Umrao Jaan Ada's tale of courtesans and toxic men makes an unempowering musical
Even by the standards of Bollywood sagas, Umrao Jaan is complex and melodramatic. It is based on what is considered the first Urdu novel, Umrao Jaan Ada (1899) by Mirza Hadi Ruswa, which has spawned two Bollywood films, featuring two of the biggest female leads of the time – a 1981 version starring Rekha and a 2006 movie with Aishwarya Rai – as well as two independent movies. Now this stage version arrives in London, after runs in Mumbai and Delhi.
The plot concerns a girl, Amiran, who is kidnapped from Lucknow in 1840 by a man who was sent to jail after her father testified against him. She is then sold to a brothel, where she becomes a courtesan and takes on the name Umrao Jaan, eventually beginning a relationship with the high status Nawab Sultan. Then things get confusing: Nawab is disowned by his disapproving father and leaves her, Umrao strikes up another relationship with a different man and when she meets Nawab again he disowns her for being promiscuous. Umrao is then raped by a childhood friend, has to flee Lucknow after the British attack the city, finds her way home and is disowned yet again by her long-lost parents because of her years as a courtesan. The movies end with our heroine penniless and alone, musing on her misfortune. Their runtimes are well over the two-hour mark.
It’s a lot to pack into a new musical production (which reprises the original title, Umrao Jaan Ada), and a markedly unempowering choice of narrative. As in the films, the violence and sexual abuse perpetrated on Umrao is lightly alluded to in this staging by Rajeev Goswami. Instead, her shame is the focus in the sweeping qawwali and ghazal musical numbers.
Taken out of context, the music of Umrao Jaan Ada – tracks by Khayyam from the 1981 movie and new numbers by the duo Salim–Sulaiman – is striking and beautiful. Ballads such as the plaintive In Aankhon Ki Masti Ke or Hum Rahein Ya Na Rahein showcase the crystalline falsetto of Pratibha Singh Baghel (as Umrao Jaan), while the ensemble number Aadaab Aadaab is accompanied by a feat of slick, interlacing choreography from the 30-strong cast. Even the maximal and flashy staging – featuring panels of digital projections – comes into its own in these unrestrained moments.
Yet, by failing to update this story of courtiers, courtesans and masculine power, the production makes itself more passé than its filmic predecessors and lacks even their overwrought sentimental momentum. The plot unravels so rapidly as to be unintelligible at points, as surtitle cards with awkward translations rush to keep up.
There is emotive material to be mined in the Bollywood score and the interlocking love triangles and familial relationships of Ruzwa’s novel, but this production firmly casts the labyrinthine story into a past of outdated traditions and prejudice. This was a missed opportunity to tell incisive new narratives from an antiquated tale for today’s performers and those to come.
• Umrao Jaan Ada is at Sadler’s Wells, London, until 26 January.
