Satinder Sartaaj as the lead in The Black Prince
Kavi Raz is in a state of imperative urgency. As the writer and director of The Black Prince — a film that may not be playing in local cinemas by the time you read this — he has a lot of history to cover. Frankly speaking, you’ve seen Hallmark Hall of Fame specials with better quality control.
In the film a young boy of five, Duleep Singh, the last Maharajah of the Sikhs, is forced off his throne by the British Raj. Separated from his mother Maharani Jinda (Shabana Azmi), Duleep is converted to Christianity and put under the care of a kind surrogate father (Jason Flemyng).
Fifteen years later, Duleep is a brooding young adult (Satinder Sartaaj) who marries twice, sires seven children, starts a plot to the end the British Empire and dies penniless in a Paris hotel room.
Duleep’s story is epic history but one deprived of imagination, intrigue or cinematic foresight by Raz. The director cuts across the narrative like a mad deviant, snipping through events as if they mean nothing, trying to get to the juicy bits as quickly as possible. But the juicy bits never come.
Much of Duleep’s bloody past — and his cause for rebellion — is explored in conversations in candle-lit chapels, park benches, evening strolls, dinner tables, tea gatherings and sepia-coloured flashbacks. All of it is monotonous, inconspicuous and unremarkable — like lead actor Sartaaj’s amateurish play-acting.
Raz’s screenplay wants us to believe that the British Empire is afraid of Duleep. He is a sleeping lion — an unstoppable engine of destruction. If only he’d stop moping.
“Something sits heavy on my mind,” Duleep tells his manservant in a bid to give his gloom some authority. The screenplay — devoid of flair and emotions — make his musings insincere. With the exception of Azmi (pitch-perfect as the mother who piles guilt on to her moping son), Rup Magon of the band Josh (Duleep’s manservant) and Flemyng (the sympathetic father-figure), the film’s only saving grace is its somewhat grim production design.
However, when you have only three actors and under-lit, well-decorated halls to look forward to, you know something is dreadfully wrong. No wonder the woman in the aisle next to mine was fast asleep and the couple at the farthest end of my row were busy playing video games.
The Black Prince is a nostalgic reminder of history. Not Duleep’s, though. It will remind you of your history teacher who droned away while you found better things to do with your time.
Mubarakan