Kangana Ranaut-starrer Manikarnika is high on nationalism and low on content.

Election season is upon us and if you thought poll rally speeches would not make their way into movie scripts, you are naïve.

Bharat, which is evoked in almost every political speech these days, is literally the heart and soul of Kangana Ranaut’s Manikarnika, popularly known as Rani Lakshmibai.

Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi is set in the Benaras of 1828, and opens with a baby girl being christened Manikarnika at a ghat by the same name.

Even before the baby gets to say maa or paa, a Brahmin is telling another Brahmin that she is meant for greater things. Soon, a fortune teller tells us that she is a Bharatiya who will go down in history as a legendary figure like ‘Shri Ram’. Yes, you roll your eyes but as a good Bharatiya, you want to give this Kangana Ranaut-directed movie a chance.



A random cut later, we are introduced to a grown-up Manikarnika (Kangana Ranaut) pointing her arrow at a tiger. For a second, her wind-washed curly hair reminds you of Merida from Brave. But this is no DunBroch, this is Bithoor in 1848 when the British have annexed princely territories.

This was a time when the anger against the East India Company was starting to simmer among the princely states. But don’t look for a mention of historical events like Doctrine of Lapse or the Sepoy Mutiny in this period drama. I can already visualise my history teacher fuming over the sweeping creative liberties the movie takes.

All through the movie, Kangana Ranaut’s Manikarnika talks about krodh (anger) and kranti (rebellion). At least twice, I thought I would take her words seriously and walk out of the theatre as an act of rebellion against poor cinema. Listening to the staid dialogues, one wonders if this is the same Prasoon Joshi who excelled as a lyricist in Taare Zameen Par and Bhaag Milkha Bhaag.

Historical facts aside, Ranaut as Manikarnika impresses you in bits and pieces. She lacks the steely resolve of a Devasena or a Sivagami of Baahubali. You see flashes of brilliance – in a scene, she refuses to go to Kashi and instead gets ready for the battle. Otherwise, all through the film, the thickness of Ranaut’s fake eye lashes remains inversely proportional to the emotional intensity she brings into a scene.

Manikarnika is a warrior queen but lacks agency. She wields a sword, but never fights patriarchy. Her valour, battle skills and braveness are eventually validated by a British general she fights, Sir Hugh Rose.

The second half of the film boasts of some convincing sword action, although Deepika Padukone and Aishwarya Rai have done it with more conviction in Bajirao Mastani and Jodha Akbar. Ranaut looks ravishing in her bloodthirsty war mode, but choreographed histrionics like horses jumping off fort walls, slow motion slaying of the British flag and endless GFX-generated soldiers are a killjoy.



But I suppose a true Bharatiya is supposed to enjoy watching British soldiers getting slayed.

Neeta Lulla’s costumes are impressive and capture the splendour of Maratha royalty. Production designers Sriram Iyengar and Sujeet Sawant too have done a commendable job of recreating the luxurious palaces of the 19th century. But Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s music fails to deliver a memorable tune.

The movie lacks the period drama grandeur of Sanjay Leela Bhansali and the narrative flow of Ashutosh Gowarikar. It rides on jingoistic dialogues and religious symbolism.

Nevertheless, Bollywood finally has a period drama where the central figure is a woman. One hopes for more such productions, but with less political compulsions to impress.

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