WARNING: HERE BE SPOILERS! First, I'm not Indian (my ancestors emigrated to the US from northern Europe), but I love Indian films. Having been impressed by both "Lagaan" and "Swades", I simply had to see "Jodhaa Akbar". I drove two hours to see it at a theater near Washington DC, Friday evening, February 15, where the film was subtitled in English.
Other people have used the word "opulent" to describe this movie. Yes, it certainly is opulent. Costumes, jewelry (some of the principals' jewelry is genuine), furnishings . . . tents, swords, armor . . . all the large animals used yes, it is opulent and fabulous and impressive.
But anyone with the right finances can put together a glossy surface. Ashutosh Gowariker, however, has made a film with a great deal more than the superficial.
First, the stars. Hrithik Roshan is, in this generation, the only actor who could present such a commanding and brilliantly complex Julaluddin Muhammad Akbar. From his proud and confident stature, to the modulation of voice and eyes, the steadiness of his gaze, the occasional quirk of an amused smile . . . to the controlled rage of an emperor betrayed, or the desperate fight-for-life as he individually battles his sister's husband in the dirt it's truly a tour de force performance.
Yet while Ashwariya Rai Bachchan has a great deal of natural beauty and magnetism, and does a perfectly decent job with her role of Jodhaa, I wish we could see more of her heart in her eyes. I've heard she's no slouch, she works hard while on set . . . but part of an actor's task is to delve inside, and she seems afraid to let herself go long enough to experience either extreme darkness or unbelievable light.
The supporting actors are wonderful, especially in such roles as Akbar's controlling wet nurse (never underestimate the woman who nurtured a child from her breast), Jodhaa's father, and her cousin.
The big scenes, those of battle, of the emperor revered those call for a director to act as a military general, and Gowariker does a fantastic job with them.
It's in the smaller scenes, though, those that call for intimacy and subtly revealed emotions, that this film captures more than the big-ticket imagination.
There's a wonderful scene between Akbar, his emotionally-distant mother and his wet nurse (the latter wields enormous power at court), where we expect that the wet nurse (who's been anti-Jodhaa from the start) will again triumph, using Akbar's love for her against him. (In an earlier scene, he's wept at her knee the way he did when five years old, one imagines.) One verbal slip, though, and the emperor, astonished, shifts and asserts his power ("Don't speak to my mother that way!"), leading to the wet nurse's downfall.
The scenes between Akbar and Jodhaa are lightly romantic, tentative, as though from either side of a great cultural/religious abyss they yearn to understand each other. In one scene, he hears her song of prayer and goes to find her. She's praying to Krishna, and when he surprises her, she rises. She expects him to respond, but he's a bit confused, he doesn't know the forms. Finally she whispers "vermilion!", and only then does he act.
In another lovely scene, she's practiced her new calligraphy, and asks him to read what she's written. He must admit he cannot time on the battlefield meant no time for book-learning. Would she read it to him? She's reluctant. Why? She doesn't want to "take her husband's name", and then we understand in learning a new skill, the first words she's chosen are Julaluddin Muhammad Akbar. It's an enormous compliment, and his eyes show he understands.
As an American, I don't have the same interest in a movie's songs as if I lived in India (they haven't been played for weeks, here!), but I agree with others that "Azeem o Shaan Shahenshah" is unforgettable both in its power and grandeur (and how did Hrithik sit on his shins for the hours it must have taken to film this extravaganza?). It comes near the mid-point of the movie, and I have to admit that I briefly wondered how Gowariker would top that magnificent scene for another 90 minutes.
He does.
It's a tribute to this movie that for most of it, I was fascinated. Perhaps it was because I knew little of 16th century India. I think, though, it was because "Jodhaa Akbar" is a new classic. I haven't yet read Indian reviews (Times of India, for example), as I wanted to write without being influenced. I hope, however, that Indian movie critics have praised this film. It deserves it.
Even if they haven't, do see it on the big screen, where its majesty and intimacy are both well-served.
Other people have used the word "opulent" to describe this movie. Yes, it certainly is opulent. Costumes, jewelry (some of the principals' jewelry is genuine), furnishings . . . tents, swords, armor . . . all the large animals used yes, it is opulent and fabulous and impressive.
But anyone with the right finances can put together a glossy surface. Ashutosh Gowariker, however, has made a film with a great deal more than the superficial.
First, the stars. Hrithik Roshan is, in this generation, the only actor who could present such a commanding and brilliantly complex Julaluddin Muhammad Akbar. From his proud and confident stature, to the modulation of voice and eyes, the steadiness of his gaze, the occasional quirk of an amused smile . . . to the controlled rage of an emperor betrayed, or the desperate fight-for-life as he individually battles his sister's husband in the dirt it's truly a tour de force performance.
Yet while Ashwariya Rai Bachchan has a great deal of natural beauty and magnetism, and does a perfectly decent job with her role of Jodhaa, I wish we could see more of her heart in her eyes. I've heard she's no slouch, she works hard while on set . . . but part of an actor's task is to delve inside, and she seems afraid to let herself go long enough to experience either extreme darkness or unbelievable light.
The supporting actors are wonderful, especially in such roles as Akbar's controlling wet nurse (never underestimate the woman who nurtured a child from her breast), Jodhaa's father, and her cousin.
The big scenes, those of battle, of the emperor revered those call for a director to act as a military general, and Gowariker does a fantastic job with them.
It's in the smaller scenes, though, those that call for intimacy and subtly revealed emotions, that this film captures more than the big-ticket imagination.
There's a wonderful scene between Akbar, his emotionally-distant mother and his wet nurse (the latter wields enormous power at court), where we expect that the wet nurse (who's been anti-Jodhaa from the start) will again triumph, using Akbar's love for her against him. (In an earlier scene, he's wept at her knee the way he did when five years old, one imagines.) One verbal slip, though, and the emperor, astonished, shifts and asserts his power ("Don't speak to my mother that way!"), leading to the wet nurse's downfall.
The scenes between Akbar and Jodhaa are lightly romantic, tentative, as though from either side of a great cultural/religious abyss they yearn to understand each other. In one scene, he hears her song of prayer and goes to find her. She's praying to Krishna, and when he surprises her, she rises. She expects him to respond, but he's a bit confused, he doesn't know the forms. Finally she whispers "vermilion!", and only then does he act.
In another lovely scene, she's practiced her new calligraphy, and asks him to read what she's written. He must admit he cannot time on the battlefield meant no time for book-learning. Would she read it to him? She's reluctant. Why? She doesn't want to "take her husband's name", and then we understand in learning a new skill, the first words she's chosen are Julaluddin Muhammad Akbar. It's an enormous compliment, and his eyes show he understands.
As an American, I don't have the same interest in a movie's songs as if I lived in India (they haven't been played for weeks, here!), but I agree with others that "Azeem o Shaan Shahenshah" is unforgettable both in its power and grandeur (and how did Hrithik sit on his shins for the hours it must have taken to film this extravaganza?). It comes near the mid-point of the movie, and I have to admit that I briefly wondered how Gowariker would top that magnificent scene for another 90 minutes.
He does.
It's a tribute to this movie that for most of it, I was fascinated. Perhaps it was because I knew little of 16th century India. I think, though, it was because "Jodhaa Akbar" is a new classic. I haven't yet read Indian reviews (Times of India, for example), as I wanted to write without being influenced. I hope, however, that Indian movie critics have praised this film. It deserves it.
Even if they haven't, do see it on the big screen, where its majesty and intimacy are both well-served.