In ‘Mangal Pandey,’ the blend of elements occasionally feels synthetic, sometimes eliciting sympathy, and at times, veering into the pathetic. The attempt to capture a pivotal moment in history is fragmented into compartmentalized kitsch. A. R. Rahman’s musical score fails to mitigate the sense of disappointment. Aamir Khan’s performance is ‘polished.’ From his appearance, he appears tanned, as if with boot polish, to portray Mangal Pandey, a figure rightly considered a pioneer in India’s struggle for independence from colonial rule.
The script’s harshness and inconsistencies often prove more oppressive than the brutal ‘Gora Log’ (white people) whose costumes seem readily available. The colonial forces in ‘Mangal Pandey: The Rising’ (a title that could have been ‘The Uprising’?) wear their red uniforms, presenting a display reminiscent of subverted Nazism. It resembles a theatrical drill portraying a uniformed travesty.
The characters, especially the white ones, lack a sense of lived experience. Cosmetic colonialism was successfully executed in Manmohan Desai’s ‘Mard,’ where the imposing Bachchan towered over the sneering ‘Gora Log’ with charisma.
However, in this film, the audience is expected to grant Mehta more subtlety than is present in the entirety of this patriotic narrative. Frequently, the buildup within a scene outweighs its ultimate resolution and purpose.
Of particular concern is the relationship between Aamir and Rani’s characters. Their courtship, echoing the Devdas-Chandramukhi dynamic (he recoils when the prostitute tries to touch him), lacks genuine emotional depth.
Rani’s portrayal of the prostitute is inconsistent with both the historical context and the film’s overall tone. She shifts between being auctioned in the marketplace, to the disgust of a British woman, and performing a full-blown, pouty, lip-biting, bosom-heaving ‘Mujra’ in Madame Kirron Kher’s elaborate ‘kotha’ (a touch of Sanjay Bhansali’s ‘Devdas’).
Instead of portraying the prostitute’s character with poignancy, Rani makes Heera saucy and playful… a kind of Babli of the flesh trade.
Surprisingly, Amisha Patel’s brief appearance as Jwala is comparatively well-received. The scene where the British officer Gordon, followed by Mangal, rescues her from being burned alive during the barbaric Sati ritual is filmed in exquisite tones of white, blue, orange, and sepia. She later shares tender moments with her ‘Gora’ savior.
One wishes there were more scenes exploring the Jwala-Gordon relationship instead of the mandatory love scene (though aesthetically done) where a single tear rolls down the rescued damsel’s eye.
Appealing visuals do not compensate for a weak narrative. Ironically, Gordon emerges as a more compelling character than Mangal Pandey. The conscientious white man’s colonial dilemma is brilliantly depicted by Toby Stephens, an actor who deserves more recognition. It is the first instance where a foreigner in a Hindi film receives applause without the audience understanding what he says!
Aamir’s mustache and bulging eyes perform all the talking and screaming for his historical character. Whether it is a flaw in the script, characterization, or the actor, remains unclear. Mangal Pandey appears more as a cardboard hero than a true martyr of independence. His climactic scene, where he single-handedly confronts a raging battalion of British soldiers, is skillfully shot but undermined by inconsistent editing.
The scenes intended to highlight Mangal’s heroism appear ludicrous. “I AM Hindustan,” Aamir declares pompously to a gathering of supporters, sounding like a child playing patriotic games.
Lacking a sense of irony and modesty, Aamir’s Mangal Pandey is a surly, self-important comic-strip superhero, rendered inaccessible by the actor’s inability to connect history with cinematic heroism.
Aamir’s Mangal Pandey is a martyr trapped in a limbo.
Unlike ‘Lagaan’ (a film to which ‘Mangal Pandey’ bears no resemblance except for superficial elements) where the protagonist often remained in the background to finally emerge as the central figure, Aamir’s Mangal never truly achieves this in ‘Mangal Pandey.’ He remains shadowed.
There are crowds of impeccably dressed supporting actors and junior artists showcasing nationalist solidarity. Even Rani Mukerji rides a horse in the climax (to appease distributors, perhaps?). They resemble extras from a cricket match at the end of ‘Lagaan.’
What is most jarring are the vulgar moments. A peasant operates a hand-held fan for a sleeping British woman with groaning and repeated masturbatory movements. A man auctioning the prostitute Heera offers to pull down her ‘ghagra’ for better customer satisfaction. Throughout, the cleavage quotient is excessive.
Unfortunately, the narrative lacks genuine depth. Director Ketan Mehta’s strong sense of epic scope and his remarkable ability to arrange characters in a seemingly spontaneous spatial harmony are appreciated. Nitin Chandrakant Desai’s artwork and Himman Dhamija’s cinematography enhance the film’s visual appeal. However, they fail to create the special blend of the epic and the epicurean that would make the historical context inviting within a cinematic narrative.
Faroukh Dhondy’s script is more typical Bollywood than a true historical account. Director Ketan Mehta seems determined to abandon his avant-garde image by creating a grand Bollywood spectacle.
The final outcome is a film that is more hysterical than historical and more cliché than captivating. Mehta’s film possesses brilliance, but if you seek his flair for blending socio-political commentary with color and spice, consider ‘Mirch Masala’ or ‘Bhavni Bhavai.’ There, folklore met a spirited narrative in a sweeping synthesis.
