facts, such as they are recorded, are not allowed to weigh heavy upon this pretty edifice. There is some chatter of the "debauched Dilli Darbar" and ambitions for "poora Hindustan"; a few kohled, bearded Mughal invaders show up with their armies, and there a couple of scenes featuring a crafty Nizam. But these are stray mentions, and mere diversions - the real action in "Bajirao Mastani" is in the bedrooms and boudoirs and hallways, between Bajirao and brave Bundalkhandi lass Mastani, with Kashibai valiantly fighting a rearguard action.
It is hard to imagine anyone else as Bajirao after Ranveer finishes chewing up the part and cracking the Marathi accent. He absolutely owns the film with his swagger, strut, passion, diction, bravado, and remarkably restrained emotions - an actor truly enjoying himself in a role. Priyanka's acquiescing wife has a couple of strong moments ( in fact, the only remotely felt sequence in the film belongs to Chopra and Tanvi Azmi - Bajirao's widowed, ambitious mother - as they ponder over the meaning of love and betrayal, and the man they are tied to). Padukone looks lovely as usual but hasn't melded with the part. Her Mastani is all dressed up but the performance is wishy- washy. She starts off smiling oddly through grim dialogues but has the exact same expression boys with lightsabers sport while making their own sound effects. Her Mastani is obsessed with Bajirao, and while it was perhaps the film's requirement that Padukone look giddily entranced, there are times when she appears completely lost. It doesn't help that she's entirely eaten up by Priyanka Chopra, who, while not in the title, holds her own against Ranveer's character with selflessness and dignity. Chopra's terrific in the part, her intelligently expressive eyes speaking volumes and her no-nonsense Marathi rhythm bang-on.
Bhansali, for what it's worth, has gone all out with this one. He's made warrior girls play the banjo; he's made Old Spice salesmen look old; he's created outrageous subtexts about husbands and wives getting each other wet; and he's even saluted world cinema and raised a few red lanterns. But too quickly you tire of all the showiness. The grandiosity wears off. You long for a genuinely moving, exciting story, featuring all these beautiful actors, most of whom are able to pull off characters, but buried under their mounds of clothes. If only he had more to say than the fact that he loves "Mughal-e-Azam".