Sanjay Leela Bhansali has become synonymous with extravagant and lavish settings and his latest Netflix original TV series Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar is no exception to his signature filmmaking style that favors the extravagant, the glitzy and greatness, except in this case, has superseded characters. and script There are dazzling diamonds, ornate buildings, intricately designed sets, regal antiques, but no coherent ideas, well-defined characters, and an engaging story.
The eight-episode show starring the likes of Manisha Koirala, Sonakshi Sinha, Aditi Rao Hydari, Sanjeeda Sheikh, Sharmin Segal, Adhyayan Suman and Fardeen Khan is a story of powerful tawaifs (courtesans) of pre-independence Lahore when the El the pleasure district was not just a luxury brothel, but a melting pot of arts and culture where the elite went to learn etiquette and refinement. These spaces served as a school to polish nawab behavior, and Bhansali's Heeramandi manages to capture the social reality and emotional turmoil of these women.
In their version of the elite red light zone, you will meet tawaifs of all kinds: manipulative, cunning, benevolent, heartbroken, delusional, sly, vengeful, poetic and even rebellious. Although each tawaif has a distinct personality and a tragic story of its own, what is common among these revolving women is the misery of being confined to the “golden cage” of a life, desired by the so-called nobles of society and ridiculed hypocritically in public. Even the most powerful of these women have an emptiness inside and believe that “only death can set them free,” including Koirala's protagonist Mallikajaan, the most influential of them all, who owns an opulent brothel called Shahi Mahal (royal palace).
Manisha Koirala plays a powerful tawaif who owns a lavish brothel in Heeramandi
Mallikajan is perpetually intoxicated and won't shy away from selling you out in the blink of an eye to recoup the price of a small pearl. He has the Nawabs under his thumbs, is not afraid of the British and has immense political sway. Every time Koirala appears on screen, she brings a sense of unease and unpredictability that keeps viewers on edge. Although at first, his character may seem like Gangubai Kathiawadi, Mallikajaan is not even half good-hearted and has the shame of being a jerk.
While his 'empire' seems infallible, things take an interesting turn when his equally powerful and cunning niece Fareedan (Sonakshi Sinha), who was sold by Mallika at the age of nine, returns to Heeramandi with nothing else to take revenge With hot-headed and complex characters trying to raze each other to the ground, the show sets up a powerful showdown between the two formidable women.
Numerous other story arcs run in parallel: a brothel-born Alamzeb (Sharmin Segal) wants to become a poet instead of a courtesan, the talented Bibbojaan (Aditi Rao Hydari) secretly works with the rebels who fight against the British Raj, an opium addict Lajjo. (Richa Chadha) has fallen irrevocably in love with a scoundrel of a nawab, a nawab back in London named Tajdar (Taha Shah Badussha) hates Heeramandi but ends up falling in love with a tawaif, the vengeful Waheedajaan (Sanjeeda Sheikh) wants to become a huzoor, and the feisty Shama (Pratibha Ranta) is raising her voice against her mother, who is jealous of her youth and beauty.
Sharmin Segal plays a tawaif's daughter who wants to become a poet instead of a courtesan Heeramandi
Even with so many overlapping characters, on paper the script is strong and impactful, with the potential to have follow-up seasons. Unlike the usual commercial cinema, there are no black and white characters; even the villains are shown in a gray light with various gradients of human emotions. The darker characters are dissected to such an extent that a glance at the bits of emotion they left long ago is warranted. There is one scene in particular in which Sinha's Fareedan sticks a needle in the nose of an otherwise outspoken Ustaad Ji (Indresh Malik), Heeramandi's homosexual pimp, followed by silence and a tsunami of emotions on his face. The scene is powerful, compelling and conveys a lot without words.
Similarly, there is a heartfelt conversation between two mandi maids in which they mock their initial dreams of becoming the greatest tawaif. The way even the tiniest of these nuances in the supporting characters have been portrayed is impressive.
Because of this, even the stark contrast between the colorful and bejeweled courtrooms of the tawaifs and the torturous atrocities of the British outside their luxurious walls is fascinating. While there are slogans of the Quit India movement echoing outside, the nawabs are busy reveling within the confines of these royal brothels, which incidentally house a few patriotic tawaifs who have been instrumental in fight for freedom
While these courtesans may not have been able to engrave their role in the movement into the pages of selective history, the show has covered the aspect in detail. How some tawaifs would subtly or seductively extract crucial information from the nawabs, or sometimes help the rebels hide ammunition, has been explained through Hydari's Bibbojaan, who has again done a fabulous job.
Sanjeeda Sheikh in a Heeramandi still
However, what is sad is that Bhansali seems to have found it difficult to properly adapt the script for the screens. Of course, we don't mean the larger-than-life ensembles; full notes there. But while it would have been an excellent book, the series won't keep you hooked or wanting more.
Considering Bhansali has been sitting on the idea for over a decade, the results are not up to par. There are a few immensely powerful scenes and moving dialogue scattered here and there, but the show is somehow unable to sustain that momentum, with equally lethargic and overstretched filler in between. The show would have been better without some unnecessary sequences.
Heeramandi also struggles with pacing, especially towards the end. While the ending is powerful in its own right, the transition from episode seven to episode eight is sudden, abrupt, and feels like a rush job. The performances are also mixed. Bhansali's choice to cast his niece Sharmin Segal as Mallikajaan's youngest daughter Alamzeb, a poet at heart, ends up hurting the show. How can anyone destroy such a beautifully written character? There are scenes where instead of a dreamy woman in love, Segal comes across as a human lost on drugs. Even her chemistry with Tajdar feels unnatural and forced. The casting choice, which reeks of nepotism, ends up destroying one of the main characters of the series.
Fardeen Khan plays a nawab with little screen time and only a few dialogues
Richa Chadha also comes across as a wrong fit for Lajjo. Perhaps the fault here is not Chadha, who has tried hard to slip into the role of a woman in love who has lost her wits due to her lover's betrayal, rather her typecasting as Bholi Punjaban by Fukrey. Those familiar with Chadha's previous work might find it hard to see her so broken and helpless.
Aditi Rao Hydari's Bibbojaan is a poised courtesan who helps the rebels in their fight against the British Raj.
However, one character that left an indelible impact on me was Sanjeeda Sheikh's Waheeda. A special shout out to Sheikh for doing a splendid job playing Mallikajaan's emotionally scarred younger sister. His expressions, body language, dialogue delivery, everything is top notch. She carries the rawness of wounded femininity so aptly. For some reason, I really didn't expect such a good performance from Sheikh, who has outdone herself this time. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that his twisted character could easily spawn his own spin-off.
With so many power-packed performances spread throughout the show, it's sad to see the overall tone dip several times. A sharper version of the program with cleaner edits would have done the trick for me. Full marks on production design and message, but Heeramandi fails to sustain its extravagance beyond the surface.
All eight episodes of Heeramandi are now available to stream on Netflix.
Rating: 5.5/10
