‘Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar’ Netflix Series Review - A Stodgy Misfire From Sanjay Leela Bhansali

Web shows and movies are two entirely different fields. A director adept at creating magic on the big screen cannot necessarily recreate that magic for the small screen. Films follow their own structure while streaming shows with six to eight episodes have their own episodic structure. The ongoing HBO series The Sympathizer has someone like Park Chan-wook behind the camera. Yet, that does not prevent the show from feeling tiresome and forgettable (I watched all the episodes through the screeners). Now, it's Sanjay Leela Bhansali's turn - a filmmaker well-known for his grand costumes, grand sets, and grander emotions. Bhansali is one of the few directors who not only understands the mechanics of melodrama but executes them with fervor. The drama is heightened through rain, thunder, and lightning, not just dialogues and expressions. Every element works together to give you an emotional high. Even when there is a fault in the screenplay (take Gangubai Kathiawadi, for instance), you are absorbed with high-wattage performances.

What all this means is that I was utterly dismayed by the departure from brilliance in Heeramandi: The Diamond Bazaar. I had to pause the show a few times to check whether this was actually a Bhansali production. Bhansali, known for his grandeur, doesn't bring his usual magic to the small screen. Instead, he succumbs to its limitations. The dialogue-baazi is there ("Paanch laakh ke zevar, dus laakh ke tevar," "Dikhne mein paan, chabaane mein mirchi," etc.), but they are dispensed without rhythm. The beautiful costumes and sets are present, but they don't make you scream, "Gorgeous!" In fact, they look so cheap and fake that a fountain, at one point, looks CGI-generated. Heermandi might just be the ugliest Bhansali production. Unfortunately, the issues don't end here.

There is a scene in Heermandi where Mallikajaan (Manisha Koirala) states, "Moti ki keemat Saima ko bech ke pura karenge," and we cut to reaction shots of other characters. It's all executed in such a way that you feel as if you are watching a low-grade TV serial. Then again, almost everything here appears substandard. Heeramandi's idea of humor involves converting "Gunther" into "Gutter." A gay character is reduced to a caricature. Tajdar (Taha Shah Badussha) goes to a shop to inquire about a handkerchief at the exact moment when the person who knows about this handkerchief is also present there. Lajjo (Richa Chadha) talks to Zorawar (Adhyayan Suman) about their honeymoon, and he throws her out. Her pain, however, never becomes palpable. The emotions remain at a distance from us, which is true for other moments like when Mallikajaan overshadows Fareedan's (Sonakshi Sinha) debut with Bibbo's (Aditi Rao Hydari) last performance or when Tajdar reads Alamzeb's (Sharmin Segal) letter. A character dies when a cart stumbles on its path. The dreams of another character die as she comes back to reality when the same thing occurs later. This callback, however, feels devoid of drama. It comes across as a blip on the radar.

The problem lies in the fact that we never truly connect with the characters. Bhansali is so preoccupied with delivering expositions that he rushes from one event to the next. He wants to cover a wide area and might have constantly worried about losing the attention of the audience. This is why he doesn't allow scenes to linger, which only reduces dramatic beats to a bunch of bullet points. Waheeda (Sanjeeda Sheikh) complains about someone stealing her lover, and it's all shown and wrapped up in a single scene as if her concerns were merely a footnote. But then, Waheeda's issues are generally rendered disposable. Her desire to own Khwabgah, her wish to destroy Mallikajan, and her plan to seduce Cartwright (Jason Shah), a British officer, all come across as inconsequential and unintentionally hilarious. Alamzeb makes a sacrifice for Saima, but you don't feel anything. When Alamzeb's real identity is revealed to Tajdar, the sting he experiences never turns into something vehemently theatric. Even the scene where Tajdar's parents learn about Alamzeb's identity appears bland.

Bhansali turns out to be inept at shooting a tailing and an assassination scene. Still, what confounds you is that scene where a character mentions that a true lover must be suffering greatly, which is why it's raining heavily. Cut to the shot of a heartbroken lover standing in the rain gloomily. Such literal-minded thinking from someone like Bhansali feels like a crime. But this unimaginative Bhansali easily blends with a show where after a song with the lyrics, "The fields have blossomed with mustard flowers," containing visuals of women in mustard-colored costumes, we get a line where a character comments that Alamzeb "murjhaayi hui hai," so that we can "understand" how these women are indeed like those flowers mentioned in the lyrics. This tendency of Bhansali to over-explain the meaning of his images, his "poetry," makes Heeramandi stodgy (the connection between Mallikajaan's control over her tawaifs and the power exerted by the Britishers over the Indians is also made explicit).

Instead of juggling between multiple threads, Bhansali should have created a film by following a single character. Heeramandi gives us a Bhansali who is not in control of his story, his craft, his visuals. Thanks to a quick pace and abrupt cuts, the series slips away from your fingers. Nothing registers. Heermandi seems to have been made by a Bhansali admirer who doesn't understand what makes Bhansali a genius.

Final Score- [3.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times