Padmavati trailer: The king, the mad man and I
One of most
anticipated films this year is director Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s magnum opus
Padmavati, starring Shahid Kapoor, Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone. The
trailer of this big budget period drama released this afternoon and I couldn’t help
but wonder what the purpose of making this movie was, apart from of course
cashing in on the off-screen interest in Ranveer and Deepika, and the obvious
good looks and acting talent of Shahid.
The trailer
begins with long and extra long shots of rolling hills and forts, taking us
away from the grime of city life into the lamp lit beauty of Rajasthan, illuminated
further by the undeniably stunning Deepika Padukone. We meet Padmavati and King
Rawal Ratan Singh (Shahid Kapoor) possibly at their wedding, or during their
arrival to his palace post their nuptuals. It then introduces us to Allauddin
Khilji (Ranveeer Singh) shaking his long locks off and acting like Bajirao on
crack for the rest of the trailer. He has clearly taken his role of the
seemingly hedonistic despot very seriously, eating a piece of meat almost
sexually, and at one point admiring his multiple reflections and blowing
himself a kiss. It’s also something you can quite expect the actor to do off
screen as well, given his rather over the top personality.
However, I
found the trailer problematic on several levels. For starters, there is no
passion, romance or intimacy of any kind between the characters. Shahid and
Deepika smile politely, or bond formally over what seems to be a constant need
for repair or installation of his head gear. This movie is about a woman who is
perhaps the closest Indian equivalent to the Helen of Troy. The queen whose
beauty caused wars and led ultimately to her own unfortunate death. Considering
the dramatic narrative, you would expect a more passionate teaser, perhaps a
sprinkling of lust, a hint of love, but the trailer looks like a great music
video that leaves you cold. This is possibly to appease political outfits who vandalized
the film’s sets and have threatened further violence before its release. The
sets, armies and war paraphernalia looks recycled, and there is absolutely no
context established about what we are watching, or how these three characters are
connected to each other.
For a film
titled Padmavati, the trailer devotes much more time establishing the two men
battling for her, the husband and the amorous foreigner. The two men sway and
prance, go topless, and brandish their oiled and bronzed masculinity with fervor.
Deepika ends up gazing, pondering, carrying a token Trishul to evoke the rather
exhausted Durga symbolism, but concludes the trailer by talking about Rajputi
kangans (bangles) having as much valour as Rajputi swords.
But clearly
the hand that wears the kangan does not wield the sword. So, she sows her
husband’s turban, and he wields a sword to defend her honour.
As the
background score thunders, Padmavati is the rani sa, the aan, baan and Rajputi
shaan (pride and honour), draped head to toe in traditional clothing and
jewellery, her covered head keeping the honour of her kingdom intact. While it
remains to be seen if the film stays completely true to the original story, and
she actually leads the women of the kingdom into a mass self-immolation, Bhansali’s
choice of subject is troubling.
Padmavati’s
trailer also brings up problematic issues of caste, religion; and as a feminist
scholar rightly put it, it places a community’s honour in a woman’s vagina. The
trailer mentions the Rajput honor several times, and typecasts the Muslim
opponents as a savage army of rapists. The
women in the original tale, committed Jauhar or self-immolation, because once
the castle walls were breached, it meant either a painful death, or horrific
sexual abuse. Perhaps historically, the women in the era did have no choice but
suicide to avoid sexual slavery and gang rape, but in a day and age when we are
encouraging rape victims to fight for justice, why make a film about women choosing
death because patriarchy rendered them being defenseless? Why choose to glorify
war and battle fields where men fought over a woman, but did nothing to empower
her to fight for her safety and self-determination? Glamourising Allaundin
Khilji who fought a war to acquire a beautiful woman as his trophy, a queen who
chillingly accepted being burnt alive to save the perceived honour of her caste
and community, or a husband who allowed this mass suicide to occur is both
irresponsible and dangerous.
Death and
impossible love stories in grandiose settings seems to be the director’s pet
formula, and sadly it has worked so far. But one sincerely hopes that he chooses
to someday make cinema that is less about the sets, more about soulful
storytelling, and never defensive of patriarchy or misogyny.
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