New Delhi: Laxman Utekar’s Chhaava attempts to bring the story of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, the son of the legendary Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj, to life by blending 17th-century Maratha history with Bollywood’s flair for myth-making. However, the film’s ambition to deliver an epic tale ultimately becomes its downfall, as it struggles under the weight of its own excesses.
Despite strong performances from lead actor Vicky Kaushal as Sambhaji and Akshaye Khanna as the antagonist Aurangzeb, Chhaava falters due to its relentless overindulgence in dramatic theatrics and lack of narrative cohesion. The film’s title, which translates to "lion cub," sets the tone for a story filled with growls, scowls, and endless battle sequences that often feel repetitive and over-the-top.
The screenplay, penned by five writers including the director, gives Kaushal free rein to roar and soar as the titular hero. While the actor delivers a powerful performance, channeling his inner warrior with cries of "Jai Bhavani," the film’s flaws remain glaring. The line between historical authenticity and exaggerated heroism is blurred, leaving little room for nuance or emotional depth.
Adapted from Shivaji Sawant’s novel of the same name, Chhaava fails to capture the balance and subtlety of its literary source. Instead, it opts for a heavy-handed approach, portraying Sambhaji’s fight for swarajya (self-rule) and Aurangzeb’s brutal tyranny with unrelenting intensity. The result is a film that feels over-loud, excessively gory, and unnecessarily demonstrative.
While the production design, cinematography (courtesy of DOP Saurabh Goswami), and action sequences are visually impressive, they fail to elevate the film beyond its bloated narrative. The storytelling’s declamatory style strips away the human elements that could have added emotional resonance to the story.
The film’s opening sets the tone for its larger-than-life approach, with Sambhaji single-handedly taking on a ferocious lion and emerging unscathed. This symbolic moment establishes the protagonist as an indomitable force, but it also foreshadows the film’s tendency to prioritize spectacle over substance.
Akshaye Khanna’s portrayal of Aurangzeb stands out as one of the film’s few redeeming qualities. His depiction of the aging, ruthless Mughal emperor adds a layer of complexity to an otherwise one-dimensional narrative. However, even his performance cannot compensate for the film’s lack of depth.
The women in Chhaava, including Sambhaji’s wife Yesubai (Rashmika Mandanna) and Aurangzeb’s daughter Zeenat (Diana Penty), are given limited screen time and fail to leave a lasting impact. Similarly, supporting characters like Sambhaji’s general Hambirao Mohite (Ashutosh Rana) and court poet Kavi Kalash (Vineet Kumar Singh) are overshadowed by the film’s relentless focus on action and grandeur.
At its core, Chhaava is a tiresome, single-note tale that oscillates between themes of greed versus glory and brutality versus righteousness. The battles, though visually striking, lack tension, as the Mughal soldiers are portrayed as helpless lambs to the slaughter. Aurangzeb, despite his menacing threats, comes across as a powerless figure, further undermining the stakes of the narrative.
While the film’s visual aesthetics and the performances of Kaushal and Khanna provide some redeeming moments, Chhaava ultimately falls short of its potential. It fails to capture the granular details of history or the emotional depth needed to make its larger-than-life story resonate with audiences. In the end, Chhaava is a classic case of style over substance, leaving viewers exhausted rather than inspired.
