From the moment the very first trailer for Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s “Heeramandi” on Netflix arrived, it’s become increasingly difficult to ignore that a certain type of Indian actress has passed into extinction.
Since the dawn of Indian cinema, music and dance have been integral to the movie-going experience, with extra emphasis placed on the “heroine” — a leading lady who could not only carry a whole film as an actor, but also captivate the audience as a graceful, expressive dancer. Think of Hollywood corollaries like Judy Garland, Ginger Rogers, Doris Day — but if they were working well into the late 20th and even 21st century.It’s inherently wrapped up in India’s history of folk dance, which is always present at festivals or celebrations; and classical dance, which requires extensive training and was often a precursor to entering beauty pageants and the film industry. Heroines like Sridevi, Waheeda Rehman, Madhubala, and many more paved the way before Bhansali’s directing career even began.
“Heeramandi” — from an auteur like Bhansali, hailed for his portrayals of women over the years — feels like the definitive death of that classic Bollywood heroine. The core ensemble of the Netflix series is entirely female: the relentless Mallikajaan (Manisha Koirala), the ferocious Fareedan (Sonakshi Sinha), resilient Bibbo (Aditi Rao Hydari), wide-eyed Alamzeb (Sharmin Segal), tragic Lajjo (Richa Chaddha), and underestimated Waheeda (Sanjeeda Sheikh). The six of them stand imposingly on the show poster, decked out in extravagant clothing and jewelry, but the reality is that none of these characters or performers stand out in the finished product.
The mesmerizing expressions, the ethereal grace — those long-standing hallmarks are gone. The classic heroine is missing, and has been for some time … her absence perhaps mitigated by the overall growth of Hindi cinema.
To chart the decline, one need look no further than Bhansali’s own extensive filmography. He worked with Koirala in his debut feature “Khamoshi: The Musical,” before multiple films starring Aishwarya Rai, then one of the most famous faces to come out of India as a model, film star, and Miss World. From 2013 to 2018, Bhansali’s films starred superstar Deepika Padukone, usually opposite her partner Ranveer Singh.
Most of these movies were known for their showstopping musical numbers with dazzling visuals, the soundtracks and choreography becoming embedded into Indian pop culture until — well, until now. Before “Heeramandi,” Bhansali surprised audiences with “Gangubai Kathiawadi,” which toned down significantly on music and dance sequences to emphasize star Alia Bhatt’s strong acting.
As the Indian film industry faced the swirling tide of modernization and Westernization in the 21st century, the heroine started to look different: thinner, fairer, probably descended of famous parents and born into the film industry. As always, there are exceptions, and no film industry has ever been immune to the temptation to value physical appearance over talent — but over the years, only one of those facets should stand the test of time.
Countless actresses are “launched” in Hindi cinema, especially those who fit the mold of the 2000s, yet only a handful proved their mettle as performers or still work today. It never helped that the average Bollywood heroine had a tragically short shelf life, or that women in the entertainment industry in general are constantly scrutinized and often taken advantage of. The rise of social media and smart phones also birthed the influencer and the way people now perform for close-up cameras and lip syncs, compared to the different visual demands of the stage or film.
Unlike their predecessors, today’s heroines have to be able to speak pristine English, to command social media, to dance in heels, and be comfortable with various levels of on-screen intimacy. They have to score brand deals, navigate the minefield of theatrical releases, streaming, and the blurring overlap between television and film.
Yet, every few months some clip will surface on social media of Rai or Rekha or Madhuri Dixit-Nene or Helen — captioned with some version of “No one is doing it like this anymore.” The closest proxy would be Padukone or Priyanka Chopra Jonas, both of whom starred in Bhansali’s 2015 “Bajirao Mastani” — but even leading up to the film’s release audiences compared their performance of the song “Pinga” to Rai and Dixit-Nene in 2002’s “Dola Re Dola,” concluding that it was a pale imitation. Something — be it the performance or the direction or the sheer disadvantage of comparison — wasn’t working, and hasn’t been fixed. And if a filmmaker like Bhansali can’t capture it, can anyone?
Interestingly, the heroine’s decline has ushered in a new kind of hero, with credit largely to Singh. The modern Hindi film “hero” spends every moment off-set at the gym, can dance as well if not better than his female costar, and is comfortable being an object of desire on a level that was once reserved for women. The “item number” — a film song devoted to titillating female dance performances, often as a guest appearance — is now as much a realm for men as women, and female iterations are more about empowerment than catering to the male gaze.
The trade-off is that there are ostensibly more successful working female actors in India than ever before. For every airbrushed face funneled into the defunct Heroine Factory, there’s a Konkona Sen, a Radhika Apte, a Bhumi Pednekar or Sanya Malhotra. Sinha, fresh off Prime Video’s brilliant “Dahaad,” delivers some of the best acting in “Heeramandi.” Bhatt is a mainstream superstar and highly skilled actor, while Koirala, Tabu, and Kareena Kapoor (the latter two recently headlined “Crew”) defy the dusty old standard that made actresses retire after the age of 35, relegated to matronly roles or life on a farm upstate. Chopra Jonas and Padukone have become household names and global powerhouses, entrepreneurs, ambassadors, and more. Filmmakers like “Crew” director Rhea Kapoor are platforming edgy women’s stories in the mainstream, and Kiran Rao’s “Laapataa Ladies” is one of the best Hindi films of the century.
But it seems the heroine who won over Indian film audiences (and eventually the world), the very same who provides the very inspiration for Bhansali’s depictions in “Heeramandi,” is no more. Perhaps she will reemerge — ushered in by projects that appropriately platform her — but the chemical combination of time, place, filmmaker, film, and artistic sensibility that once churned out such magnanimous figures has ended for the foreseeable future.
