Chhaava

Bringing to life the character of Chhaava is a roaring Vicky Kaushal, who, through his portrayal of the king, makes you bow down to his acting skills. He walks, talks and breathes like Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj. The Uri actor has put in a lot of effort to become the "Raje" Laxman Utekar wanted him to be, and the result is nothing short of a monumental achievement in their respective careers.

Chhaava is 10X of everything we have seen so far — a sweeping historical epic that delivers grandeur, emotional depth, and powerful performances that elevate the film beyond typical period dramas.

Chhaava’s redeeming factor is its terrific climax. Vicky Kaushal is breathtaking as he exudes Sambhaji Maharaj’s valour and passion for swarajya (self-rule) like it were his second skin. You just wish the film relied and trusted its story more than Rahman's music, which largely feels out of place.

Vicky Kaushal triumphs as Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj in this visually stunning historical drama that captures the essence of a legendary warrior's struggles and sacrifices with compelling storytelling and strong performances.

Brilliant Vicky Kaushal uplifts this strenuous film.

Chhaava isn't interested in nuance – the stilted storytelling, fitting seamlessly into the kind of filmmaking we've come to expect from historical biopics over the years, makes for a tedious watch. The film was perhaps 85% sword fights and (light) gore, and while the cinematography is masterfully executed, the narrative fails to deliver a compelling story about Sambhaji Maharaj or the concept of 'swarajya' that drove his reign.

'Chhaava' is a roaring tribute to bad film-making, failing to craft a coherent narrative despite its ambitious historical scope.

Its bellicose tone is like Chandraprakash Dwivedi's Samrat Prithviraj (2022), while some of its action sequences resemble scenes from the Partition. The thirst for comeuppance, vengeance and macho reprisal is stark, making for a frequently violent, often draining experience. The film's lack of feeling is vivid too, with shouty speechifying mistaken for heartfelt passion and sumptuous visuals confused for grandeur.

However, the intrigue seldom translates into something substantial on screen. Amidst the war cries, the narrative jumps from one cutting-and-chopping exercise on the battlefield to the other. A cliched mess of Hindi and Urdu, dialogues are there only to state the obvious, and AR Rahman's music is at odds with the rich Marathi detailing of the production design and the overall texture of the film.