It should be a genre by itself by now, right? “Violence-focus.” At least in Hindi cinema. “Action” just doesn’t cut it; for all the glamourising, it is not even noir or dark in a Quentin Tarantino way. Such films feel like someone somewhere said, “I have this whole load of money to make films. And I want to spend it on showing violence. The more lengths of gut it wrenches, the more I am willing to spend on it.” Then, here at least, some other departments receive some attention.

I can see only so many throats slit, hearts stabbed, eyes holed into, limbs chopped off, and bodies flung from one end of the screen to the other in one sitting.

For starters, we can be thankful that there is context for the cruelty because reality might have been worse, on both sides. While there is much to be desired in terms of story, Chhaava is consistently good with its dialogue. And that’s an achievement in itself because it is a thin line between having well-written lines throughout the film and coming across as over-written. The language flows well, and both credit to the writer and the actors.

A few of them fumble here and there with pauses that don’t belong, Vicky Kaushal owns the role. By the end just watching him scream as he is at war makes you wonder how draining this experience must have been for him as a person. With equal gumption though, he powers through the scenes that require him to portray inner fortitude quietly.

The supporting cast does well with the little room given to them. Akshaye Khanna makes his presence felt, especially given his limited screen time. It is remarkable that despite the single tone assigned to each of the characters, all of them have recall value—from Rashmika Mandanna, Divya Dutta and Diana Penty to Ashutosh Rana, Vineet Kumar Singh and Neil Bhoopalam.

If only some energy had been spent on writing about his life outside war. The movie covers about 10-12 years of his life, 9 of which he was chased. By the way, how is it 9 years if the story we are being told started in 1681 and ended in 1689? Anyway, the point is, even if it is 7 years, did nothing other than war happen in those years? If nothing else, did he not strategise for more than a few minutes?

That would be the case if the aim were to show us the life of the valiant man. But here the focus is on the audacious valour, itself. Everything anyone else does is to exemplify this one aspect of the man’s persona—whether it is the villain or his wife. Anything else is considered unnecessary.

You get tidbits of the story as the audience needs a break from war. And those parts are over-written and done shabbily. Various characters narrate parts of his life’s story like over-acting storytellers, gazing into the distance, and telling it to characters who ought to know it already.

Considering that the aim is “action, action, action”, the last half hour paces out wonderfully, making you sense the courage in his very bones.

Interestingly, within that, they spend some time repeating the secular nature of the Maratha wars. And on the flip side, the non-secularity of the Mughals is brought up rather awkwardly. Here is this warrior, celebrating the torture he is enduring, and our tone-deaf Mughal offers freedom in exchange for abandoning his belief system. It’s as if let alone reading the room, he is celebrating being insulted.

Anyway, considering that the aim is “action, action, action”, the last half hour paces out wonderfully, making you sense the courage in his very bones. The runtime at over 2.5 hours also seems excusable considering that build-up is necessary for the last 30 minutes to work they did.

Similarly, if as an audience, you have signed up for the incessant intense aggression as promised by the trailer, or the poster even—you have it laid out for you with decent CGI work, editing and of course, action choreography. Though some of the action gets repetitive by the time we get to the last few wars. And, of course, this is after you excuse the sequences where enemy warriors stand around waiting for the hero to finish off their comrades before they attack him.

I can see only so many throats slit, hearts stabbed, eyes holed into, limbs chopped off, and bodies flung from one end of the screen to the other in one sitting. It gave me enough time to zone out and wonder—at what age does a warrior who saves a child in the middle of a battlefield stop caring about them as human beings? Because he just put his spear through so many men within a few blinks of, both before and after, saving the child. I also humoured myself with a thought that made me cringe at myself—as funny as it is to see kings and leaders of eras gone by dance on screen, I can see why those breaks are considered necessary. :)

But the one that caught me off-guard was the pride in loyalty and the remorse of not having it. Were the side taking loyalty for granted a little more suspicious of their clan, they might have ruled longer. And it’s not that they hadn’t burnt their fingers repeatedly. Were the side pining for loyalty to a cause a little more loyal to their ancestors, they wouldn’t have to mourn so. And the biggest question of them all: have we learnt anything other than, “War—so cool man!”

- meeta, a part of the audience