At the end of 161 minutes of Chhaava, based on the high-points of the life of Sambhaji Maharaj, the son of Shivaji Maharaj, you are left with two chief thoughts. How do you pull off a film which talks up a historical figure not as well known as his illustrious parent, without us wondering: how much is fact, and how much fiction? And the other, which is the reason you manage to sit through this ultra-loud, ultra-violent re-creation of a slice of the 17th century Hindustan is the total commitment on display by its lead actor to the titular character: Vicky Kaushal becomes Chhaava (‘son of a lion’), whose story the film adapts from the Marathi novel of the same name by Shivaji Sawant.

At its worst, the Tour de France turned moral decay into a non-factor. Doping among Lance Armstrong-era cyclists was so normalised that, perversely, the sport became a level-playing field. The logic being: if everybody cheats, is it even cheating anymore? It’s simply about who cheats — or performs — the best. The Bollywood period biopic is in a similar position today. It goes without saying that history and mythology are used as pawns to checkmate old-school notions of secularism. It goes without saying that the game being played is more modern. ‘Hidden’ themes like Islamophobia, bigotry, propaganda, erasure and jingoism are so normal that we barely notice them anymore. It’s the default pitch; that’s why “keeping the politics aside” is a common phrase. The irony is that, unlike the cyclists, such movies are so fundamentally broken that nobody wins. Cultural doping makes it a level-playing field of mediocrity and delusion. It’s like watching them race not to the finish line but straight off the top of a mountain. And not just any mountain, Mount Everest itself. Why stop there?

Ajay Devgn’s voice introduces the pride of the Marathas, Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj and the Deccan where he held sway. Also meet Aurangzeb and the Moghuls. They are parallels in Indian history. The biggest compliment a veer can receive is when he dies and a sworn enemy asks God to keep open the doors to “jannat” for a “sher” is on his way. When Shivaji’s death is announced, amidst a chorus of sycophantic utterings by courtiers, Aurangzeb (Akshaye Khanna), with sunken cheeks and poring over crochet work, wonders aloud, “Shiva jaisa dushman ab milega kahan?” Aurang then goes on to do what he does best – celebrate the death of his enemy. Writer-director Laxman Utekar’s cinematography origins show up in the “amazeballs” visuals. The earth trembles, hooves thunder in close-ups. The Maratha chest swells with pride as Chhatrapati Shivaji’s son Shambhu Raje (Vicky Kaushal) arrives, tanned and majestic astride his horse, sword flying, his roar surround sound.

Based on Shivaji Sawant’s Marathi novel, Chhaava (lion’s cub) aims to acknowledge the bravery of Shambhu Raje (Sambhaji Maharaj played by Vicky Kaushal), that most history books haven’t been able to. There’s more to him than being Shivaji’s son who was betrayed by his own men, captured and brutally executed by Aurangzeb (played by Akshaye Khanna). The film sheds light on why he was widely revered by his people and feared by rivals in the nine years that he held the Maratha throne. Still reeling from the loss of his father, Sambhaji and Sersenapati Hambirrao Mohite (essayed by Ashutosh Rana) invaded Mughal stronghold Burhanpur right under their nose. For the nine years that followed, Sambhaji trampled on Mughals’ expansion plans making him a thorn in their side. Sambhaji’s bravery overcame the betrayal he faced by his own people until he was ambushed and captured in Sangameshwar. Even his brutal execution couldn’t kill his warrior spirit and fight for Swaraj.