By now, the reviews are out, and you’ve read a lot about how Ramayana: The Rise of a Legend Brings India’s favorite epic to life. I saw the first-day-first-show at a theater in London, only to find all three screenings sold out on the day.

For a mid-week Hindi release, this is quite unusual. It’s safe to say that the PR machine did its job in creating buzz. But the real draw was the diaspora’s eagerness to see India’s favorite epic on the big screen with a Lord of the Rings-style treatment.

Full disclosure first: I wasn’t sold on the trailers and I didn’t find the songs impressive. But the film surprised me with its grand scale and clever special effects. Even at three and a half hours, Sridhar Raghavan and Nitesh Tiwari’s screenplay never drags. The storytelling is quiet, and the action scenes are spectacle-level awesome.

Like most Indians of my generation, I grew up on Ramanand Sagar’s iconic TV series The RamayanaLocal Ramleela, and many screen adaptations. I believe I am familiar with the traditional narrative.

Knowing that the producers of Ramayana: The Rise of a Legend Aspiring to appeal to a global audience, I hoped to reshape familiar arcs, even through a modern lens. But as a cinema buff, nothing surprised me more than the fresh, unexpected build-up to Raavan (a brilliant Yash). Far from the cardboard-cutout villain of most earlier adaptations, his character here is considerably more level-headed.

Honestly, for the first two-plus hours, Ravana almost comes across as a socialist anti-hero who champions the dignity of women. A Socialist-Feminist Ravana? Is this even a thing? Am I overthinking this? Let’s break it down.

Curious Rebranding – Has Ravana Just Got a Socialist Makeover?

Spoiler alert activated. The main scenarios are discussed below (although, to be fair, the source material is out by a few thousand years).

Ramayana: The Rise of a Legend The magnificent opening sequence establishes the eternal battle between the gods and the asuras. It also establishes the holy trinity of Hinduism: Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver, Shiva the destroyer, and their constant struggle to maintain cosmic balance.

The asuras were defeated in the battle. And that’s where the narrative (and the visuals) get interesting.

Defeated asuras are literally relegated to the lowest level of society – literally Rastal (underworld). They appear to be a completely defeated, downtrodden community struggling for food and even dignity.

Kaikeshi, Ravana’s warrior mother, blames and curses Lord Vishnu for constantly siding with the gods. Ravana is presented against this backdrop of systemic oppression. He is reminded by his mother of his responsibility to his people and the heritage he must reclaim.

Ravana, the talented musician and veena player, obliges and goes on a long, intense penance. He eventually receives a god-level enhancement and unbridled powers from Brahma. He returns to overthrow Kubera, the ruler of Lanka. What follows is perhaps an interesting political statement in the film. Ravana sees himself as an equal, ending the long-established system of gods. Most importantly, in contrast to earlier conventional portrayals as a tyrannical emperor or his standard villain, Ravana ushers in a purely welfare state in his towering and domineering voice (by Sharad Kelkar, who was also the voice of Prabhas in Hindi). Baahubali).

In his first address as king of Lanka, he announced to his subjects that they would enjoy the same food, wealth, comforts and privileges that he enjoyed as their king:

“No one will be hungry because of you. (None of you will be hungry or destitute).

What I eat, where you eat (What I eat, you shall eat)

As I will live, so will you live (As I live, so shall you live)

If my palace sleeps, your house will sleep too.(If my palace is made of gold, your house will also be made of gold.)

Anyone unfamiliar with the Ramayana, especially a Western audience meeting Ravana for the first time, can easily get the ‘first impression’ of a man made by social isolation, a benevolent socialist king or a revolutionary hero, rather than the ultimate epic villain.

It’s an interesting set-up, and it gets better.

In an important scene, Ravana’s brother-in-law abuses a female servant carrying liquor. Ravana’s response is unusual. He first shows respect to the woman, challenges his sister-in-law to a fight, and kills her. Ironically, this is also the first time the film calls Ravana ahankari (arrogant), a supreme flaw traditionally used to define his character in the scriptures. But looking at the sequence, you can’t help but feel that Jija was the real egomaniac, while Ravana takes the moral high ground as the champion of women.

I’m no expert on ancient scriptures, but traditional canons and old screen adaptations are full of anecdotes of Ravana’s indomitable pride. He terrorized sages, looted kingdoms and killed people, but those odd resume items are left out of his screen bio here. At least, until he kidnaps Sita and steps into his role as the ultimate villain.

Here too, the context of the motive is carefully repeated. In many of the previous retellings, Ravana’s sister Surpankha was shown as a comical or satirical figure whose humiliation served as a major plot device for the conflict. Here, she is given agency to match the film’s modern vision for female characters (including Sita as a warrior queen). Lakshmana’s destruction of Surpankha actually provokes Ravana.

In fact, Sita actively invites Lakshmana to attack Surpanakha, which deviates well from the versions prevalent throughout India.

While earlier adaptations often framed the abduction around Ravana’s own desire for Sita (sparked by descriptions of her beauty), here his motive lies primarily in the humiliation of his sister. In standing up for one woman’s dignity, Ravana commits an unforgivable violation on another woman, and this erases the moral high ground that the character had built up to that point.

Ranbir’s composure as Ram, the armor of anti-angst

There is a debate going on about Ranbir Kapoor’s Ram. Many are dismissing it as a one-man show with minimal emotional exposition. But he seems to borrow heavily from India’s ultimate screen-ram, Arun Govil (who plays King Dasharatha here). Given his acting range, fans naturally expected more fire from Ranbir. Ravi Dubey’s brilliant Laxman is being praised for his darker lines as the more human, relatable brother.

But then again, playing the role of Lord Rama (or any religious/cultural figure) in today’s highly sensitive times is a minefield. A wrong creative choice can start a campaign in which you can be accused of destroying the country’s trust. Ranbir playing it safe (probably orchestrated by the producers) with a calm smile, steady patience and suppressed emotions was likely a calculated defense mechanism. Criticism for a restrained performance is infinitely better than triggering a 24/7 rage cycle and being rejected by the crowd. Just ask the team behind Adipurush.

When the script allows Ranbir Kapoor to drop the shield, like his parting words to Kaikeyi or his declaration of war against Ravana, the brilliance shines.

Sita’s mistake?

Also, the pre-release buzz surrounding Sai Pallavi’s casting as Sita dissipated immediately on screen. She brings a quiet, stubborn dignity to the role and fits perfectly into the film’s modern female-forward take.

However, as a viewer, I felt a bit let down during the epic action sequences on Pushpak Viman. Visually, this is a wonderful set piece. But when Jatayu is giving full superhero energy, why is Sita standing there offering moral support and a frightened expression? Is she simply forgetting that the film has already established her warrior identity in a spectacular action sequence? He must have taken a good swing at Raven. is it

He said, the foundation of Ramayana: The Rise of a Legend is solid I’m ready for part 2 to see Ranbir completely unflappable, and of course, to see Sunny Deol bring his signature firepower to Hanuman.

As the credits rolled, my UK-born friend turned to me and smiled, “So part 2 is really going to be our very own Avengers in Lanka!”

It’s hard to argue with that logic.