Let’s get it straight — the film is titled Namit Malhotra’s Ramayana, and it finally makes sense. There were countless jokes and memes, taking a jibe at the producer’s excessive self-aggrandization. Many people probably don’t know the direction is by Nitesh Tiwari, the man who delivered one of the biggest global blockbusters from India – Dangal. But now, things have landed in place. Ramayana: Part 1 is a visual beast of epic proportion — ambitious, uneven, but one gamble that entirely rides on its scale, the much-touted 4000 crore budget. The one that is more about soaring spectacle than searing storytelling. And it delivers. Almost. 

There are no big surprises here. At it’s core, this is a heavily sentimental tale about sacrifice, brotherhood, duty, and karma. Working with an adaptation by Shridhar Raghavan and Nitesh Tiwari, Ramayana: Part 1 initially grapples to hit the right note on an emotional level. The first half particularly struggles to find a structure, trying to make sense of a tale of such epic proportions while tapping its emotional pulse. It’s not an easy task; the writers try, and the result is rousing in places, and uneven for the longest stretch. There is not a single moment between Ram and Kaushalya that tells you about their bond. The scene between Bharat and Ram when the former comes to visit Ram during his vanvaas is too consciously muted. Did we even get a fleeting close-up of Laxman’s wife Urmila, the one he left behind while fulfilling his duty to Ram? Why does Ram’s departure mean so much for Ayodhya common folk? The people are sentimental about him leaving because we know the original text. On its own, Ramayana: Part 1 constantly struggles to evoke emotions. 

Directed by: Nitesh Tiwari

Cast: Ranbir Kapoor, Sai Pallavi, Yash, Rakulpreet Singh, Ravie Dubey, Sheeba Chadha, Lara Dutta

Some of the minor updates work though. Be it Sita taking a stand for Surpanakha (Rakul Preet Singh), or showing Sita as a capable warrior of her own (Sai Pallavi brings an alluring gravitas to Sita, delivering a self-assured performance). In another deft touch, you don’t actually see Ravana abducting Sita from her cottage. You can also sense the social media critique of the popular religious text has been followed (a mundane scene is incorporated just to rationalise Sita’s jewellery-throwing moment during the Pushpaka Vimana scene).

In one of the bigger surprises of the film, Ravie Dubey lands an impressive performances as Lakshman. More importantly, the writers surprise by how they position him in the narrative. Amidst an otherworldly tale of gods and demons, Lakshman emerges as the humane voice: bitter, observant, witty, informal. By using him almost as a comic relief in places, Ramayana reminds you of the template they are going for. Formulaic storytelling is as crucial here as loyalty to scriptures, if not more. And yet, a core element of our mainstream cinema, how we tap into sentimentality, is largely missing. Bigger plot points — the predestined bond between Ram and Sita — are considerably devoid of an emotional pull. It’s hard to avoid a sense of bullet point-scripting structure here.

Having said that, it’s a great decision to open the film with Ravana’s origin story. The film establishes its antagonist and his intense rise to power, also setting up its visual ambition at the outset. Yash has a majestic screen presence, and commits to the part (despite the jarring dubbing work). Even though some of the action moments here are staged like any regular hero-elevation moments, the mythical grandiosity of his reign comes alive during these portions, and that’s what we yearn to go back to… especially because our struggle to connect to the protagonist continues.

Now, we are all familiar with Ram (a little too familiar, probably). And irrespective of our religious beliefs, we have a certain image of him in our heads. This is perhaps the most challenging role in the history of Indian cinema where one has to not capture but live up to the imagination of a billion Indians who have a certain imagery of the god-figure in their heads. Ranbir Kapoor just doesn’t succeed in his efforts. It’s a strange blend of humaneness and stiffness he brings to the table, that could arrive from the consciousness of playing a god. Ranbir is not particularly understated nor eye-catchingly theatrical — he is just… there. 

Some of the CGI choices too early on, like the animated look for every monster in Ravana’s Lanka including Kumbhkaran who is forced to be a bored spectator in a lengthy battle screen between Ravana and Vidyutjhiva (A commendable Vivek Oberoi) are bewilderingly mediocre, jolting you out of the experience. It’s only in the second half that the film succeeds in creating an immersive atmosphere with some of its action set-pieces. There is a rousing energy to some of these sequences, like the one where Ram, Lakshman and Sita battle the demons as a forceful trio. The sequence with Ravana battling his inner voices is impressively imaginative too. The film really pulls in you here, enchanting you just enough to remind you of the mammoth scale, distracting you just enough from its narrative flaws. The events overpower you with their grandeur, be it visual or aural (The score by AR Rahman and Hans Zimmer is powerful at places, and generically loud at others). It’s a sprawling narrative, but the energy picks up in second half.

In what’s the most impactful sequence of the film, Jatayu (voiced by Anupam Kher) battles Ravana to his last breath, and the sequence gives us some amazing visuals. But more importantly, it also gives us a less-chartered theme to ponder over; the sense of loss Ram could be feeling, losing one protective figure after another, all while calmly fulfilling his duty. It’s one of those rare humane moments that work. During another breathtaking sequence, there is a moment where Ranbir hits the nail on the head as Ram. As the one constantly seeking his purpose, he finally seems to have found something about himself. A journey of self-discovery has just begun. 

Among other things, one of the biggest accomplishments of Ramayana: Part 1 is how it makes you want to go back to explore the original text or its faithful literary adaptations. If only to see everything else that could have been achieved. It’s a great work of fiction, afterall.