Ramayana: Why Nitesh Tiwari’s two-part film has sparked a debate, divided viewers

With the Ram Mandir in Ayodhya now a physical reality, and political speeches invoking Ram Rajya every now and then, the Ramayana feels newly urgent. It evokes questions surrounding identity, leadership and cultural ownership at a moment when India is asserting itself globally while wrestling internally over how its foundational stories should be retold. Against that backdrop, Nitesh Tiwari’s two-part film Ramayana (reportedly the most expensive Indian film ever at Rs 4,000 crore or $500 million) is a high-stakes litmus test of whether we can hold on to the emotional intimacy that once made the story a shared, almost sacred, experience in living rooms across the country. Shot for IMAX, and with the muscle of global marketing and Hollywood-level VFX, will it dazzle and move us all over again or prove to be a damp squib?

Tiwari, who has directed emotionally precise films like Dangal and Chhichhore, has made it clear he wants the story to feel intimate even on an epic canvas. The screenplay, by Shridhar Raghavan (known for tight thrillers like War) and producer Namit Malhotra, is likely to draw faithfully from Valmiki while adding the kind of character shading Tiwari does best: Rama as Maryada Purushottam and an infallible deity, Sita as tremendously resilient, and Ravana as the evil known for his hubris. Part 1, due for release on Diwali, will probably concentrate on Rama’s early life in Ayodhya, his marriage to Sita, the palace politics that force their exile, and the forest odyssey ending with her abduction. Part 2, expected to release sometime in 2027, will shift to the Lanka war, Hanuman’s big leap, the building of the bridge across the ocean and Rama’s triumphant return.

An antidote to Adipurush?

Some critics have argued that the very fact that Malhotra — who has expressed views aligning with the nationalist narrative of the BJP, focusing on Indian cultural pride — is producing the film, says a lot about what kind of film it’s going to be. Malhotra has also praised Prime Minister Narendra Modi in the past, stating that since 2014, the West’s perception of India has changed for the better, and he has supported the idea of a “central government which is powerful” to bring different factions together. When the two-minute teaser dropped at IMAX events in Los Angeles and New York on March 31 — four days before it was released in India on Hanuman Jayanti — I watched the reactions split right down the middle.

Ranbir Kapoor appears as a long-haired, commanding Rama drawing his bow against sweeping golden vistas of Ayodhya and misty forests. There are quick flashes of ethereal Ashok Vatika, the Pushpaka vimana slicing through clouds, and Yash’s brooding Ravana. The VFX has been done by DNEG (Malhotra’s own Oscar-winning studio behind Dune: Part One & Two, Oppenheimer, Tenet, Blade Runner 2049, and Interstellar) and the score has been composed by Hans Zimmer and A.R. Rahman in their first-ever collaboration. Malhotra framed the LA-first strategy as sensible for a “global film” from day one, and given his background running Prime Focus and DNEG, it aligns with his long-standing push to put Indian cinema on Hollywood’s terms, now supercharged by AI. He has described the project as largely self-funded to protect creative freedom and suggested that Western approval will be one important yardstick of success.

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I understand why that approach has struck a nerve. Social media is filled with genuine frustration: why does a story millions still treat as sacred history need overseas validation before its own people get the first proper look? Accusations of “NRI pandering” and “cultural disrespect” have followed, and Malhotra’s response — “Don’t divide… there are Indians all over the world… one Ramayana” — was meant to bridge gaps but came across to many as missing the anxiety about ownership. Tools like Brahma AI can help DNEG deliver never-before-seen world-building, but they also invite scepticism about whether the end result will appeal to Indian audiences or be algorithmically optimised for global viewers.

Malhotra’s position makes him the natural focal point of that scepticism. His track record delivering VFX for Brahmāstra: Part One – Shiva, the first instalment in a planned trilogy within the Astraverse cinematic universe, directed by Ayan Mukerji, gives him undeniable technical credibility. However, it also invites questions about whether the massive budget is truly translating into something Indian audiences will lap up the same way they did the TV series, especially when AI is part of the toolkit.

The scrutiny over the teaser has inevitably revived memories of Adipurush’s fiasco and the protests that followed. Directed by Om Raut and starring Prabhas as Raghav (Rama), Kriti Sanon as Janaki (Sita), Saif Ali Khan as Lankesh (Ravana), and Sunny Singh as Shesh (Lakshmana), with Devdutta Nage playing Bajrang (Hanuman), the film was a major box office flop. Made on a massive reported budget of over Rs 500 crore, it faced backlash for its poor visual effects, inaccurate character depictions, and, most notably, “tapori” (street-style) dialogues deemed disrespectful to the Ramayana. The screenplay and dialogue, written by Manoj Muntashir Shukla, received criticism for using atrocious language for Hanuman: “Kapda tere baap ka, aag tere baap ki, tel tere baap ka, jalegi bhi teri baap ki. (Clothes are your father’s, the fire is your father’s, the oil is your father’s, and what burns will also be your father’s).

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Tiwari and Malhotra have positioned their film as the antidote to Adipurush. Still, with reported fees reaching Rs 150 crore for Ranbir across both parts and big numbers for Yash (who is also co-producing as Ravana), the optics matter. I keep coming back to the same question: will the finished film look and feel like the money — and the AI — was spent on soul as much as spectacle? Ranbir Kapoor, at this stage in his career, especially after his turn in Animal, brings the star presence that could make Rama feel both divine and relatable. Sai Pallavi’s grounded expressiveness seems perfect for Sita, a woman of strength and not just passive victimhood. Yash’s intensity should make Ravana a worthy adversary, Sunny Deol’s physicality fits Hanuman’s energy, and Ravi Dubey as Lakshmana, plus Arun Govil’s return as Dasharatha (a lovely nod to the TV era I remember so fondly) add layers of familiarity.

A singular, unifying experience?

The Zimmer-Rahman score could be the standout element if it clicks. Production has involved years of pre-visualisation, massive soundstages and international locations, with Brahma AI applied to mythological details like flying vimanas. The teaser, though, has left many disappointed. After Adipurush, Indian audiences are right to demand a certain level of care, especially when AI’s involvement raises the bar for transparency. The Rs 4,000-crore budget and AI-assisted VFX are uncharted territories for the Ramayana. If the film succeeds, it could open the door for more high-end mythological cinema drawn from the Puranas or Mahabharata, normalising world-class production values while keeping the ethical core intact. It might also strengthen India’s soft power abroad, proving ancient epics can stand alongside Dune or The Lord of the Rings on technical merit without losing their moral voice.

Tiwari’s grounded sensibility could be the safeguard here; he has spoken movingly about the seven-year journey feeling “worth it”, which suggests a personal stake in getting the tone right. Financially, the pressure is enormous. Conservative estimates suggest Part 1 needs several hundred crores domestically just to justify the outlay, with overseas theatrical, streaming and ancillaries (merchandise, possible theme-park tie-ins) expected to deliver the real upside. Malhotra has maintained the budget is competitive with similar Western epics, but the largely self-funded model makes questions about risk and returns worth asking. If the film connects emotionally and visually, it could launch a franchise; if VFX or tonal issues go wrong, the film could also sink.

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Ramayana will deliver scale and star power, no question, but the better measure will be whether it makes the epic feel urgent and alive in the India of 2026 the way those old Doordarshan episodes once did, even as AI has changed the way we create such worlds. Can it remind us why Rama’s choices still matter in an age of shortcuts? Can it portray Sita’s strength without reducing her to a trope? Will Ravana’s defeat land as a moral victory rather than just another CGI (or AI-enhanced) climax? Tiwari’s track record tells me he understands emotional stakes; Malhotra’s global resources, now including AI innovation, give him the tools to match them.

The teaser’s mixed reception shows the bar is high and the scrutiny intense. When Part 1 lands this Diwali, it won’t be judged solely on numbers or effects, but weighed against the Ramayana’s enduring place in our collective memory, the same story that once emptied streets on Sunday mornings and to many of us still offers guidance through life’s ups and downs. In that sense, the film’s real budget isn’t rupees or dollars but the trust of millions who grew up believing in its lessons. If it honours that trust, it could become more than a blockbuster.

The Ramayana has a long history of retellings that people feel a sense of ownership over. However, in today’s climate, where the figure of Ram is not just sacred but also politically invoked ad nauseam, any new interpretation of the epic enters a contested space. We have already seen how the phrase “Jai Shri Ram” has been used by the Hindu Right as a marker of political identity and as a tool to assert political positions and counter opponents, often forced upon people of other faiths in situations of intimidation. Thus, while adapting the Ramayana today, a filmmaker also has to deftly navigate belief, expectation, and a public that is quick to take offence and equally quick to defend. In that sense, if Ramayana, the film, does find a place in the public imagination, it is unlikely to do so as a singular, unifying experience.