Ramayana: Part 1
Nitesh Tiwari’s monumental mythological epic
₹2,000 Crore
India’s most expensive cinematic production
Zimmer & Rahman
Iconic musical collaboration
Diwali 2028
Part 2 release window
Nitesh Tiwari’s Ramayana: Part 1 (internationally titled Ramayana: Rise of a Legend), which arrived in theaters on November 5, 2026, is a watershed moment for Indian cinema—both in its staggering financial ambition and its determination to translate Valmiki’s timeless epic for a global IMAX audience. Mounted on a reported ₹2,000 crore budget with visual effects overseen by Oscar-winning studio DNEG, the film carries the immense burden of cultural reverence alongside sky-high commercial expectations. Over its 195-minute runtime, Tiwari delivers a visually arresting, reverential spectacle that largely succeeds as an immersive theatrical event, even if its reverence occasionally holds it back from raw emotional spontaneity.
Narrative Scope and Screenplay
Adapted by Nitesh Tiwari and Shridhar Raghavan, Part 1 covers the foundational arc of the epic: Rama’s youth and training under Sage Vishvamitra, his marriage to Sita, the palace intrigue in Ayodhya that leads to his fourteen-year exile, life in the Dandaka forest, and the pivotal abduction of Sita by Ravana—the cliffhanger upon which the film concludes.
Because the narrative is essentially a setup for the grand war in Ramayana: Part 2 (slated for Diwali 2028), the screenplay prioritizes world-building and exposition over relentless action. In the first half, the pacing feels somewhat episodic, moving methodically from one canonical milestone to the next—a structure that honors the oral tradition of the source text but occasionally flattens dramatic tension into an “and then” progression. Tiwari plays it safe, favoring an authoritative, classical tone over bold narrative reinterpretation. While this guarantees broad accessibility and avoids controversy, the film’s strict adherence to divinity sometimes creates an emotional distance, leaving the audience admiring the characters from afar rather than weeping with them.
Performances: Restraint Meets Roar
The central triad of Ranbir Kapoor, Sai Pallavi, and Yash anchors the film with contrasting acting styles that define its rhythm.
- Ranbir Kapoor as Rama (and Parashurama): Kapoor approaches Rama with radical stillness. Rather than playing the prince of Ayodhya with melodramatic flourishes, he embodies Maryada Purushottam through quiet composure, soft-spoken dignity, and internalized emotion. Critics and viewers have noted that his stoic demeanor occasionally borders on aloofness during quieter domestic scenes, yet this restraint pays dividends when his composure finally cracks—such as during the tempestuous sequence in the forest and the agonizing realization of Sita’s abduction. In a compelling dual turn, Kapoor also appears as Parashurama, bringing a fierce, ascetic intensity that sharply contrasts with Rama’s serene grace.
- Sai Pallavi as Sita: Pallavi is the emotional heartbeat of the film. Far from a passive damsel, her Sita is written and performed with quiet steel, moral clarity, and agency. Whether navigating the comforts of Mithila or embracing the hardships of forest exile without a shred of self-pity, Pallavi infuses every frame with warmth and conviction, grounding the mythological grandeur in recognizable human resilience.
- Yash as Ravana: If Kapoor provides the film’s calm center, Yash supplies its volcanic energy. Making a commanding entrance, Yash portrays the Demon King of Lanka not as a one-dimensional monster, but as an arrogant, scholarly, and terrifyingly charismatic conqueror. Aided in the Hindi version by Sharad Kelkar’s thunderous voice dubbing, Yash dominates every scene he occupies. The visual conceptualization of Ravana’s ten heads—manifesting dynamically during moments of rage and strategic calculation—is one of the film’s sharpest creative triumphs.
Among the sprawling ensemble cast, Ravi Dubey brings earnest loyalty to Lakshmana, Arun Govil lends poignant meta-textual weight as King Dasharatha, and Lara Dutta is sharp as a conflicted Kaikeyi. Sunny Deol makes a late, crowd-rousing cameo as Hanuman, offering a tantalizing glimpse of the physical power and devotion that will take center stage in the sequel.
Visual Craft, Action, and Score
Visually, Ramayana: Part 1 sets a new benchmark for Indian fantasy filmmaking. Cinematographers Pankaj Kumar and Mahesh Limaye frame Ayodhya’s sunlit marble architecture, the lush, mist-drenched forests of Panchavati, and the golden, monolithic fortress of Lanka with sweeping IMAX scale. DNEG’s visual effects are largely seamless; the design of the Pushpaka Vimana and the tragic, soaring aerial sequence involving Jatayu (voiced by Anupam Kher) stand out as technical marvels. While a handful of wide digital crowd shots briefly slip into an artificial, video-game sheen, the tactile production design and intricate costumes keep the world grounded.
Action directors Terry Notary and Guy Norris wisely avoid turning Rama into an invincible superhero. The combat is visceral and mortal—arrows carry weight, hand-to-hand skirmishes feel exhausting, and the climactic aerial confrontation between Ravana and Jatayu is staged with breathtaking spatial clarity.
The musical collaboration between Hans Zimmer and A. R. Rahman is ambitious, blending Zimmer’s booming brass and percussive momentum with Rahman’s classical Indian instrumentation and choral arrangements. While the background score elevates the battle sequences and title moments to operatic heights, it occasionally feels more atmospheric than melodic, lacking the instantly hummable leitmotifs one might expect from two titans of film music.
The Verdict
Ramayana: Part 1 is an awe-inspiring feat of scale, devotion, and technical polish. It stumbles slightly under the weight of its own exposition and an overly cautious approach to character psychology, prioritizing mythic grandeur over messy human vulnerability. Yet, bolstered by Yash’s magnetic villainy, Sai Pallavi’s luminous grace, and a third act that surges with kinetic energy, Nitesh Tiwari has built an extraordinary foundation. It is a spectacle built explicitly for the largest screen possible, leaving audiences genuinely invested in the titanic clash to come.
