Raja Shivaji Review
Films on Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj have become something of an annual tradition in Indian cinema — they arrive like a festival, and audiences welcome them with the same reverence year after year. Raja Shivaji slots itself into this lineage, but the question worth asking is whether it manages to carve out an identity of its own when so many of these stories end up feeling almost identical at the core.
The film begins on a brisk note, wasting no time in setting up its central premise: the day the Marathas decode the Mughals’ habit of striking from behind is the day the Mughal empire begins to crumble. It’s a strong, stirring opening thesis, and for the first few minutes you settle in expecting something monumental. The much-talked-about “Pune mar chuka hai” sequence delivers genuine emotional weight, but it also surfaces one of the film’s more persistent issues — the cinematography often feels closer to television-grade than the cinematic scale this story deserves.
There’s a lovely surprise in the early portions when you realise Riteish Deshmukh’s own son plays the young Shivaji — a charming bit of casting that lands without feeling gimmicky. But just before Sanjay Dutt’s entry, a sequence featuring two warring elephants looks unmistakably AI-generated, and it dents the immersion. It’s the kind of compromise that reinforces the TV-flick texture rather than dispelling it. Thankfully, the moment Sanjay Dutt walks in, the screen lifts. His look, his aura, his sheer presence — as always, faad. He commands the frame effortlessly.
The first half, however, leans heavily on a single emotional beat: Mughal cruelty and Maratha defiance, repeated in cycles. Once or twice, this builds tension. By the fifth or sixth iteration, it stops feeling like build-up and starts feeling like cinematic exaggeration. Shivaji’s first fight sequence is genuinely well-staged, but the CGI work doesn’t quite hold up to the ambition of the scene. On the gentler end, Riteish and Genelia’s first meeting is given the time and tenderness it deserves — staged almost like a dream sequence, and it works precisely because the film slows down for it.
The film’s biggest jolt of energy, somewhat unexpectedly, comes from Abhishek Bachchan. His single-handed assault on the enemy is genuinely better staged than Shivaji’s own combat moments, and — I’ll say it plainly — he looks more like a Maratha warrior in this film than Riteish does. His ferocity is electric. The moment he takes centre stage, the engagement meter shoots from 50 to 100 in a millisecond. The court politics involving him, Sanjay Dutt and the other kings is genuinely worth watching, layered and well-acted. And the scene where Abhishek’s character is killed through deceit is one of the film’s standout moments. As a Maratha warrior, Abhishek Bachchan is, quite simply, incredible.
Boman Irani showing up as Pir Baba is a small but intelligent surprise — a casting choice that pays off through sheer unpredictability. And honestly, this is where Raja Shivaji pulls ahead of Chhaava: it’s loaded with cameos, and it uses them shrewdly. From Boman Irani to Salman Khan, the film brings on board talent after talent, and that constant stream of “wait, who’s that next?” energy keeps the surprise element alive throughout. The makers deserve credit for the casting alone.
Beyond Riteish, two performances rise above everything else — Sanjay Dutt and Vidya Balan. Casting Vidya Balan in a negative role is a masterstroke. We’ve seen Sanju Baba play villainy so often that, while he’s effective, it feels familiar. Vidya, on the other hand, brings something genuinely fresh and unsettling to her role — and that novelty alone makes her scenes some of the most compelling in the film.
As for Riteish’s Shivaji Raje — there’s a clear arc of maturation. He grows visibly into the character, and by the time you reach the climax, there are moments where you genuinely feel the divine presence of Chhatrapati Shivaji on screen. There’s nothing missing in the writing of the character; what’s missing is that final ten percent of believability. Riteish should have committed harder. The intent is there. The full surrender isn’t.
What I genuinely loved are the small nuances scattered throughout the film — moments that quietly remind you the Marathas didn’t win wars on josh alone, but on buddhi and yukti. Strategy, deception, intelligence. The best of these touches is the way Afzal Khan is depicted — physically towering, broad, intimidating — making Shivaji look smaller in comparison. That single visual choice respects history far more than most films of this genre bother to.
The climax is intelligently written. But it’s hard to ignore that Chhaava‘s climax left a much bigger emotional dent — and that’s largely down to Vicky Kaushal’s commitment in the role. Raja Shivaji counters this with Salman Khan draped entirely in bhagwa, and a number of subtle, politically inspired touches threaded through the finale. Personally, I don’t mind these flourishes — as long as they don’t induce harm, they’re fair game in a film of this scale.
Overall, Raja Shivaji has the muscle to pull audiences into theatres this week. My one real grievance is the runtime — at 2 hours 45 minutes, it overstays its welcome. Trim it down to 2 hours or 2 hours 15 minutes, and you’d have a cut-throat engaging spectacle. As it stands, it’s a film you can comfortably take your family to without feeling like you’ve wasted your time. And for that alone, Raja Shivaji earns a solid 3.5 stars.
