Unremarkable ode to a great warrior

For the uninitiated, the glory of the Maratha kingdom ends with the great warrior Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. That his son, Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, was an equally valiant, fearless and fierce ruler is a fact we are not fully privy to. Thus, on this count alone, ‘Chhaava’, which chronicles the life and death of Sambhaji, is worthy of celluloid attention. After a brief historical introduction in the voice of Ajay Devgn, the film comes straight to the point. Mughal emperor Aurangzeb and his courtiers are celebrating the death of Shivaji. The Maratha kingdom is now well within their grasp. Only they have not factored in the might of Shivaji’s son. Vicky Kaushal as Sambhaji soon appears with his army and his valour is on full display as he vanquishes his enemy in Burhanpur, a domain of Aurangzeb.

Clearly, the emperor is enraged and vows to wear his crown only when he hears Sambhaji scream in pain. Can the Marathas defeat the might of the Mughal army? We all know the answer to this question. The point now is how well the director, Laxman Utekar, can take us through it. Until the intermission, the narrative moves at a fast pace. The period setting is right, with grandeur befitting the 17th century in which it is set. Sambhaji is not all brawn, but heart too. Other characters include a maternal uncle, Sarsenapati Hambirao (Ashutosh Rana), a loving and fawning wife Maharani Yesubai (Rashmika Mandanna), and a Rajput braveheart who is a poet too (Vineet Kumar Singh). But the problem is that whenever a Bollywood film is in service of one character, historical or otherwise, it goes overboard in eulogising its hero. Even if well deserved as in the case of Sambhaji, it keeps drumming the fact time and again. The net result is that not only are the other characters sidelined, the hero even when played by an actor of immense calibre like Vicky Kaushal does not get time to truly breathe. One of the early dialogues is, “Hum shikaar karte hain shor nahin”. Yet, the film is loud, with a louder background score (imagine, by none other than AR Rahman).

Amidst chants of ‘Har Har Mahadev’ and ‘Jai Bhavani’, there is no room for subtleties anyway, even though the film is an adaptation of the Marathi novel ‘Chhaava’ by Shivaji Sawant. Sure it makes a point or two about how family turning against the powerful has nothing to do with religion or dynasty. Lust for power can turn those closest to you into conspirators. Indeed, on ground zero of battlegrounds, where blood flows and revenge is cause celebre, how do you fit in any layering or subtexts? So, Aurangzeb is the demonic ruler who not only kills his foes but even those on his side if they fail to deliver. But surprise of all surprises, Akshaye Khanna playing Aurangzeb lends him both dignity and menace. The minute he appears on the screen, you are reminded what a fine actor he is. And, simultaneously, you wonder and regret why you don’t see him more often.

Rashmika, though saddled with a typical part of an overawed wife, makes the most of it. To be fair, she is not reduced to a caricature and has a voice in the movie. Now the man of the moment, Vicky Kaushal, sure looks and acts the part and emerges as a towering figure. But instead of using his blazing intensity to the optimum, we see him fight and fight, and roar even more.

In case you are wondering what ‘chhaava’ means, worry not, the film tells you over and over how it is a word used to describe a lion cub. Now, since lions don’t cry, nor feel pain, the well-paced film comes to a halt in its last act. History stands as witness that Sambhaji was tortured and this part is no figment of imagination or poetic licence. But in the depiction of these hair-raising scenes, if the intention of the makers is to make us feel strongly for Sambhaji, they don’t quite succeed in their mission. Even otherwise, the emotional connect is missing. Writing never rises above the ordinary.

The poetic jugalbandi between Sambhaji and Kavi Kalash could have lifted the film, but again remains subpar. And when Akshaye’s Aurangzeb says ‘maza nahi aaya’ to the poetic musings, he could well be echoing our sentiments. Yet, the film scores on what it sets out to do and manages to pay an overtly reverential ode to the 17th century warrior of Indian history, relatively lesser known.