I admit it, your hat is better than mine.
Reviewing foreign films is always a chancy practice, as I do not have an in-depth appreciation of the culture in which the film was developed. So reviewing Padmaavat (2018), an Indian film, has filled me with some hesitancy.
Padmaavat, set in 1303 and based on an epic allegorical poem, is superficially concerned with the lust burning in the heart of the newly crowed and insane Sultan Allaudin of Delhi for the woman reputed to be the most beautiful in the world, Padmaavati, Queen of Chittor, a kingdom independent of India. Allaudin has seized the seat of the Sultan from his uncle, who he lured to a city Allaudin has captured in the soon-to-be-late Sultan’s name, and there, killed.
His opponents will be the King and second Queen of Chittor, Ratan Singh and Padmaavati, respectively, who meet in the customary manner when he visits her father’s kingdom: she shoots him with a bow and arrow while hunting. His heart thus ensorcelled, they are soon married.
When Allaudin learns of Padmaavati and her famed beauty, he and the recently exiled and embittered guru of Chittor plot how Allaudin may meet and take the queen. For six months, they besiege Chittor Fort to little effect, but as provisions run low for those in the Fort, and the besiegers themselves, encamped in the Indian heat, grow faint, the invader hits upon a new stratagem: to use Indian custom to invite himself into the Fort for a religious festival. Once there, he glimpses the Queen, barely enough to discern her eyes, but that’s enough to inflame his foolhardiness. He invites Ratan to his camp as a return courtesy, and accepts when Ratan requires the besieging army to vacate the area.
In the midst of the dust storm which arises the next day, Ratan is captured by Allaudin, and a message sent to Padmaavati: come to Delhi, or lose Ratan. Padmaavati is no fool, and sets her own conditions: Before Allaudin shall see her, she shall see Ratan and see him free, she will bring 400 handmaidens with her, and she demands the head of the exiled guru, the last of which amuses all in Allaudin’s court – until Allaudin assents to all the demands. Padmaavati’s next communication with Allaudin is the severed head of the guru.
Once in Delhi, Padmaavati engineers a daring escape from Allaudin, freshly injured by an usurpation attempt, but their failure to kill Allaudin results in a new besiegement of Chittor Fort. Ratan falls in one-on-one combat with Allaudin, and Chittor Fort falls to improved technology and superior manpower. But before Allaudin can capture Padmaavati, much less even glimpse her, she, and all the ladies of the royal household, commit self-immolation, thus denying Allaudin his prize.
For me, the most important part of the story is how Allaudin comes to ignore every law and rule and custom of civilization in his insane urge to satisfy his desires. From his wife, a sadly undeveloped role, who he wins from his uncle through rapine, to the seat of his uncle himself, to the use of an entire army to destroy a fort and a people just to slake a lust conceived with little reason, except, perhaps, that having satisfied all his more tangible lusts, now he needs new ones. He is a man dedicated to himself, and only to himself.
But his contrast also suffers a bitter fate, for twice Ratan has the chance to destroy his enemy, and twice does not. Once, as a guest in his own home, it certainly makes sense to follow custom and not kill that guest for little reason, for if one develops a reputation for extinguishing unarmed guests, you’re marked as a barbarian. But his second opportunity, just released from Allaudin’s prison, is refused because Allaudin is badly wounded from an attempted assassination. Ratan believes it’s bad form to take advantage of Allaudin, although I suspect pride and rage have something to do with it as well. In any case, his adherence to custom results in the deaths of himself, his Queen, his army, and his people. It’s an implicit question of just what one should do with the person who believes the rules do not apply to themselves, and attracts a lot of support through his charisma – a question relevant to both India and the United States.
As a movie, it’s a lush, sensual movie, filmed to a high standard: excellent acting, stages (or at least it does not appear to be filmed on location), authentic clothing, a story which kept us in its grip. A few roles could have been fleshed out better, but there is a limit on how far that can go, and the principle roles are very well done indeed, from upright Ratan, enraged Padmaavati, to the outright insane Sultan Allaudin of Delhi.
If you have a taste for long, foreign films, this is a great choice, even if the ending is a downer for Americans.
Recommended.
