Star Wars vs Bajirao Mastani

March 25^th 2016 is a marked date for me. On this mammoth day there will be two freak clashes — Me vs. Ex-supergirlfriend and Batman vs. Superman — but till that life-altering event stabs me in the deepest corners of my heart, you and I will have to settle for Star Wars vs. Bajirao Mastani.

Comparing these two films seems like a mistake of even greater proportion than me inappropriately cuddling a freshwater crocodile on that unusually cold evening on a park bench in Gold Coast. But, then where's the fun in life if its very existence isn't in danger.

There are similarities between the two worlds of the films. Both are larger than life, one set in the mythical future and the other in the mystical past, are indulgent, mega budget in their respective milieu, and with niche directors & sleek performances.

To my limited intelligence, the similarities end there, and a gulf emerges – a gulf bigger than the sexual freedom of an ISIS Jihadi's wife and a girl studying pop culture in weed-friendly Amsterdam.

I’ve seen all Bhansali films. I love the bearded man. I’d totally do him if I had that bent. And till yesterday, I had not only never ever seen any of J. J. Abrams’ (Director of Star Wars) films; I had lived in total ignorance of nerd-uably the greatest fun-&-geek film series ever.

Now the question I’ll ask is – why do you watch films & why do they (whoever the hell they’re) make them.

I watch them to drench into a story that will give me goosebumps — to slip into a world where mortals transcend into something more – that somewhere in those two hours I fall in love – fleetingly of course – but fall in love with their make believe world and become one with them. And some films do that you. And no matter what you say, that’s why we all go to films – to find the missing pieces.

Bajirao is an intricate, beautiful film that pretends to have a story – a soul – pretends to paint what true love is and makes its protagonist Mastani go all out to make it come alive. And I know when you read the next line, it’ll shock you for a second, but give it a moment to settle and you’ll find yourself in-sync with the precision of my absurd assertion. Bajirao Mastani is nothing but a magnum opus alter-ego of Ekta Kapoor’s Saas-Bahu sagas. Now try to imagine the film & recollect its greatest scenes. They’re between Mastani (wannabe bahu) and her Saas. Across the length of the film, Mastani is denied the honor of Bajirao’s wife by the vindictive Saas. Saas is the only resistance as Kashibai is ridiculously understanding and, in fact, the one who saves Mastani from being beheaded.

All great love stories have a subtle build-up and then that chilling moment of realization of love – that makes your heart explode like the big bang that led to evolution. Now that I’m pitching bolly vs. holly, I’ll stay consistent. DDLJ (1995) and Blood Diamond (2006), satisfy both pre-requisites. In DDLJ, the build-up is inimitable (and often copied) and the realization on the airport when Simran asks and Raj rejects her wedding invite — boom — it hits them that they're in love. 

Blood Diamond’s moment comes in the second half of the film when Danny suddenly informs Maddy that now they’ll be going separate ways. Maddy realizes this could be the last time she’ll ever see him, she asks him to take her with him, he refuses, she insists, he refuses. She quickly pens down several numbers on a leaf of paper & stares at him like you'd kill for a girl to stare at you. He asks her go get on the plane. She says 'So should you.' and asks him if he’ll call her as she walks away. He says 'As soon as I'm near a phone, ya', but she really doubts him. They never kiss in the film and they never meet again, but he does call her right before he dies.

Bhansali’s script doesn’t have the patience for the build-up and relies purely on four-part stratagem of splendor-showoff-sensuality-and-superstars. And for the billionth time, it further perpetuates the idea that love is the prerogative of the people of privilege – people with six-packs and those who’re pretty as fuck. I'm not denying that big chunk of romantic love is built on shallow bricks - mostly lust for body, charm, youth, beauty, wealth, and happiness, but that shouldn’t stop a director of Bhansali's caliber from making the love story a compelling one, not a morose, depressing tale of love that ends morbidly with Bajirao hallucinating like Heathcliff at the end of Emily Brontë's epic Wuthering Heights. 

We’ve all eaten a microwaved pizza in the morning after a drunken night & we’ve eaten the wood-fired oven pizza before we got drunk & wasted. No matter how expensive the microwave is – the pizza coming out of it will always taste like salty chewing gum. Bajirao Mastani is a pizza made in a fancy microwave pretending to be wood-fired. It’s a ready-made suit pretending to be tailor-made. It’s a tea bag pretending to be Darjeeling’s finest.

For the first quarter of Star Wars, I felt out of place like I was in this spectacular party in a Great Gatsby-ish world, I didn't belong to & didn't know anybody, but that feeling disappeared the moment Han Solo & Chewie walked in. It was as if a 3D hand popped out of the screen and asked for mine. And I, like Calvin the curious kid, held it and let it sync me with the Star Wars' world of layered stories that had started a long time ago. The next three-quarters of the film were like a beautiful dream I never wanted to wake from. 

When the film ended, I walked out to a world that looked brighter than the one I had left few hours ago. I know the feeling didn't last and the world was back to boring within 3 minutes, but the film triumphed in reviving a feeling reminiscent of first love – an emotion Bajirao Mastani didn't come close to evoking.