Devdas: Rum with a view By: Khalid Mohamed
July 14,2002 Devdas Cast: Shah Rukh Khan, Aishwarya Rai, Madhuri Dixit Director: Sanjay Leela Bhansali Rating: ***
This is probably the Best review he has written since the review of Satya...easily one of his best...he has a good cinematic eye...its just his subjectivity sometimes is mind boggling...anyway, I liked this review!
Bingo, here comes the sting-o. An expert at swatting mosquitoes, lighting up period-flavoured cheroots and setting snowy white pillows aflame, he’s a strange-deranged number who desperately needs a night of peaceful slumber. Blumber dumber.
Sorry to report but Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Devdas is more laboured than a labour of love. It is also a wasteful, self-indulgent and eye-shattering exercise in kinky kitsch pitsch. Boasting of extravagant sets which are subconsciously inspired partly by V Shantaram (Jhanak Jhanak.., Navrang) and are certainly copied from Kamal Amrohi’s Pakeezah (the kotha balconies with twirling courtesans, the unstoppable fountains), Bhansali appears to have lost his touch for originality and story-telling aesthetics.
More tinsel than stylish, every decorative element is as obtrusive as a mongoose among snakes — right from the plastic Gulmohar trees to the wrinkle-free, out-of-period costumes (note some shirt collars with buttonholes and mini-ball buttons, ugh). And please, what was Bhansali thinking of while twisting and tweaking Sarat Chandra Chatterjee’s 1918 classic novel into a script that, in effect, seems to be located in the medieval ages? Mughal-e-Sharaab anyone?
Moreover, creepy-crawly chauvinistic references abound, women here long to fall at a man’s feet (“Mujhe tumhare charanon mein jagah de doâ€) and a scorn’d mother curses a feudal household, “May you also suffer the birth of a girl like I did.†Whoa, not said. In addition, the childhood romance between Devdas and his societally-underprivileged Paro is heightened to such a degree that neither appears to have grown up during the decade of their separation. Arrested development what! Holding on to their nostalgia-inducing trinkets, the twosome make a mammoth song-‘n’-dance of their reunion.
As for the heavily-becostumed mother of Devdas, she hogs acres of footage to welcome him back home from London. By the way she wears Gucci white high heels! If she’s Jodhabai, our Dev boy (Shah Rukh Khan) is a veritable Prince Salim. And the dude’s dad (theatre actor Vijay Crishna swathed in suffocating shawls) fumes-‘n’-frets like Emperor Akbar Prithviraj Kapoor. The match between Dev and Paro is doomed. Boom. Injured to the core, Dev asks Paro to forget him, she takes him for his word literally and is hurriedly married off to an elderly zamindar (Expressionless Wonder), who also resides like everyone out here, in one those baroque havelis constructed in Film City, Goregaon.
Next: the vaguely cowardly zero-hero is either treated to intoxicating fluids by his rummy chummy Chunnilal (Jackie Shroff absolutely irritating) or to free boarding-‘n’-lodging by the chweetie pie platonic courtesan Chandramukhi (Madhuri Dixit). Chances are that Sarat Chandra may well rock-‘n’-roll in his heavenly grave on detecting that his memorable creations Paro and Mukhi actually jazz-dance to the blistering beat of Dola re dola re at a Durga pooja festivity no less.
Hello, all is not squandered yet. Of the 19 reels, three or four do make emotional contact. Your heart does reach out to Devdas when he is sincerely apologetic for his weaknesses. Gratifyingly the last 15 minutes or so, comprising the tragic climax are truly moving, making your eyes moist. How you wish Bhansali had achieved more such displays of intimacy instead of futzing around with a mega-budget which could well have bankrolled 10 separate films relevant to our time and age. The sets which resemble a godown for chandeliers, candles, stained glass and crimson curtains can be sadly mistaken for sumptuousness. The majorly flawed screenplay is salted with avoidable quasi-villains, witless vamps and token Bengali words (mishti, sondesh); the dialogue caters to the gallery at times, with those mandatory references to the tawaif ka dil and pimps.
Ismail Durbar’s music is not a patch on his score for Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, while the editor could have been tougher with the self-absorbed director. Why that doleful river barge talk-talk scene a la Amar Prem or a woman unfolding her hair into a water basin a la Meena Pakeezah?
Of the cast, Madhuri Dixit is bankably competent. Looking like a gorgeous dream, Aishwarya Rai is first-rate, tender and tough. Stealing the thunder from La Dixit, this is Ms Rai’s best performance yet. And of course, the infallibly excellent Shah Rukh Khan is the main reason to venture, if at all, into the Bhansali bar. Controlled, concise and commanding, the actor rises way above the helter-skelter script to breathe oxygen into the drop-dead Devdas.
However apart from the three lead performances and stray moments of sense-‘n’- sensibility, Bhansali’s magnum opus-pocus makes you want to hit the bottle and fast out of sheer disappointment. Hic hic hurray? Hardly.

:love:

mas:
Edited By arsh on July 15 2002 at 10:46