Visconti's Le Notti Bianche (White Nights) was an atmospheric film about unrequited love, working with contrasting black and white of the night to evoke a mood that drew you into the world of a young woman waiting for her love to return night after night on a bridge that metaphorically links two hearts at a distance. Based on a Dostoevsky story and made in the sixties, its essential magic and exquisite performances by Maria Schell and Marcello Mastroianni pulled you into the story with a storm of emotions. Alas, Saawariya, almost a remake in every sense using the same bridge and attempting atmospheric nights but this time in technicolour splendour with neon signs and cobbled paths and waterways in an absurdly imagined setting that defies all time and geographic probability, fails to recreate the same magic.
A musical with the players breaking into a song and dance sequence every few minutes, this long drawn-out romance fails to ignite chemistry between the lead pair, striving more for cinematic perfection in terms of look and lighting (full marks to cinematographer Ravi K. Chandran) but falling desperately short in the screenplay, dialogue and direction department. Scribes Prakash Kapadia and Sanjay Leela Bhansali seem too mesmerised by their RK neon sign to realise that Visconti's combination of romanticism and melodrama was all about immersing in the central relationship that brings two hearts together, yet keeps them apart. The ubiquitous bridge through the original film is a signature of reaching places that are seemingly impossible to make it to, and when at the drop of a hat (the hero also has an interesting costume design touch of a Chaplin hat!) a song is thrown at you in Saawariya, the dramatic momentum is sacrificed. The Moulin Rouge hangover is also apparent, with blues dominating the nights and underlining the almost complete night colour palette. Does the sun ever rise in this place, or is the nocturnal play in the story the only element of drama hence the only setting.
Even if one was to overlook the absence of light, one cannot but miss the respite of brightness that love in today's trying times of commercialism so desperately requires. Bhansali is in Black mode, except it is now Blue, and the film is Saawariya, a film that is too pretentious and laboured for its own good.
Coming to the young debutants, both are extremely good, and the sole saving grace of this chhayageet. Ranbir Kapoor is a good performer, albeit a bit too Raj Kapooresque for today's time in the role of Ranbir Raj, and Sonam Kapoor is ever subtle but superlative as Sakina, the two ill-destined leads who meet one night on a bridge. While Ranbir falls for the girl hook, line and sinker, the girl has already given her heart to a tenant at her place who may have vacated the house but yet resides in her heart. Salman Khan is her love interest, playing the role of the older man Imaan, who promises to return by the next chand raat. So in the month of Ramzaan leading to Eid the girl lands up at the bridge, bringing in her first meet with Ranbir. Where does Imaan go to? If theirs is true love, why is there zero communication during this trip? For that matter, where does he come from?
Instead of the original's opera outing, this time it is watching Mughal-e-Azam that ignites the romance of Sakina and Imaan. And the club sequence has Ranbir proving undoubtedly he is a great dancer. But this club with its strange diners and drinkers is a total mismatch in the scheme of things around it. Without getting into any more comparisons or readings, even if one was to overlook all logic and common sense, Salman's brooding presence doesn't do much for the film, and he remains a veteran actor trying to find himself in a difficult setting. Rani Mukherjee as the prostitute who starts paying extra attention to her "Saawariya' and falls for his innocent charm is in her elements, but even her role is intermittent and the peripheral attraction. The leads are the stars, and they certainly work hard for the weighty launch they find themselves in.
Coming to the styling, it also doesn't belong to any time, and diamond ear studs and earrings are both there for Ranbir in the film, and a perfectly worn transparent white towel teases through a song. A vicious beating is followed by no wounds, and a man barely earning enough for two basic meals is dressed in fine "Rock Star' branding with the ear studs to compliment. The list of anomalies is endless, but the film possibly intentionally overlooks all this to arrive upon a cinematic poem that is both real and unreal, just like the original.
But herein also lies the problem; while White Nights was a mood piece soaked in isolation and despair in which imagery, the placing of actors and objects within each frame, was as important in establishing character and atmosphere as dialogue and action, Saawariya fails completely in evoking the same magical combination. While White Nights existed in a world halfway between fairy tale and reality, inhabiting that world so convincingly that we never questioned the more fantastic elements, Saawariya raises a lot of questions as we suffer the slack dramatic momentum with multitude songs as additional speedbreakers.
Cinema as poetry, pure and simple, was the attempt that failed miserably in this romantic experiment.
