Kantara: Chapter 1 Movie Review:

When Kantara hit the screens in 2022, it became a nationwide cultural phenomenon. It blended rustic, mythical, and primal elements into a cinematic ritual. Rishab Shetty delivered one of Indian cinema’s most unforgettable climaxes, where divinity seemed to descend on the screen to give us a memorable experience. Three years later, he returns with Kantara: A Legend Chapter-1, a prequel that digs into the roots of the saga.

The phrase 'Cinema rooted in culture' gets repeated often, but in Rishab’s world, roots mean more than tradition. They represent truths about rituals, fears, gods, and the people who carry them. Set 1,500 years ago, this prequel feels more like folklore shared among people sitting around a fire.

Director: Rishab Shetty

Cast: Rishab Shetty, Rukmini Vasanth, Gulshan Devaiah, and Jayaram

Once upon a time, there was a king named Rajashekara (Jayaram), who was haunted by the land of Kantara and the wrath of the Brahma Rakshasa. His son Kulashekara (Gulshan Devaiah) inherits his father's throne, but he doesn't possess his father’s wisdom. Reckless and indulgent, he gets into trouble. Rajashekara’s daughter Kanakavathi (Rukmini Vasanth) grows into a quiet strength, becoming one of the story’s unexpected anchors.

On the other side is Berme (Rishab Shetty), adopted by the tribal people of Eshwara Hoodhota in Kantara’s forest. He becomes the lens through which dynasties clash, jungles breathe, and curses unfold. His journey is not about destiny; it is shaped by experience, choices, and the burden of a land marked by belief.

Kantara: Chapter 1 unfolds like folklore. Warnings echo like ancestral whispers: do not enter the forest, do not disturb what you cannot understand. Kulashekara’s arrogance ensures he ignores this advice. This story is not just about royalty versus tribes; it is about belief versus arrogance, myths versus human limits.

Rishab builds this world with care. The Kadamba-era backdrop, with busy ports, spice markets, and trade routes influenced by Arab and Portuguese cultures, is more than decorative history; it feels lived-in. Rituals unfold, battles rage in mud and blood, and even trade carries significance. Every drumbeat, chariot wheel, and coin connects to something larger.

Much of this atmosphere comes from Arvind Kashyap’s cinematography. His work does more than capture images; it stays with you. Forests seem to breathe, shadows hint at danger, and fire blazes with energy. Every frame matters, especially the close-ups of Rishab’s character that feel etched in stone. Vinesh Banglan and Dharani Gangeputra's production design grounds the story in a tangible reality. Chariots, weapons, and markets are richly detailed, supported by Pragathi Shetty’s costumes. The songs, background score, and sound design by Ajaneesh Loknath—with tribal signals, chants, and rhythmic percussion—move with the film’s flow. Visual effects appear only when needed, blending seamlessly. Hombale Films’ production ensures both scale and richness.

The structure of Kantara: Chapter 1 mirrors the first Kantara. The first half patiently builds its world and characters, reaching a powerful moment before the interval. The second half shifts into action, balancing sweeping battles with sudden, intimate moments where arrogance brings ruin. If the original climax involved divine possession, Kantara: Chapter 1 spreads awe across multiple events: a tiger encounter, the Kumbhabhishekam ritual, and the eerie calm before war.

Even amid myths, the film remains human. Berme’s growing bond with Kanakavathi softens the intensity, while comic moments from Prakash Tumminad, Rakesh Poojary and others provide relief without breaking the spell but though occasionally they pull focus from the main plot.Characters feel archetypal yet fully realised—Berme’s curiosity, Kulashekara’s arrogance, Kanakavathi’s compassion, and Rajashekara’s weary wisdom. Each character exists as both a symbol and an individual.

Performances are strong. Rishab Shetty gives a layered portrayal. If his role as Shiva in Kantara was raw, which earned him a National award, Berme is more complex, torn between worldly struggle and divine undertones. Rukmini Vasanth impresses with poise and subtle strength, becoming a surprise element. Gulshan Devaiah embodies menace in Kulashekara, although the script gives him a typical antagonist role, much like characters such as Pramod Shetty and others. Jayaram as Rajashekara convincingly carries the weight of kingship and curses.

The film sometimes drags—Suresh Mallaiah’s editing could be tighter—but the expansive narrative justifies its length. The action choreography by Arjun Master and Todor Lazarov is stunning, blending spectacle with primal energy. The opening chariot sequence is a masterclass in staging, while battle scenes resonate visually and audibly, each clash carrying the weight of history.

Comparisons with the original are unavoidable. If Kantara thrived on its emotional climax, Kantara Chapter 1 shines more in its scope than in depth. The finale is gripping but may not reach the same intensity as the divine possession. Instead, it explores myths, fears, and roots, touching on Guliga and Daiva. The last scene reminds us of the saying about gods manifesting in many forms to uphold Dharma. It offers explanations without oversimplification, enriching the viewer without overwhelming them. The language is simple, leaving us wondering if it was the same tone four centuries ago. Certain characters, like Prakash Tumminad, raise questions—are they standalone or connected to the first film?

By the end, what remains is not just a tale of a kingdom or a family. It is the story of the land itself; of gods who show up uninvited, of fears passed through generations, and of pride that topples empires. This is an origin myth: legends arise not only in temples but also in forests, markets, the cries of the oppressed, and the arrogance of kings.

Rishab has not just made a film; he has created a vibrant world. Viewed as folklore, history, or cinema, Kantara: Chapter 1 carries the pulse of the soil, the murmur of faith, and the echo of myth. The well still holds sacred stories. With Rishab at its centre, drawing from history, folklore, and belief, Kantara, its forests, and its mystical echoes will continue to follow us like shadows we cannot shake off.