The opening of Chhaava pretty much sets the way it would continue for the rest of its two-hour-40-minute runtime — a group of brave Maratha warriors in battle, led by Vicky Kaushal’s Chhatrapati Sambhaji Raje, lopping off heads and limbs in an over-choreographed slo-mo fight sequence.

For most part Chhaava, directed by Laxman Utekar, feels like a patchwork quilt, with some narrative threads stitching together one battle sequence after another. Not that Kaushal doesn’t look fabulous while jumping through the air, slitting throats and showing feats of incredible strength in slow motion, hair flying and his teeth bared in a war cry. But that is not enough to keep your attention from straying as one battle bleeds into another and the bodies pile up.

In between the fight sequences, we are told the story of Chhatrapati Sambhaji Maharaj, whose presence in history is overshadowed by that of his father, Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj. However, unexplained time jumps make it difficult to follow.

Emperor Aurangzeb (an unrecognisable Akshaye Khanna) is delighted to hear of the death of Chhatrapati Shivaji, anticipating the end of his troubles in conquering the Deccan, only to be told that his eldest son, Sambhaji, was proving to be a greater menace. Sambhaji wants to work towards achieving Shivaji’s dream of Swaraj and is keen to cause the fall of the Mughal empire. In this he is supported by a close few, including his maternal uncle Hambirao Mohite (Asutosh Rana) and his poet friend Kavi Kalash (Vineet Kumar Singh), among others.

Sambhaji’s fiercest champion is his wife Yesubai (Rashmika Mandanna). Of course there are conspirators working against him and they eventually betray him, leading to his capture, torture and death at the hands of Aurangzeb (this is not a spoiler, it is history).

The action set pieces are often choreographed to the extent that there is very little variety except in terms of place and mode of attack (a few of them are pretty good). If there was a drinking game where one had to drink every time Kaushal is shown fighting in slo-mo with his teeth bared in a battle cry, then people would be rolling out of the movie hall. The violence is pretty intense, too, with each slit throat and chopped limb being shown in gory detail. The torture scene in the climax could rival the flaying of Jesus Christ in Mel Gibson’s Passion of Christ. Chhaava definitely is not for the faint-hearted.

What Chhaava lacks is emotional heft. Mandanna as Sambhaji’s wife is meant to be his emotional connect but it doesn’t really gel. The film barely touches upon the pressure of having to carry forward the mantle of a much-loved and honoured father. It skims over Sambhaji’s feelings about his stepmother Soyarabai’s (Divya Dutta) hatred and his step-brother’s adulation. There are too few scenes with his men-in-arms for even that to have a significant impact, except for Singh as the friend and Rana as the uncle, and that’s thanks to their acting.

Kaushal is magnetic as the roaring lion cub (‘chhaava’ means lion cub). His commitment to his craft is one of the main things keeping this film from being totally exhausting. His eyes speak volumes and he exudes the presence such a character should have. Mandanna once again plays the supportive wife of a powerful man. She tries but doesn’t have any chemistry with Kaushal, limiting her impact.

The show-stealer surprisingly is Akshaye Khanna as Aurangzeb. Barely recognisable under all the prosthetics, he doesn’t have too many dialogues but the menace and cold cruelty that he exudes just using his body language, his eyes and his walk is phenomenal. I would rather watch Khanna and Kaushal in a battle of will power than another battle sequence in slo-mo. Diana Penty looks pretty in period costume as Aurangzeb’s mostly-mute daughter (still can’t figure out why she is there in the film).

Chhaava is also very loud with the background score, done by A.R. Rahman, often drowning out dialogues and making it even more difficult to forge an emotional connect. That is not to say that Chhaava is unwatchable. It is watchable, for Kaushal alone. He never disappoints — whether he is roaring in battle, joking with his comrades, or romancing Mandanna. And while it doesn’t dazzle, Chhaava has enough masala to justify a trek to the movie hall. Just make sure you have the stomach for the gore.