We all know the story. Rama lifts the bow, wins Sita’s hand in marriage, eventually goes into exile, and fights Ravana to rescue her.

It is a story that has travelled through generations, retold in countless forms, languages and artistic interpretations. Yet, every time a filmmaker announces another adaptation of the Ramayana, there is a certain curiosity to watch it.

Not necessarily to discover what happens next, but to see how someone else imagines it, how the characters are brought to life, how the casting comes together, and, most importantly, how convincingly the epic is translated onto the screen.

Valmiki’s Ramayana is not merely a familiar mythological narrative; it is an enduring literary work whose cultural and emotional influence continues to invite new interpretations.

That familiarity, however, also places an enormous responsibility on anyone attempting to recreate it.

Director Nitesh Tiwari’s Ramayana approaches this responsibility with considerable ambition. The film wants to be monumental, visually immersive and emotionally significant. There is no denying the scale of its imagination.

However, somewhere between its ambition to recreate an epic and its determination to accommodate every significant incident, the film begins to resemble a succession of television serial episodes rather than a seamlessly constructed cinematic experience.

There are moments when I felt as though I was watching a carefully assembled collection of mythological episodes, almost like an educational film screened for students during a school excursion.

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It introduces characters, explains their histories, establishes their importance and moves towards the next significant incident. The information is certainly there, but the dramatic experience does not always follow.

One of the more interesting decisions is the attention given to Ravana’s backstory. Rather than introducing him merely as the antagonist destined to fight Rama, the film spends considerable time establishing his origins, his circumstances and the social conditions of the Asuras.

Shobana, as Kaikasi, becomes an important presence in this portion. Her character introduces us to the world Ravana comes from, his mother’s ambitions and the circumstances that contribute to his transformation.

We see a young Dashanana growing into the powerful Ravana, eventually claiming Lanka and establishing himself as its king.

His penance, the boon granted by Brahma, his marriage to Mandodari and his confrontation with Indra all contribute to this elaborate characterisation.

The first half-hour, in particular, spends substantial time on Ravana’s rise and the establishment of his kingdom.

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This is where Yash makes a formidable impression. His performance has an imposing physicality, but what makes it interesting is the conviction with which he approaches Ravana’s ambition, anger and authority.

His screen presence brings a certain theatrical electricity to the film, and whenever he appears, the narrative seems to acquire a little more momentum.

The writing also gives Ravana considerable room to breathe. His character is presented through his relationship with his family, his people, his kingdom and his own sense of righteousness.

This humanisation makes his portions particularly engaging, even when the screenplay occasionally appears to be more interested in explaining his greatness than exploring his contradictions.

The film then moves towards Ayodhya and introduces Rama, played by Ranbir Kapoor. His introduction, along with the presence of Lakshmana, played by Ravi Dubey, establishes another significant part of the narrative.

Ravi Dubey deserves appreciation for his portrayal.

His performance brings the necessary devotion and affection to Lakshmana’s relationship with Rama. The emotional bond between the brothers is an important element of the epic, and the casting works in its favour.

Ranbir Kapoor, meanwhile, delivers a mediocre performance. There is an understandable distinction between playing a contemporary dramatic character and portraying someone whose defining qualities include composure, righteousness and restraint.

Rama is not a character who requires constant emotional flamboyance. However, restraint also requires a certain depth of expression, and there are moments when Ranbir’s performance feels a little too measured.

He looks the part and brings a certain serenity to the character, but the emotional connection does not always develop with the intensity one would expect.

His performance is good in places, but not consistently compelling. The challenge is not simply to look divine; it is to make the audience understand the human emotions beneath that divinity.

Sai Pallavi’s (Sita) introduction and the subsequent meeting between Rama and Sita lead to the celebrated Swayamvaram sequence, where Rama lifts Shiva’s bow and wins her hand.

These are moments that audiences already know by heart, but their cinematic recreation is what matters.

The casting carries expectations, particularly because Sita is not simply a supporting presence in this epic.

Her character represents emotional strength, dignity and a substantial part of the narrative’s moral and philosophical complexity.

The film has an opportunity to explore these dimensions further as the story progresses.

The visual effects are considerably better than what some of the promotional material might have led audiences to anticipate.

Indian cinema has returned to the Ramayana on several occasions, and each generation has attempted to interpret the epic through its own cinematic vocabulary.

From Vijay Bhatt’s Ram Rajya (1943), starring Prem Adib and Shobhna Samarth, to Babubhai Mistry’s Sampoorna Ramayana (1961), featuring Mahipal and Anita Guha, filmmakers have repeatedly revisited this timeless narrative.

Mani Ratnam’s Raavan (2010), featuring Abhishek Bachchan, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan and Vikram, took a rather unconventional route by reimagining the epic through a contemporary setting and exploring the narrative from the perspective of its antagonist.

Om Raut’s Adipurush (2023), with Prabhas as Rama and Saif Ali Khan as Ravana, which attempted to give the mythology a contemporary, VFX-heavy treatment but ended up becoming one of the more disappointing cinematic adaptations of the epic, particularly because of its visual execution, dialogues and creative liberties.

Present Ramayana is different and its attempt to combine an expansive visual universe with a more elaborate character-building exercise, particularly in its portrayal of Ravana.

Unlike Adipurush, which struggled to establish credibility, this film demonstrates greater technical confidence and a more considered approach to production design.

However, that does not automatically make it a more accomplished adaptation. Its biggest challenge remains the same one that every filmmaker faces when approaching an epic of this magnitude, how to transform a story everyone knows into a cinematic experience that still feels fresh, emotionally engaging and worth revisiting.

The world-building, particularly the depiction of Lanka, demonstrates an evident investment in production design.

The scale, colour palette, elaborate environments and digitally constructed landscapes give the film a visual identity. Some of the creature designs, however, look less convincing and occasionally become distracting.

There is also an inconsistency in the visual treatment of different locations. Lanka receives a more distinctive architectural and atmospheric treatment, whereas Ayodhya sometimes appears comparatively generic.

A film of this magnitude needs more than expensive visual effects; it needs a coherent visual language that allows every location to possess its own character.

The VFX work deserves credit for attempting to construct an expansive mythological universe, but spectacle alone cannot substitute for cinematic texture.

At certain points, the artificiality of the digital backgrounds becomes noticeable, particularly when the lighting and physical presence of the performers do not completely blend with their surroundings.

Nevertheless, the film has several visually pleasing sequences, and the ambition behind its technical execution is evident.

The collaboration involving Hans Zimmer and A.R. Rahman brings an interesting musical dimension to the project.

There are sequences where the background score genuinely elevates the visual experience, lending grandeur and emotional weight to the proceedings.

At other moments, however, the music becomes excessively prominent. Instead of allowing a scene to develop through performance, silence or dialogue, the score occasionally attempts to dictate what the audience should feel.

A little more restraint would have made some of the emotional sequences considerably more effective.

The screenplay and editing remain the film’s more conspicuous shortcomings. There is an extraordinary amount of information to accommodate, and the film often appears reluctant to leave anything unexplained.

Characters narrate their circumstances, establish relationships and repeatedly communicate the significance of events.

Consequently, the storytelling sometimes becomes expository rather than experiential. We are told why something matters, but the film does not always allow us enough time to experience why it matters.

The transitions between important incidents can also feel abrupt, making the narrative resemble a sequence of isolated episodes rather than a continuous dramatic journey.

This is particularly noticeable because the Ramayana is already familiar to a substantial section of the audience.

The challenge for a filmmaker is not merely to reproduce the events in their chronological order. It is to rediscover the emotional and philosophical dimensions within those events.

A father’s heartbreak, a son’s obedience, the relationship between brothers, a woman’s dignity and the conflict between power and righteousness are not simply milestones in a mythological timeline.

They are human experiences. The film could have benefited from allowing these moments more breathing space instead of moving so quickly towards the next celebrated incident.

There is also an interesting contradiction in how the film approaches its two central figures. Ravana receives considerable narrative freedom, while Rama is presented with a more dramatic vocabulary.

Yash’s performance benefits from this freedom, whereas Ranbir’s character occasionally feels confined by the expectations surrounding his divinity.

It is a delicate creative challenge. When portraying revered mythological figures, filmmakers must balance familiarity with imagination.

Reverence should not become a limitation on character development. Even the most celebrated characters in an epic need moments of vulnerability, hesitation, conflict and emotional complexity to become compelling cinematic creations.

It has spectacular imagery, but not every spectacle is accompanied by an equally powerful emotional experience.

I went in with the expectation of watching a familiar story through a new cinematic interpretation.

The film certainly offers that in parts. But knowing the Ramayana and making audiences experience the Ramayana are two very different things.

The former is about narrating events; the latter is about creating an emotional investment in the people who inhabit those events. This film succeeds more consistently at the former than the latter.

An epic does not become extraordinary simply because it is presented on an enormous canvas. Its greatness lies in how deeply its characters, conflicts and emotions resonate with the audience.

Ramayana has the ingredients of a monumental cinematic experience, but somewhere along the way, it gets caught between being a grand film and an elaborate retelling of familiar chapters.

Timeline Verdict:

Visually ambitious, well-cast in important roles and carried by Yash’s commanding performance, but held back by an episodic screenplay, uneven editing and an emotional depth that does not always match its monumental scale.

Rating: 2.5/5

Cast: Ranbir Kapoor, Yash, Sai Pallavi, Ravi Dubey, Sunny Deol, Shobana, Arun Govil, Lara Dutta, Kajal Aggarwal, Vivek Oberoi, Rakul Preet Singh, Kunal Kapoor.

Crew:

Director: Nitesh Tiwari
Producers: Namit Malhotra, Yash
Screenplay: Shridhar Raghavan, Nitesh Tiwari
Cinematography: Pankaj Kumar, Mahesh Limaye
Music: A.R. Rahman, Hans Zimmer