There is a world of difference between an ordinary Bollywood romance and a Gulzar romance.
Subtle, layered with subtext and gentle emotions, the romance in a Gulzar narrative is just the perfect foil for the kind of larger-than-life and overblown melodrama that filmmakers have served us time and again. Not for the wordsmith the glamour of Yash Chopra, the glitz of Karan Johar, the gloss of Subhash Ghai; rather, his idea of love and romance is based on words, beautifully written, witty and warm conversations and lightly concealed emotions that can speak multitudes about the nature of love without ever being ham-fisted.
They do not make the most spectacular of romances but end up being the most insightful. They have rarely happy endings but they have hearts as well as storylines that throb with quietly devastating power. If you don't quite believe me, watch 'Aandhi' or the magical 'Mausam' for evidence- or just watch that fabulous conversation in between the immortal lines of 'Tere Bina Zindagi Se Koi' and you will get the idea.
Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra's 'Mirzya' marks a return to scripting for the octogenarian legend and even as its colossal ambition might seem like an odd choice for a writer so attuned to subtleties, it is his unmistakable signature that is emblazoned throughout Mehra's expansive, if flawed, canvas and it is ultimately his mark that makes 'Mirzya' so intriguingly watchable.
Given his legacy of reinterpreting classic legends and myths into a modern-day context, the very premise- of the mythical romance of Mirza-Sahiban recast in a present-day feudal milieu- is pure Gulzar. However, while the film piles on a lot of narrative weight and even excess, it is the softer touches to the central romance that add welcome conviction to the fable.
Cocky, streetwise Munish and bright-eyed princess-to-be Suchitra are a romantic pair not unlike the usual couple that comes along in a star-crossed romance like this but there are little and crucial details to their yarn that makes us root for them. The two share a childhood bond of smashing, winsome whimsy- he smuggles til laddoos for her amidst classroom lectures and it is this memory that rings most vividly for both of them, when they are all grown up. Then again, when the two have finally flown the coop and end up falling from their bike on the desert, they end up laughing amusedly at the sheer comedy of the situation itself. Classic.
Mehra, however, finds it a tad hard to fathom this. Like Baz Luhrmann trying clumsily to helm a Woody Allen narrative, 'Mirzya' stumbles an awful lot in its rickety first half. It starts with gritty promise indeed- with a ragtag tribe of ironsmiths, both men and women, hammering on rough metal and ushering the beginning of the love story- but the opening notes of the tale are furnished with a stew of inoffensive but predictable tropes. We are shuttled between the modern day to a visually stunning medieval lala-land in which galloping horsemen race across glistening lakes, taking turns in shooting down clay pigeons, only to win the affections of a Sahiban who gazes at it all. It is an odd blend of Kurosawa and Game Of Thrones but the bigger problem lies in the present day scenario. The prologue with the schoolkids, a bit of Shakespeare and some obvious set-ups is a bit too ham-fisted, even coming from Gulzar. And while a stolen gun- and that stellar 'Hota Hai' song- adds some thrill, the proceedings feel too rushed- she is getting married, he is simply sad-eyed and unable to do anything and so on and so forth.
That is until the second half kicks in. Then, the film leaps forward in bold, if even foolhardy, directions, the characters start making sense and even as the narrative missteps feel important and crucial to the main gist. Everything falls in place here and while Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy's elaborate, beautiful score is used a bit too excessively, for most part Mehra infuses the romantic yarn with real stakes and taut narrative purpose. All the time, the master's touches become even more distinct- his elegant wordplay showing up in the beautiful lyrics, some of the finest ever written in recent years, as well as his trademark dialogue exchanges. On his part, Mehra indulges his skill for drawing parallels and inventing intriguing metaphors, even beyond what the script gives him. The happenings of the story, for instance, are presented by the musical charades of the tribe of ironsmiths in truly spectacular ways while P.S Bharathi's marvelous editing cuts to and fro from present to past with a thrilling immediacy.
Not all of it pays off though. Even the best screenwriters can make false notes and Gulzar falls prey to the same- his elaborately spun yarn sometimes running out of both pace and intensity, while some of the character development is skimped in favour for sticking too faithfully to the original myth. It also does not help that the lead pair of newcomers is not really that effective in conveying all the agony and ecstasy of being in forebidden love. Harshvardhan Kapoor, at least, gets the longing and despair quite right, playing off both his modern-day Mirza and his medieval equivalent in a soft-spoken, boyish vibe that reiterates memories of his father Anil Kapoor making his idealistic, doe-eyed debut in films of the 80s. However, Saiyami Kher, playing the film's promisingly complex Sahiban, looks vivacious right upto the point when she opens her mouth. From then on, it is disastrously downhill, though she nails that final travesty perfectly.
Also, 'Mirzya' leaves some potential unfulfilled. Some of the absolutely smashing songs could have been used for more compelling moments. A brief love-making scene begs for more sexual heat while the couple's short-lived idyll deserved more heart. And as for the supporting cast of well-picked actors, well they could have been given with more leg space.
Art Malik, that fascinating actor who was Hollywood's archetype for the Middle-Eastern terrorist in action films of yore, is here playing a Shakespeare-quoting grizzly father who brings dignified charm but is given too few moments- except for collapsing after quoting Julius Caesar- to prove his mettle. The same goes for K.K Raina, potentially the film's equivalent to a scheming villain opposing the romance, but given only one standout moment to rock- when he turns ruthless mere moments after handing a ring to Munish in faux gratitude.
On the other hand, the respective lovers of the lead pair get deliciously compelling narrative asides which also robs the impact of the main love story. Anuj Chaudhary, playing Suchitra's snobbish suitor, has actual pain and empathy in his blind-eyed jealousy of Munish while Anjali Patil's rural lass Zeenat is a wonderfully fleshed character- filled with the kind of heart-breaking pining and pluck that is somewhat missing in Kher's heroine.
And yet, despite its obvious problems, there is something about the film that draws you. There is something grandly ambitious in the whole enterprise, something berserk, messy yet overwhelmingly compelling and heady in an enthralling way. And it lies in the little things that make the difference. The fact that even those medieval flashbacks start looking mesmerizing and ethereal instead of being overblown (Polish lensman Pawell Dyllus does a spectacular job of immersing audiences in Mehra's vivid, kaleidoscopic canvas). The fact that the film gets a few nuances spot-on- from a child wearing his ID card before going to school to our lovers finding only a single bottle of petrol in the desert. The fact that 'Aave Re Hitchki' might be the most poignant ballad of seperated lovers in quite sometime. Those words are truly magical.
'Mirzya' is then better than one can expect. It has poetry, a fair share of passion and even some unexpected edge- that climax was quite a nice twist- and it ends far better than how it starts. The problem might be that it does not quite know sometimes what to do with it all. But, hey that's not really a bad thing.
My Rating- 3 and a half stars out of 5.
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