Kesari Chapter 2: The Untold Story of Jallianwala Bagh has moments that glimmer with potential, especially in its ambitious courtroom drama and powerful premise. Yet, these strengths remain largely at the surface. The film, which revisits the efforts of Sir Chettur Sankaran Nair to hold the British Empire accountable for the horrific Jallianwala Bagh massacre, is presented with visual flair and cinematic polish—but lacks the nuanced storytelling this chapter of history deserves.
Casting Akshay Kumar as the erudite and culturally rooted Sankaran Nair is an attempt to give the film star power, but it comes at the cost of authenticity. Kumar, though earnest in his effort, never quite fits into the mold of the historical figure he portrays. The script introduces Nair as a scholar trained in traditional martial arts and classical dance, but these cultural markers are never woven meaningfully into the character’s journey or personality.
Rather than delve into the complex political and ideological evolution of Nair—a man who was not only a legal luminary but also a Congress leader and vocal nationalist—the film chooses a narrower, simpler arc. It depicts him as a loyalist at first, enjoying the privileges of British favor, until personal tragedy and exposure to racial humiliation catalyze his transformation into a rebel figure. This pivot, while dramatic, feels rushed and underdeveloped.
The narrative centers almost entirely on a courtroom confrontation between Nair and Neville Mckinley (played by R. Madhavan), a worn-out Anglo-Indian lawyer with a drinking problem, pulled in to defend the British establishment. Despite Madhavan’s compelling presence, the character doesn’t get the depth needed to truly challenge the protagonist. Meanwhile, other roles—such as Tirath Singh (Amit Sial), the manipulative aide to the British governor—linger without clear arcs or resolution.
Historical context takes a backseat. Beyond fleeting mentions of the Rowlatt Act and anti-colonial protests, the script barely touches on the broader implications of the massacre or Nair’s real-life contributions to India’s freedom struggle. The film even omits key facts, like his prominent role in the Indian National Congress, leaving a gaping hole in its biographical portrait.
There’s an attempt to inject emotional weight through a subplot involving a young massacre survivor, Pargat Singh (Krish Rao), who seeks justice. His interaction with Nair brings some of the film’s most powerful tension, but these moments are few and far between. Ananya Panday’s character, a young lawyer who reveres Nair, acts as a supporting force in his transformation—but her admiration seems unjustified given the film’s own portrayal of Nair’s initial stance.
The film flirts with themes that could’ve grounded it in contemporary relevance—media control, state propaganda, and legal injustice—but treats them too lightly to leave an impact. Dialogue hints at the legal system’s failure to pursue truth over victory, yet the plot remains formulaic, climaxing with a predictable finale that arrives two hours too late.
R. Madhavan’s late but significant presence offers a brief spark in the second half, but he’s never given enough substance to rival Kumar’s screen time. Non-Indian actors portraying British officials feel out of place, struggling with extensive Hindi lines that rob their performances of naturalism.
Despite its flaws, Kesari Chapter 2 benefits from Akshay Kumar’s committed performance. He throws himself into the role, even if he isn’t the right fit. But as a historical film, it trades complexity for spectacle. It’s Bollywood’s version of history: more show than substance, more courtroom drama than cultural insight.
