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Ornate, opulent and indulgent, Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Devdas is a rich tapestry of colours. Whether it is the barrister’s son, Devdas Mukherjee, or his poor neighbour Parvati, the rolling-in-millions Chunnilal or the kothewali Chandramukhi, everyone’s extravagantly dressed in silks, satins and the choicest muslins. They live amidst glitz, gold and stained glass, with Paro’s purani haveli almost an extension of Devdas’ palatial splendour.

And it isn’t just class distinctions that are blurred. When a thakurayin and a tawaif sway seductively to the strains of ‘Dola re..’, there’s little to differentiate between one’s payals and the other’s ghungroos. Maybe Bhansali is an unabashed Communist. Or maybe Chandramukhi and Parvati are alter-egos of each other, which is why Devdas is easily drawn to them despite their differing backgrounds, and they to him and each other.

Bhansali may well have been inspired by writer Saratchandra Chattopadhyay, and directors PC Barua and Bimal Roy, but his Devdas is nothing like theirs. It isn’t just Paro and Chandramukhi’s confrontation and camaraderie that sets it apart. The director has taken other creative liberties with the age-old classic. Devdas’ mother (Smita Jaykar), for instance, has been transformed from a helpless spectator to her son’s distress, to a class-conscious tyrant whose only moment of empathy comes when, after his father’s death, she urges Devdas to leave the haveli forever “because no one here has ever understood you.”

Kiron Kher, who plays Paro’s mother, is also given to extreme displays of emotion explained away by her jatra background. She is especially effective in the dramatic scenes. It’s interesting that both she and Chandramukhi, women scorned by society, stand up against injustice. Sumitra’s strident curse and Chandramukhi’s stinging slap ring in our ears long after the film is over.

Bhansali’s Chunnibabu, like his predecessors, has a ready smile and is rarely without a bottle, but his speech is a study in phonemics. And his Paro finds herself a new son-in-law in Milind Gunaji, whose lewd suggestions give Chandramukhi her moments of screen glory and whose mischief-making makes Paro a prisoner in her new home.

The real difference, of course, lies in the performances of the three lead actors and characters. Aishwarya’s Parvati is fire and ice in turns, as the camera lingers lovingly on her creamy complexion and champagne eyes. Once again, Bhansali’s ensured that she rises over her ethereal beauty to come up with an applause-worthy performance.

As Chandramukhi, Madhuri’s face mirrors anger and agony, pleasure and pain, provocation, and eventually Chandramukhi’s salvation, sometimes with just the hint of a smile or a lift of a shapely eyebrow. Her introduction scene is a revelation of just how far Madhuri has come as an actress in the past decade.

Bhansali’s Devdas is as hot-headed and weak-willed as Barua’s and Roy’s, but Shah Rukh also invests him with a little-boy-lost vulnerability, a soul-stirring poignancy and shades of dark humour. His moments of melancholy alternate with scenes of drunken revelry, his arrogance loses itself in helpless dependence, his tenderness balances out his tirades. Shah Rukh’s Devdas may still not be heroic, but he is certainly more humane. And his haunted, lifeless eyes stay with you long after you’ve left the theatre.

It isn’t just the performances that elevates Bhansali’s epic extravaganza. Credit is also due to Nitin Chandrakant Desai for his grandiose sets, Ismail Darbar for a classic score, Monty for his terrific theme music and Prakash Kapadia for the sometimes hard-hitting, sometimes heart-tugging lines. Neeta Lulla, Abu-Sandeep and Reza have also done Bhansali proud with their ritzy designer-wear, never mind that Devdas wears Lucknowi chikan kurtas over his dhotis, and Paro’s saris are more zardosi than Dhakai or tangail. In fact, as a Kolkata-born film buff, my one big grouse against Bhansali’s Devdas is that it is miles away from Saratbabu’s Bengal, never mind the Durga puja celebrations and the heavily-accented Bangla words that litter on-screen conversations. However, all said and done, Devdas is worth a dekko for its magnificence and star-presence.