Heeramandi || Scene - 01 | Manisha Koirala | Aditi Rao Hydari || Sonakshi Sinha || Netflix 2024
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Genre: Historical dramaCreated By: Sanjay
Genre: Historical drama
Created By: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Written By: Screenplay: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Dialogues: Divya Nidhi
Vibhu Puri
Story By: Moin Baig
Directed By: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Starring: Manisha Koirala
Sonakshi Sinha
Aditi Rao Hydari
Richa Chadha
Sanjeeda Sheikh
Sharmin Segal
Taha Shah Badussha
Music By: Songs: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Background Score: Benedict Taylor
Naren Chandavarkar
Plot: Heeramandi
Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar – his debut as a web series creator – made me miss Vishal Bhardwaj’s Rangoon (2016). Bhardwaj’s film might have been faulty on a few fronts, but it was the last time a mainstream Indian filmmaker was having fun with a British character in a Hindi film. In Bhansali’s eight-episode series – we have two British characters, both high-ranking police officials called Cartwright and Henderson. Their presence is so cursory [their first names barely matter] that they are given no room except to showcase their dastardliness, inflicting violence on the ‘rebels’ or the Urdu language. Unlike in Bhardwaj’s film – where Richard McCabe’s character is seen playing a harmonium in one scene, or how he cheekily says “I’m white, I’m always right!” near the climax. Foreign actors usually get a raw deal in most Indian films/shows. How they’re treated, I’ve realised, is a good metric to assess how introspective the writers’ room is. For Bhansali, whose frames keep drawing attention to what a ‘renaissance man’ he is, it’s a telling detail for how sketchy his writing has been lately.
If his last two projects are to be believed, Bhansali is operating on ideas and outlines. Which might explain that abrupt, simplistic climax for a character as fascinating as Gangubai Kathiawadi, to whom Bhansali does a great disservice by eulogising her with a smug, self-serving dialogue “Gangu came to Mumbai to become a filmstar, but ended up becoming cinema herself.” Even in Heeramandi, the climax witnesses a protest march that never feels convincing despite an allowance made of Bhansali-esque proportions. It’s a beautiful but also conveniently cross-stitched final sequence for a show that never fulfils the promises it makes. Unsurprisingly, most of the faults here have to do with Bhansali’s self-love for his own craft.
I could sense the opportunity Netflix saw in Bhansali’s vision – to bankroll this as one of their prestige TV projects along the lines of The Crown or Downton Abbey. Unfortunately, Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar feels like Bhansali’s ode to Pakistani soap operas. Or that’s what we glean from the show’s central romance between Tajdar (Taha Shah Badussha) and Alamzeb (Sharmin Segal). A lot of the show’s brisk pacing is lost each time Bhansali cuts to this “doomed” love track. Both these actors feel like generic faces one might find in a Mumbai coffee shop, who have been locked up in an Urdu workshop for six weeks before the series went on floors. There’s very little to them personality wise, except for the ‘good looks’.
It’s clear Bhansali prioritises himself as an aesthete over a storyteller these days. The painstaking embroidery on a dupatta, the congruent drapes of the curtains, or even the sheer number of candles in scenes to bounce light off his actors’ perfect jawlines, we could go on. It’s about the moment for Bhansali, rather than having a grip on the bigger picture.
There are three tracks running simultaneously in Heeramandi: the rivalry between the courtesans, fighting for the attention (and the riches) of the noblemen of Lahore in pre-Independence India, the tragic love story between Taj (a high-born, London-returned lawyer) falling in love with Alamzeb (daughter of Heeramandi’s most famous tawaif, Mallikajaan – played by Manisha Koirala), and the ongoing independence struggle that has a fleeting connection to the brothels of Lahore. There’s definite potential here – how the caged figures of Heeramandi played a significant but unacknowledged part in the freedom struggle, and how rebellion of love is similar to rebellion to break the status-quo – which is probably what makes the elders oppose most love stories. Bhansali also asks his characters to choose between mohabbat (love) and watan (nation) – it’s an impossible choice.
Disclaimer: Video is for entertainment purpose only. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, commenting, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.
Created By: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Written By: Screenplay: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Dialogues: Divya Nidhi
Vibhu Puri
Story By: Moin Baig
Directed By: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Starring: Manisha Koirala
Sonakshi Sinha
Aditi Rao Hydari
Richa Chadha
Sanjeeda Sheikh
Sharmin Segal
Taha Shah Badussha
Music By: Songs: Sanjay Leela Bhansali
Background Score: Benedict Taylor
Naren Chandavarkar
Plot: Heeramandi
Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar – his debut as a web series creator – made me miss Vishal Bhardwaj’s Rangoon (2016). Bhardwaj’s film might have been faulty on a few fronts, but it was the last time a mainstream Indian filmmaker was having fun with a British character in a Hindi film. In Bhansali’s eight-episode series – we have two British characters, both high-ranking police officials called Cartwright and Henderson. Their presence is so cursory [their first names barely matter] that they are given no room except to showcase their dastardliness, inflicting violence on the ‘rebels’ or the Urdu language. Unlike in Bhardwaj’s film – where Richard McCabe’s character is seen playing a harmonium in one scene, or how he cheekily says “I’m white, I’m always right!” near the climax. Foreign actors usually get a raw deal in most Indian films/shows. How they’re treated, I’ve realised, is a good metric to assess how introspective the writers’ room is. For Bhansali, whose frames keep drawing attention to what a ‘renaissance man’ he is, it’s a telling detail for how sketchy his writing has been lately.
If his last two projects are to be believed, Bhansali is operating on ideas and outlines. Which might explain that abrupt, simplistic climax for a character as fascinating as Gangubai Kathiawadi, to whom Bhansali does a great disservice by eulogising her with a smug, self-serving dialogue “Gangu came to Mumbai to become a filmstar, but ended up becoming cinema herself.” Even in Heeramandi, the climax witnesses a protest march that never feels convincing despite an allowance made of Bhansali-esque proportions. It’s a beautiful but also conveniently cross-stitched final sequence for a show that never fulfils the promises it makes. Unsurprisingly, most of the faults here have to do with Bhansali’s self-love for his own craft.
I could sense the opportunity Netflix saw in Bhansali’s vision – to bankroll this as one of their prestige TV projects along the lines of The Crown or Downton Abbey. Unfortunately, Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar feels like Bhansali’s ode to Pakistani soap operas. Or that’s what we glean from the show’s central romance between Tajdar (Taha Shah Badussha) and Alamzeb (Sharmin Segal). A lot of the show’s brisk pacing is lost each time Bhansali cuts to this “doomed” love track. Both these actors feel like generic faces one might find in a Mumbai coffee shop, who have been locked up in an Urdu workshop for six weeks before the series went on floors. There’s very little to them personality wise, except for the ‘good looks’.
It’s clear Bhansali prioritises himself as an aesthete over a storyteller these days. The painstaking embroidery on a dupatta, the congruent drapes of the curtains, or even the sheer number of candles in scenes to bounce light off his actors’ perfect jawlines, we could go on. It’s about the moment for Bhansali, rather than having a grip on the bigger picture.
There are three tracks running simultaneously in Heeramandi: the rivalry between the courtesans, fighting for the attention (and the riches) of the noblemen of Lahore in pre-Independence India, the tragic love story between Taj (a high-born, London-returned lawyer) falling in love with Alamzeb (daughter of Heeramandi’s most famous tawaif, Mallikajaan – played by Manisha Koirala), and the ongoing independence struggle that has a fleeting connection to the brothels of Lahore. There’s definite potential here – how the caged figures of Heeramandi played a significant but unacknowledged part in the freedom struggle, and how rebellion of love is similar to rebellion to break the status-quo – which is probably what makes the elders oppose most love stories. Bhansali also asks his characters to choose between mohabbat (love) and watan (nation) – it’s an impossible choice.
Disclaimer: Video is for entertainment purpose only. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, commenting, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.
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