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Eklavya (2007) Director: Vidhu Vinod Chopra Cast: Amitabh Bachchan, Saif Ali, Khan, Sanjay Dutt, Vidya Balan, Jackie Shroff, Jimmy Shergill, Boman Irani, Sharmila Tagore Time: 105 min. Hindi with English subtitles Rating: |
Eklavya, like the story from the Mahabharat that gives this film its name, presents an interesting puzzle. The film runs less than two hours, it boasts an all-star cast, it lacks melodramic masala, it offers a tight plot, and it contains only one song-and-dance that’s blended smoothly into the storyline. However, despite defying the Bollywood stereotypes, Eklavya remains oddly soulless.
The film opens with a telling of the fable of Eklavya, a low-caste boy who practices archery until he becomes the most skilled archer in India under the tutelage of a statue of Guru Dronacharya. When he presents himself to the real Dronacharya, the guru demands that Eklavya cut off his thumb as payment for studying under him, even if it was only his statue. Eklavya agrees, knowing that this action will prevent him from ever again firing a bow.
The movie shifts to the story of Eklavya (Bachchan), the aging guard of King Jaywardhan (Irani), and in the first scene, we watch the king strangle his ailing-but-recovering queen (Tagore). Prince Harshwardhan (Khan) arrives for the funeral, and we soon learn that Eklavya is his real father. (The king had a fertility problem, so the royal family sought outside help to produce an heir.) The murder of the queen and the revelation of the prince’s lineage drive the plot as several assassinations are plotted, carried out, and avenged.
Overall, Eklavya is rather uneven. Visually, the film varies from the gorgeous to the average. The scenes of Rajasthan (Jaipur, Udaipur, and Baniker) are sumptuous, some of the scene compositions stunning. However, unlike Omkhara, not every scene is composed with artistry. Director Chopra seems to have given his full attention to only the scenes he cared about, while he didn’t seem to make much effort with those that proved too difficult to beautify.
The acting is solid, which should be expected from a cast of this caliber, but none of the actors give a stellar performance. Bachchan lends the production his screen presence, but the script doesn’t ask much from him. Khan shows he can steal a scene or two from Bachchan, but the script underutilizes his talent. And the rest of the cast acts more than admirably, but again, the script doesn’t push them to excel.
The script also fails to offer anything meaningful in terms of women’s roles. Tagore barely appears on screen, while Balan speaks fewer than 100 lines. The movie seems to suggest that women are insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe, which is puzzling considering that Tagore’s queen provides the film’s logical challenge for overcoming the inertia of dharma and archaic traditions.
As the preceding two paragraphs point out, the main problem with Eklavya is the script. It presents us with themes, without ever committing to those themes or developing them in any way. The film toys with the intriguing concept of paternity and how it affects father-son relations, but it doesn’t bother to explore this territory. Prince Harsh discovers who his real father is, and he acts rather unfazed by this revelation.
Likewise, the film is laden with Shakespearean and Hamlet imagery. Early in the film, King Jaywardhan recites “Sonnet 18.” Like Hamlet, Prince Harsh returns to the ancestral castle for a funeral, and he wears black throughout the movie. The stricken queen is murdered by her king, mirroring the murder of Hamlet’s sleeping father. Prince Harsh secretly loves the daughter of his father’s chauffeur, much as Hamlet loves Ophelia, daughter of his father’s advisor.
The comparisons, foils, and similarities are fascinating, but the film does nothing more than establish them. None of the characters are paralyzed with indecision and inaction. No one suffers or feigns mental illness. The action simply moves forward wrapped in a vague Shakespearean shroud.
Which leads to perhaps the most unusual criticism ever leveled at a Bollywood film: it actually could have been longer. Adding another 15 or 20 minutes would have allowed the movie to explore themes and develop characters properly. We could have witnessed how Prince Harsh truly reacted to the revelation that Eklavya is his father. We could have watched Eklavya anguish over the decision to fulfill his final act of dharma. We could have seen so much more that would have made us care about the characters.
And this explains why Eklavya ultimately feels hollow and lacks life. No matter how tightly scripted the plot is, we will never empathize with characters we don’t know, and without this empathy, we sit emotionally detached watching actors move across the screen. We have no sense of their lives, so the film has no life for us.
Eklavya isn’t entirely disappointing if you let your guard down and enter the theater with no real expectations, but it certainly doesn’t approach the majesty of a Shakespearean tragedy despite its best aim to mimic one.
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