Ifirst thing that strikes you as Padmaavat unfolds on the screen is how tepid the opulent, overwrought film is in spite of its visual flair and technical wizardry. Its beauty, as is usually the case with a Sanjay Leela Bhansali extravaganza, is skin deep. It is magnificent but overly manufactured.Female lead Deepika Padukone - after whose character the film was named until censorial intervention shaved off the ’i’ from the title and diluted its upfront distaff emphasis, is an eye-catching epitome of elegance. She is a sight to behold. So, as some SLB fans might assert, is the film.There is pizzazz aplenty in this overlong horses-and-swords yarn, but it is all so superficial - if not wholly superfluous - that nothing that the excess-obsessed filmmaker throws into the boiling pot can rustle up a broth sizzling enough to keep crackling over a runtime of nearly three hours. What’s worse is the dubious ideology it peddles to uphold notions of history favoured by the nation’s current political dispensation.In one scene, Rani Padmavati ( Padukone) is blamed for the capture of her husband Maharawal Ratan Singh ( Shahid Kapoor) by Sultan-e-Hind Alauddin Khilji ( Ranveer Singh) . You allowed him go to the enemy camp alone and unarmed, she is berated by the King’s first wife. She is harangued for her beauty too. Padmavati replies: shouldn’t you be blaming the male nazar ( gaze) and neeyat ( intention) instead?