Language: Hindi
Signaling solidarity with the global filmmaking community that is braving the pandemic, the Berlinale this year decided to convene a partial in-person event, with reduced capacities at screenings and muted glamour of red-carpet events. In its severely restricted form and with the absence of afterparties, the pandemic, in its waning phase as experts suggest with cautious optimism, has left a telltale mark on Europe’s biggest public film festival.
Under these circumstances, Bollywood’s trip to Berlin with its star filmmaker and his larger-than-life tale of a sex worker turned mafia queen turned social warrior who fought for legalisation of prostitution is without its usual fanfare. Nevertheless, the master of the grandiose and his professional muse Alia by his side were a significant part of the Berlinale Special - Gala section in which the film was presented.
Bhansali’s attempts at bringing to life a largely unknown figure bears all the hallmarks of his signature filmmaking, albeit the colour palette here is somber. Sepia tinted and in muted ochre, olive green, and pearl white (a whole lot of white), the film plays out in a gorgeously constructed make-believe world of erstwhile brothels, quite a departure from Bhansali’s gold and red festooned universes.
The filmmaker stops short of referencing the story in the title cards as being about a real person, except for the mention of its origins in the Hussain Zaidi and Jane Borges book Mafia Queens of Mumbai in the chapter dedicated to Gangubai. This detachment allows Bhansali to loosely interpret the history and embellish it with details to make it appetising for his viewership, but one wonders if it also enables the othering of Gangubai as the person at the center of this film.
It’s however clear why Bhansali thought Gangubai’s life would translate well on screen. “…Gangubai was so fabulous, in spite of being completely trampled by life, she was always joyous, feisty and spirited and would go get what she wanted…she would play cards and enjoyed alcohol immensely…so this was a great character to make a film on,” he told the press on the sidelines of the film’s premiere.
Gangubai religiously follows the Bhansali filmmaking template where gorgeously constructed set pieces and elaborate character arcs overshadow storytelling.
Much like the other four thousand women of Kamathipura at that time, Gangubai was brought into its streets and sold by someone she loved and whom she believed was taking her to Bombay to get her acting roles. Sold to prostitution, she stands in front of the brothel, leaning on its green doors, resigned to her fate, calling out to men in whispers as twilight falls.
That early promise of the portrayal of a promising young woman, wronged and forced into prostitution withers away as she gains clout in the community and grows bigger in stature and gains a superhero aura. Alia as Gangubai soaks it all in with so much conviction, lugging this tremendous burden of portraying a brothel madam turned gangster placed on her back with consummate grace. She even alters her baritone, a la Elizabeth Holmes style, bringing heft to the character, otherwise lacking in physical stature.
Gangubai forms allies with the local gangster Karim Lala, played by a restrained Ajay Devgn to dignified effect. She even forms a romantic ally, while still retaining her agency in the relationship. Indira Tiwari as Kamli, Shantanu Maheshwari as Afshan and Seema Pahwa as the brothel madam get considerable screentime and catalyse the narrative with their memorable performances. The character arc of Vijay Raaz as Raziabhai is unfortunately underdeveloped. In the role of a transgender woman pitted against Gangubai purportedly terrorising the latter, let alone Raziabhai’s background, even her present is not amply fleshed out.
The film revolves around the streets of Kamathipura, in tasteful, albeit sophisticated, sets constructed by production design (Amit Ray and Subrata Chakraborty) one almost wonders who employed the orientalist’s eye in its creation. It’s straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine, grubby streets of a brothel, it seldom feels like. The earthy tones of Sheetal Sharma’s costumes and the dusks of the streets are a treat to watch in Sudeep Chatterjee’s camerawork.
This is Bhansali and it’s a celebration of Gangubai’s life but a realistic portrayal of a complex character who was also an accidental feminist icon, it’s not. The film is engrossed by the marvels of Gangubai’s own accomplishments to portray her struggles as a real person, sacrificing it for the sake of palatability. Instead, what we get is a polished narrative of Gangubai’s life where every door opens for her as if in anticipation of her arrival, and every hurdle collapses into a mound of twigs in front of her.
That’s not to say Gangubai is lacking in substance, quite the contrary. Written by Bhansali and Utkarshini Vashishtha, it flips the narrative by handing out extraordinary concessions to the female lead at its heart, not entirely a frequent occurrence in Bollywood. To that end, Gangubai is worth every pandemic-fatigued film lover’s salt.
Rating: 3.5/5
Watch the trailer here
Prathap Nair is an independent culture features writer based in Germany.
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