This work of art doesn't have the in-your-face flamboyance of "Devdas"
or "Black" where almost every shot reached a crescendo,
every passion peaked like a mid-summer sun, and every movement denoted
drama. But "Saawariya" is Sanjay Leela Bhansali's most
tender ode to love yet.
Taking Fyodor Dostoevsky's minuscule play "White Nights",
Bhansali has built huge but unimposing emotions classified by dollops
of awe-inspiring studio-erected architecture that represents feelings
rather than physical forms.
This is the director's most subtle and mellow creation.
Prakash Kapadia's dialogues let Ranbir's character of Ranbir Raj
speak in a language that is modern and yet timelessly lovelorn.
The plot, if one may call it that, is a story of unrequited love
told in shades of blue. Bhansali's narrative spins its sensuous
web around chance encounters in and around a square set in a timeless
land where clocks chime to the rhythm of a besotted heart and neon
signs straight out of a bright Broadway pay cheeky homage to Bollywood's
past, including Raj Kapoor, of course.
Ranbir Raj sings and performs at a club called Raj's Bar when he
isn't chasing the enigmatic Sakina (Sonam Kapoor) across an arched
bridge that symbolises the end of hope and the beginning of love.
Sakina, if you must know, is on an eternal wait. A stranger (Salman
Khan) walked into her home and life, walked out and promised to
return. The lacuna between longing and fulfilment is filled by a
young man who dances, sings, makes faces, writes love letters, protects
Sakina from the rain, but alas, cannot protect himself from the
heartbreak that awaits him under the bridge.
You can see reflections of Raj Kapoor's persona from "Sri
420" and "Chhalia" in Ranbir's acting in "Saawariya".
And his relationship with his outwardly harsh landlady -- played
by the gloriously spirited Zohra Sehgal -- is a wonderful recreation
of the bond between Raj Kapoor and Lalita Pawar in "Anari".
Ranbir's acting is a dangerously extravagant and bravura performance
that could've toppled over under the weight of the character's inherent
exhibitionism. But with his director's help, Ranbir succeeds.
The emotions that run across the gossamer frames of this fragilely
structured play-on-celluloid are woven with the delicacy that one
associates with Kashmiri carpets.
Ironically, though requiring more attention than all his earlier
works, "Saawariya" is Bhansali's simplest story to date.
The age-old boy-meets-girl format has been taken to the plane of
purest expressionism.
The enchanting encounters shown in the film furnish the slim but
haunting plot with the feeling of a play where the characters forget
they are on stage.
The film's consciously created staginess is its biggest virtue.
It lends an otherworldly quality to the frames. The wispy characters
may or may not exist outside the prostitute-narrator Rani Mukerji's
playful mind.
Maybe she's making up this beautiful tale of one-sided love and
perhaps the boy-man she took under her wings is just a figment of
her imagination.
The disarming delicacy with which art directors Omang and Vinita
Kumar and cinematographer Ravi Chandran have built the blue foundations
of the film's ravishingly romantic imagination lifts Dostoevsky's
play to the sphere of poetry.
Monty Sharma's soul-stirring music adds an entirely new dimension
to the story of waiting and suffering.
As expected from a Bhansali creation, the film is bathed in visuals
that overpower the senses. The sequence where Sonam runs across
a gauntlet of perpendicularly hung carpets beating a dust storm
out of their beautiful fabric is a moment of sensual eruption.
In "Saawariya", Sonam does not know what or whom she
is running from or what she will run into. She is Nutan in "Bandini",
Aishwarya in "Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam" and Waheeda Rehman
in "Pyasa".
"Saawariya" is like a dream where the characters themselves
live in a dream world. Escape from this world is akin to death.
No one dies in Bhansali's majestic make-belief world and nothing
wilts. Not even love when it is taken away from the boy who loves
to entertain the unhappy girl in distress.