The stage production of ‘Mughal-E-Azam’ is a faithful tribute to the classic film

Playback singer Lata Mangeshkar’s silvery voice welcomes viewers before the curtains are raised for Feroz Abbas Khan's stage musical Mughal-E-Azam, adapted from K Asif’s 1960 classic Mughal-E-Azam. Mangeshkar’s recorded message recalls her experience of singing the naat Beqas Pe Karam Kijiye (Have Mercy on the Helpless) for music composer Naushad. Mangeshkar congratulates Khan’s team for bringing the film to the stage and wishes viewers a good time for the spectacle that is about to commence.

The naat is a song in praise of Prophet Muhammad, and, in this context, is a prayer and a plea to audiences to go easy on the production. To tinker with the epic film is a monumental task as well as a risk that can spell disaster from the word go.

How does one dramatise Asif’s prodigious effort, which uses timeless music, opulent sets, memorable dialogue and stirring performances to tell the love story of prince Salim’s love for the court dancer Anarkali? Every aspect of the film is so deeply entrenched in popular culture that even a tribute can be seen as scurrilous if not treated with virtuosity.

Khan has assembled a stellar team of technicians for the production. Neil Patel’s ornate set design, Manish Malhotra’s shimmering costumes, David Lander’s light design, Richard Nowel’s sound, John Narun’s projection design and Mayuri Upadhya’s choreography are top-notch. The company Shapoorji Pallonji, which had produced the original film, has also bankrolled the stage production, which will be staged at the National Centre for the Performing Arts in Mumbai till November 1.

Brilliant recreation

The show does not tamper with the plot. It begins with emperor Akbar (Nissar Khan) praying at the shrine of the saint Salim Chisti. It is followed by a dance troupe swirling to the beats of a Sufi qawwali, celebrating the birth of Akbar’s son, prince Salim (Sunil Kumar Palwal). Anarkali (Priyanka Bawre) is introduced as a breathtaking statue, like in the film, who is then challenged by court performer Bahar (Ashima Mahajan) to a qawwali competition to win over the prince. The actors sing the songs, their competent voices pulling through the intricate melodies. They are accompanied by dancers performing the classical Indian dance Kathak.

The famed Sheesh Mahal sequence where Anarkali professes her love for Salim by singing the defiant love song Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya , is brilliantly re-created by using onstage props that reflect light into the darkened theatre, creating an immersive experience. The use of projection for a battle scene is stunning, as are the many props used to create a courtroom, gazebo, prison cell and even a starry sky for the star-crossed lovers.

The razzmatazz surrounding the show is plenty to create awe. Khan has a ready-made script to follow and there is little room for error in following it. While the singing and dancing are exhilarating to watch, the dramatic portions are played down.

Khan, whose credits include the epistolary play Tumhari Amrita and the film Gandhi, My Father (2007), knows how to extract nuanced performances from his actors in a minimalist set-up. But he falls short in the lavish production of Mughal-E-Azam, where the actors are needed to crank up the theatrics.

Jodhabai (Sonal Jha), who plays Akbar’s wife, pales in comparison to Durga Khote’s onscreen matriarch. Nissar Khan’s voice does not have the pomposity that exemplified Prithviraj Kapoor’s performance as Akbar. The yearning with which Jodhabai enunciated her son’s name and how Akbar cried “Sheikhu” in the film is not easily transported into the play where the actors speak their lines with little inflection or passion. Palwal’s tone is more gruff than emotive, and Bawre cannot carry the melancholy that marked Madhubala’s pathos-laden voice as Anarkali. Their naturalistic performances and the slow onstage movements slacken the pace of the show that runs for 2 hours and 15 minutes.