Chhaava: A Gritty Portrayal of Maratha Monarch Sambhaji

Exploring the Depths of Chhaava

Laxman Utekar’s film Chhaava distinguishes itself from typical sword-and-dhoti narratives. This Hindi biopic delves into the life of 17th-century Maratha king Sambhaji, emphasizing the harsh realities of his era.

Utekar's depiction of Sambhaji’s nine-year rule, which began after his father Shivaji's death, is devoid of niceties. The character, portrayed by Vicky Kaushal, eagerly engages in battle, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his warriors.

He wears his blood-stained garments with pride, loudly proclaiming his dedication to swarajya, or self-governance. Even when seated on the throne, he appears restless, eager to confront his nemesis Aurangzeb, played by Akshaye Khanna.

While many Bollywood historicals tend to be exaggerated, this film carries an intense, aggressive tone reminiscent of Chandraprakash Dwivedi’s Samrat Prithviraj (2022). Its action sequences evoke memories of the Partition, showcasing a thirst for revenge and retribution that often leads to a violent and exhausting viewing experience.

The film spans from 1681 to 1689, culminating in Sambhaji’s brutal demise. Aurangzeb laments losing a formidable opponent with Shivaji's passing, while he and his courtiers, including his daughter Zeenat (Diana Penty), prematurely declare the end of Maratha dominance.

Sambhaji’s attack on Burhanpur in 1681 contradicts Aurangzeb's assumptions. The ensuing conflict unfolds as history recounts, but not without subjecting viewers to relentless scenes of violence.

Adapted from Shivaji Sawant’s Marathi novel Chhava, Utekar’s screenplay shines during action sequences. As a former cinematographer, Utekar skillfully employs visual storytelling, making Chhaava visually compelling.

Cinematographer Saurabh Goswami expertly balances light and earthy tones, capturing Sambhaji and his soldiers as they triumph against overwhelming Mughal forces. A notable scene, inspired by the film 300 and the Battle of the Bastards from Game of Thrones, vividly illustrates a smaller, motivated group facing a larger military.

However, dialogue during conversations lacks depth, with secondary characters like Sambhaji’s cunning stepmother Soyarabai (Divya Dutta) and loyal general Hambirrao (Ashutosh Rana) failing to leave a lasting impression. A prolonged mourning scene for Hambirrao feels unnecessary, given the limited connection established with him.

Rashmika Mandanna’s portrayal of Sambhaji’s wife Yesubai unintentionally injects humor into the film. While the narrative takes its anti-Mughal stance seriously, Mandanna’s struggles with Hindi consonants often lead to comedic moments.

Sambhaji’s character loses some nobility by being so closely tied to the battlefield. His only glimpse of humanity comes through recurring nightmares, where he seeks comfort from his father’s wisdom.

Aside from this psychological element, Chhaava presents a one-dimensional emperor, often shouting to overshadow AR Rahman’s overpowering score.

Vicky Kaushal’s portrayal of Sambhaji as a fierce warrior lacks regal presence, whether in court or rallying his troops. The cries of Jai Bhavani overshadow the adversary’s Allahu Akbars. When Aurangzeb suggests Sambhaji abandon his rebellion, Sambhaji counters with an invitation to join him, promising no change in faith.

The film starkly contrasts saffron and green, yet it is visually stunning. Akshaye Khanna’s portrayal of Aurangzeb is compelling, characterized by minimal movements and a hint of intrigue.

With excellent makeup by Shrikant Desai, Khanna embodies a reviled figure, conveying rage through subtle expressions. As the film progresses, Aurangzeb appears increasingly worn down by Sambhaji’s aggression, with time dragging painfully as Sambhaji endures torturous scenes reminiscent of Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ.

Laxman Utekar meticulously details this ordeal, which forms the crux of Chhaava. The Christ-like imagery resonates with the film's themes of medieval punishment, yet its emotional depth is lacking, with loud speeches mistaken for genuine passion and lavish visuals confused for true grandeur.