Vicky Kaushal takes on the role of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj in Chhaava, a historical drama that brings the Maratha warrior's story to life.
Based on Shivaji Sawant’s Marathi novel of the same name, the film dives into the legacy of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s son, blending history with high-stakes drama.
The title, Chhaava, translates to lion cub. While narrator Ajay Devgn rushes through a high-speed history lesson in the guise of a prelude, characters are explained outright rather than allowed to develop organically.
It’s an absolute shame, considering the world is built spectacularly. Saurabh Goswami’s drop-dead gorgeous cinematography captures some of the most visually memorable frames.
The production design and art direction are on full display and, considering director Laxman Utekar’s own work experience as a solid cinematographer, it’s no surprise.
The decision to talk at viewers rather than through the film's characters is baffling. Wars won off-screen? Someone informs viewers by waxing lyrical about the effect the war has had on the kingdom. Did someone die off-screen? Viewers are informed by the characters as they announce it.
It’s not just the explanatory catch-up sessions that are problematic. The quieter moments are awkward too. There are moments of respite, of course. Divya Dutta’s intense, obsessive role and Akshaye Khanna’s powerful, almost unrecognisable portrayal of the ambitious Mughal ruler Aurangzeb are among the film’s highlights.
Their presence demands undivided attention. Khanna, in particular, while given the usual dialogue that painfully drags the story through hot gravel, ends up making a lasting impact despite – and not because of – the narrative.
The other performers aren’t far behind. Every person in front of the camera gives it their all, from Kaushal’s impressive physical work as the film’s lead to the supporting cast that includes Ashutosh Rana, Diana Penty and Vineet Kumar Singh. The movie boasts a stacked cast that manages to impress, weathering the bumps in the road.
Unfortunately, nothing else in the movie sticks and by the end of the second act the narrative gets so excruciatingly loud and slow that even the flashy, ultra-violent action can’t save it. The film runs for 161 minutes but feels longer.
As the credits roll on Chhaava, all that lingers is a hollow echo of jingoistic noise. Not even the easy-on-ears soundtrack by Academy Award-winner AR Rahman can drown it out. The film is too loud, too long and edited too carelessly to make any lasting impression.
