William Shakespeare’s plays have been recreated on celluloid innumerable times by filmmakers world-wide, In Indian cinema too, the bard’s universal themes have been woven into narratives time and again, though often the source remains unacknowledged. After Gulzar’s Angoor (1982), based on The Comedy of Errors, Vishal Bhardwaj is probably the first Indian filmmaker to acknowledge the transposition of Macbeth in his hard hitting film about power and betrayal within Mumbai mafia in Maqbool (2003). In Omkara, Bhardwaj reinterprets Othello, taking the brooding Moor of Venice to the murky underworld in rural Uttar Pradesh, retelling the classic tale of envy and revenge in another gritty morality play. 

The plot of Shakespeare’s Othello is simple. Set in the upper echelons of 17th century Venice, it is the story of Othello, a general in the Venetian army. When the play opens, Othello, a favorite of the Duke of Venice, has just eloped with the fair Desdemona, the daughter of a nobleman Brabantio. He has also just promoted one of his ensigns, Cassio to be his lieutenant. This promotion enrages another ensign, Iago, who feels that he deserved this position, and vows to avenge his humiliation. The form of Iago’s revenge is devious and subtle -- he insinuates to Othello that Desdemona is having an affair with Cassio. Othello, a Moor by birth and of lower social standing than Desdemona, is tortured by insecurity, jealousy and suspicion and strangles his innocent wife to death. The truth is eventually revealed and Othello kills himself, leaving Iago to be punished by the court.

Omkara or Omi, our indigenous Othello, is a half-caste rural gangster, as much an outsider in the class/caste hierarchies of contemporary rural India as the Moor was in 17th century Venice. Omi is a warlord supported by the local don/political heavyweight, Bhaisaab. He leads a pack of outlaws who carry out acts of violence under the dictates of Bhaisaab and his political allies. In Omi’s team are the crafty Langda Tyagi and the dashing Kesu. In a short prologue we are told that Omi has just eloped with Dolly, the daughter of a rich businessman. On being brought up before Bhaisaab, Dolly admits her complicity in the elopement and the union is blessed by Bhaisaab, much to the chagrin of Dolly’s father, who warns Omi not to trust a woman who can betray her father -- words that stamp themselves on Omi’s brains with their ominous portent.
The real narrative begins when Omi appoints Kesu as his deputy, justifying his choice on the basis of the educated Kesu being able to capture the pulse of the youth. He thinks Langda, who is almost a family member, will understand. However, Langda, seethes with envy and resentment at being superseded after fifteen years of faithful service. Seeking revenge, he hatches a plot to bring down Kesu and Omkara. With the aid of Dolly’s rejected ex-fiancé Raju, and the unwitting help of his own wife Indu and a few lucky twists of fate, Langda’s plot takes shape. He insinuates to Omi that Dolly and Kesu are involved in an illicit relationship, instigating Omi to act in a way that leads to a series of events spiraling to a tragic climax that changes this rocky world and everyone who inhabits it.

The parallels in theme, plot and characters to Othello are left intact, all that changes are time and setting. The climax is also slightly different – perhaps because Indian films require a dramatic denouement and there is no room for Shakespearean soliloquies. It could also be that Bhardwaj wants to throw in a hint of women’s empowerment in a society ruled by brutal machismo. Other than that, Bhardwaj has seamlessly blended the bard’s story to contemporary rural North India caught in the nucleus of crime and politics to tell his tale of jealousy, power politics, intrigue, betrayal and vengeance. There is not much that is new in the narrative itself. What makes this film rise above a run-of-the-mill Bollywood entertainer, are its technical excellence, stark and realistic directorial treatment and some powerful performances. 

The film is brilliant in its portrayal of the rugged landscape of the North Indian heartland, blood and gore oozing from every pore. The cinematography is spectacular, as the camera zooms in and out of the earth tones of mud homes and thatched cottages to the craggy exteriors and rocky plains. At times it is reminiscent of old westerns with its vast muddied terrains and drunken revelries, but here it is an authentic Indian wild west. Meticulous attention is paid to detail in setting, costume, make up and the harsh expletive-strewn language. Raw this world is, but time has not passed it by. Almost everyone carries a cell phone, drives a Tata Sumo, watches satellite TV. Shakespearean plot devices, like Desdemona’s handkerchief, take the shape of Omi’s family heirloom, a kamarbandh, an appropriate symbol of a chastity belt. Overheard conversations are replaced with snippets of cell-phone talk. The script is taut: There are no excesses, no wasted footage, no melodramatic dialogues, no unnecessary characters or plot contrivances. Music does not play a large role in the film, and a couple of songs do feel redundant, though Bhardwaj tries to weave them into the narrative.

Unlike Maqbool, which didn’t have a lot of star power and went relatively unnoticed by the masses, in Omkara, Bhardwaj ropes in several big names, aiming to appeal to a wider audience. Playing a role tailored to his brooding screen persona, Ajay Devgan brings to life Omkara’s insecurities, his inner rage at being betrayed and his anguish on realizing the horror of his actions. Devgan’s acting is understated, saying more with his eyes than with actions or dialogue. However, he has played characters like this so many times that it has almost become part of his own personality. What does not come across as spontaneously is his passion for Dolly, primarily because there is very little onscreen chemistry between him and his co-star. Kareena, stripped off her usual glamour, pouts and gyrations, looks the part and portrays the innocence, the fragility and the incomprehension of Dolly with conviction. However, the character lacks depth and Dolly remains one-dimensional – the way Kareena plays her, she remains a helpless victim. There is no evidence of the steel within Shakespeare’s Desdemona, the fair princess who dared to marry a black soldier in Elizabethan times and accepted her death with dignity and courage.
Vivek Oberoi as the playboy gangster Kesu is the weakest character in the plot, and Vivek’s lackadaisical acting doesn’t bring anything to this role. As Kesu, all he is required to do is zoom around on his motor-bike flashing designer glasses and cell phones, get slap-happy at the slightest provocation, woo prostitutes, or get into drunken brawls, occasionally reverting to speaking English with an American accent to remind us that he has a college education. Langda’s shock at Kesu’s promotion is quite justified, it is a mystery to all what leadership qualities Omi saw in Kesu to make him his deputy! 

Konkona Sen Sharma, in a small but pivotal role of Langda’s ebullient wife Indu enters a new territory in her short but illustrious career. However, this is not one of her better performances – she seems uncomfortable in this setting. It becomes obvious that she has tried hard to master the dialect, but it remains an externality, and she remains an essential plot contrivance. What she does bring to the role is an awareness of women’s lack of power in this machoistic patriarchal society, a sense of women’s solidarity. Her final act, which is the only departure from the original narrative, represents women’s self-empowerment. Through Indu’s character, and Konkona’s rendering of it, Bhardwaj seems to be presenting a more contemporary twist to Shakespeare’s narrative. 

Billo, Kesu’s mistress, played by Bipasha Basu has nothing much to do but sizzle the screen with her sultry sexuality, which Bipasha does with customary ease. Naseeruddin Shah, as Bhaisaab, oozes a genial menace, proving his mettle for the umpteenth time even though his appearance is fleeting. Deepak Dobriyal in a brief but significant role of Langda’s co-conspirator, the dim-witted Raju, is good.

However, the film belongs to Saif Ali Khan as Langda Tyagi, perhaps the most all-rounded character in the film. As the personification of evil, Saif’s performance is astounding. His menacing presence is palpable even when he is in the background and overshadows every other character. He becomes Iago, the archetype of the ruthless schemer who commits no crime himself, but manipulates others to self-destruction. With blackened teeth, unkempt beard, pronounced limp, khaini-chewing, red nail-polish on his pinkie, obscenities spewing from his mouth, Saif emanates the bitterness and anger seething inside Langda, without having to articulate it. This film is an important landmark in his career and one can see how far he has come since his Ole Ole Ole playboy days (Yeh Dillagi, 1994)!
Summing up, Omkara is a dark and somewhat disturbing film in the way its rips off all layers of moral and ethical codes and lays bare ugly human emotions of suspicion, jealousy, greed, deceit and betrayal. Bhardwaj casts big stars to play his characters and proceeds to subvert the star system by transforming his actors visually and verbally into real people with all their grey shades. He takes a classic tale with universal appeal and reinterprets it in a completely different milieu. However, this new milieu bears no resemblance to the fantasy playing fields of Bollywood films. The world of Omkara is a real, but to most of us, harshly alien, world. We read about this world in newspapers, wincing at the lawlessness and violence and retrogressive values that reign there, and quickly turn our attention to Page 3 for some celebrity gossip.
Making a film as raw and gritty as Omkara requires considerable courage, and Vishal Bhardwaj seems to have plenty of it. Omkara is not a film that will please or entertain everyone. It may not win popular appeal in multiplexes or NRI circles where the deglamorized terrain, the crude language, and the unfamiliar dialect may alienate some viewers. However, it is worth watching, if not for love of classic literature and Shakespeare, not for cinematic craftsmanship, not for good storytelling, not for a well made, edgy moral tale on human frailties, but simply to see the transformation of Saif Ali Khan into Langda Tyagi!