‘Heeramandi’ Review: Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Ambition Meets Remarkable Casting

If there was an embodiment of William Congreve’s line, ‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned,’ it would be the women of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi.

A Bhansali show is bound to be a spectacle – picturesque, grand, wonderfully-shot. But films or shows like that often face the potential danger of placing style over substance. With Heeramandi, that does tend to happen in places but you’re soon swept in by the grandeur of it all, especially considering the sheer strength of craft when it comes to the performers on screen. 

The lives and lived experiences of sex workers find a very empathetic telling in Bhansali projects – be it Devdas or Gangubai Kathiawadi or Heeramandi. The show’s focal point is a power struggle between Mallikajaan (Manisha Koirala) and Fareedan (Sonakshi Sinha). The former is the ‘queen of Heeramandi’ and sits at the metaphorical throne of one of its most famous brothels. The latter is out for revenge and for the takht so to say.

Speaking of empathy, the sensitivity in Heeramandi’s fabric is glaringly obvious in Mallikajaan’s characterisation. She is not a ‘good’ person – in fact, she has done some increasingly horrible things – but the writing finds a way to create a nuanced character without whitewashing her. At no point are her crimes separated from her circumstance and yet she is never given a complete redemption arc. Any redemption or any choice she makes feels completely natural to her character – they’re all a calculated choice. This agency is extended to almost every character in the show. 

This nuance is also what makes Mallikajaan and Fareedan’s rivalry so riveting to watch. It also helps that both actors have done a phenomenal job in realising their roles. Koirala plays Mallikajaan with a quiet but imposing restraint and Sinha matches that with an intensity rising from the character’s righteous rage. And that is Heeramandi’s biggest strength – the casting is brilliant. One actor who blew me away with their performance is Sharmin Segal Mehta as Mallikajaan’s daughter Alam who dreams of escaping her “destiny” and becoming a poet. 

Alam is the foil to Mallikajaan; something you would normally expect Fareedaan to be. Segal brings an earnesty to Alam that makes the character difficult to ignore even in the more mundane scenes. With Alam, we often see Tajdar (Taha Shah). Bhansali’s treatment of his female characters has been long discussed but Tajdar is one of the characters in the show that highlights the way Heeramandi’s men are viewed. 

Heeramandi is as much about the effect of patriarchy on everybody as it is about the importance of female companionship and allyship. Painting every male character with the same brush would be a disservice to the nuances of that messaging. Both Tajdar and the nawab Wali (Fardeen Khan) receive their share of internal conflict.

Tajdar must choose between ‘love and country’ all while being loved by a woman who constantly chooses him. Wali is surrounded by men who hold their status above all else, consequences be damned but he possesses rare shades of empathy. 

However, the duo of Alamzeb and Tajdar gets way more space in the screenplay than they needed to. I was more drawn in by Alam’s equation with her aide Saima (Shruti Sharma) – now here’s a pair brought together by their affection and their mutual desire to stand up for what’s right. For the longest time, I believed that was the love story to focus on. 

One of my favourite things about Heeramandi is the way ‘revolution’ is treated – in Heeramandi revolution is both personal and political. Set in 1940s Lahore, the freedom struggle against the British Empire forms the show’s backdrop. But the language of revolution gradually seeps into every episode, becoming too big to ignore by the end. In a world where people often forget the contributions women make to society, especially in matters of dissent, a story like Heeramandi is refreshing. Admittedly, the freedom struggle in Heeramandi isn’t as much about history as it is about ‘effect’. 

That being said, there are moments in Heeramandi where the emotions don’t completely translate off screen. While you’re watching a situation unfold, the emotions you’re supposed to feel are obvious – perhaps it’s basic empathy – but it doesn’t always resonate as deeply as you would expect it to. This is a problem that is rectified towards the latter half. However, this does make the show feel hollow in places – the grandeur of the sets become visible because your eyes are drifting to try and catch something more enticing than the story. 

The dialogues, while mostly flawless, have moments where they sound cliche. There are also moments where the characters tell us things we can clearly see on screen – deduction is an art nobody seems to be using in the show. The audience is told every single thing which becomes jarring. More reliance on the art of silence would’ve helped the show. 

Huentsang Mohapatra, Sudeep Chatterjee, and Mahesh Limaye do their best as cinematographers to bring Bhansali’s vision to light. The stunning colour palette – with gorgeous yellows and blues – is complemented by the way the camera interacts with the setting. While we’re at the subject of the show’s technical prowess, the music in Heeramandi deserves a mention.

While the songs don’t feel ‘new’, they’re not wasted in the show – every song reveals something about a character or arc to come. The song ‘Azadi’ goes from becoming a clarion call for freedom for the courtesans to becoming a war cry in the freedom struggle on the streets. 

If I had to pick a favourite, however, it would be ‘Tilasmi Bahein’ picturised primarily on Sonakshi Sinha. The ghost of ‘Darling’ in Saat Khoon Maaf hovers over the song but Sinha is too mesmerising to look away from. It is here that we also see the ideological disagreements between Faredaan and Mallikajaan, something I wish we got to see more of. 

Also, how good a performer is Aditi Rao Hydari? Hydari plays Bibbojaan, Heeramandi’s most-sought-after singer and performer. The way Hydari uses her body language to switch between her double life should be a masterclass in itself. Then there’s Richa Chadha as Lajjo, playing her character with the never ending grief reminiscent of Devdas and Bollywood’s Tragedy Queen Meena Kumari. With all the time she is given, Chadha leaves an impact in the Heeramandi universe. I wish we got to see more of Sanjeeda Sheikh – who plays the scorned Waheeda – as well. 

The one performer who rises above even their own surroundings is Fareeda Jalal as Qudsia – the warmth and charm she brings to her roles evident here as well. She is the one refreshing breath of subtlety in otherwise chaotic surroundings. 

Likewise, Heeramandi comes alive when we’re taken into the lives of the courtesans – the way in which women holding mirrors move in a circle as Fareedan spins in a chair or the way women sit around Mallikajaan, listening in rapt attention, as she teaches them her craft. It’s in these moments, when we see the women live their lives in their space, that the show truly shines. 

There are moments when the queer identity seeps into the show as well but this, too, would’ve benefitted from nuance. The one primarily queer character falls into old stereotypes albeit with a more sensitive portrayal. A deeper exploration of queerness in the world of Heeramandi would have added to the show’s substance, elevating it higher than its premise. 

With a close to eight-hour runtime, Heeramandi is definitely an ambitious project. The effort the actors put in to completely surrender themselves to this ambition is also commendable. They keep the show afloat, even when the screenplay suffers. 

Because how does one look away from Aditi Rao Hydari’s effervescent grace? How does one disregard Manisha Koirala’s depth of talent? How does one look away from a radiant Sonakshi Sinha?