If Ashutosh Gowariker was your history teacher
in college, you’d always be wondering
whether to go for his class or skip it.
Because sometimes, he creates 
a masterpiece  like the Oscar-nominated
Lagaan: Once Upon a Time in India.
Other times, his ability to merge 
spectacle with intimacy
and emotion fails him and 
he delivers the unwatchable Mohenjodaro.
But in both cases,
you have to admire his earnestness, 
passion and the studious gaze
that he turns on Indian history.
In Panipat, he recreates the 
third battle of Panipat.
The 18th century battle is considered
to be one of the biggest clashes of two armies
– the Afghans led by Ahmad Shah Abdali
and the Marathas led 
by Sadashivrao Bhau.
It’s estimated that 
more than a 100,000 Marathas
died during and after the battle.
The Marathas lost because 
they were outnumbered and betrayed.
Do not scream spoiler. This film is called
Panipat: The Great Betrayal.
But Abdali never 
invaded India again.
It’s a rousing story filled with noble warriors,
feisty wives, power struggles
and selfless courage. With its emphasis 
on masculinity and motherland,
it’s also a story that speaks directly 
to our hyper-nationalistic cultural climate.
There are enough opportunities for 
impassioned speeches on deshbhakti,
defending our country and 
the glory of the mard maratha.
At one point, a character says: 
Ishwar kare kesariya dhvaj ko nayi unchai mile.
The ultimate goal is to
keep the saffron flag flying high.
The enemy is Muslim
which makes the fit with 
the current polarized political narrative, perfect.
It’s revealing that Sadashivrao
is portrayed as an enlightened warrior who,
despite being warned by his own army men,
includes a Muslim as head of the artillery.
But Abdali, like Khilji in Padmaavat,
is a barbarian – in one scene, he bludgeons a
man to death using his crown.
This film should have been 
the 18th century version of Uri
because the josh of Sadashivrao 
and his men is always high.
Instead we get a labored history
lesson, which stretches
for an interminable 
two-hours and fifty-one-minutes.
The biggest hurdle is the writing– Ashutosh,
Ranjeet Bahadur, Chandrashekhar Dhavalikar
and Aditya Rawal are credited with screenplay
and Ashok Chakradhar for dialogue.
I always get a little worried when I see 
too many writers because a film needs a unified vision.
This is writing by committee 
and it shows on screen.
Instead of an organic story, 
we get a fractured, leaden structure
that moves from one scene to another
with the help of a voice over and animated maps.
The road to the battle is long, literally
– the army travelled 1300 kms from Pune to Panipat
and it seems like the writers decided 
to document every twist and turn along the way.
On screen, this translates into a series of conversations
with smaller kingdoms to align with them,
dwindling supplies, the battle strategies
and of course the continuing romance between
Sadashivrao and his wife Parvati who enters
key meetings to provide ready solutions.
The screenplay is essentially a check-list of
events that are being ticked off.
The characters have more layers 
in their clothing than their personalities.
Sadashivrao is heroic 
and Abdali, vicious.
The writing doesn’t flesh them out 
so there isn’t much that
Arjun Kapoor and Sanjay Dutt can do except
inhabit the characters in the most superficial way
Like standing erect to appear noble, 
delivering long dialogues without blinking.
The physicality might be a fit – we are told that Sadashivrao does 1500 surya namaskars.
But underneath the posturing, 
there isn’t a beating heart.
We get a hint of complexity in 
a few scenes with Sadashivrao and Parvati.
In one, Sadashivrao explains to Parvati 
that he is made for battle, not for politics.
But there isn’t enough
of this vulnerability and fear.
Kriti Sanon’s demeanor is too contemporary 
but she adds color and emotion to the story,
which often becomes repetitive. 
Arjun veers between sincerity and monotony.
Meanwhile, Sanjay plays Abadali 
as a one-note Afghan
who speaks Hindi without 
a trace of an accent.
But yes, his eyes are rimmed with Kohl.
Sadashivrao and Parvati are Maharashtrian 
in the same cosmetic sense.
Every few lines, there is a sprinkling of
Marathi to remind us.
Nitin Chandrakant Desai’s production design,
Neeta Lulla’s costume design
and the cinematography by 
C. K. Muraleedharan are strong
but I wonder if after so many 
historical films, a certain fatigue has set in.
It feels like we’ve seen it all before – 
the beautiful costumes,
the staggering jewelry, the grand sets. 
I still remember how dazzling it was when
we first saw it in Jodhaa Akbar but now 
Ashutosh seems to be cannibalizing his own work
Like the memorably erotic sword play between 
Jodha and Akbar in that film, here also,
you get a scene in which
 husband and wife wield weapons romantically
but it pales in comparison. 
The beats of the genre are also becoming familiar.
Padmini Kolhapure who plays 
the scheming Gopika Bai
will remind you of Tanvi Azmi’s 
Radha Bai in Bajirao Mastani.
The events of this film 
take place 20 years after that one.
Bajirao and Mastani’s son 
is a key player in Panipat.
We are in the same world 
except this one is less enticing.
Some of the key scenes
like Abdali crossing the Yamuna river 
or Parvati watching the final battle from a hill
are clumsily staged. 
And the digital effects are sloppy.
Panipat finds its footing in the last hour
when we finally get into the ferocious battle
Ashutosh succeeds in creating 
palpable horror and valor here.
The other plus point 
is Ajay-Atul’s music.
From the testosterone-filled Mard Maratha 
to the exuberant Mere Man Main Shiva.
I wish the energy and tempo of these
songs had seeped into the rest of  the film.
