Historical dramas are meant to dramatize facts. Propaganda flicks pick sides. Kesari Chapter 2: The Untold Story of Jallianwala Bagh invents a whole new genre—the historical fantasy masquerading as fact. Anchored by Akshay Kumar and R Madhavan, the film takes broad creative liberties, turning a sensitive chapter of Indian history into a fictional courtroom drama that never took place.
Akshay Kumar plays a cinematic version of C. Sankaran Nair, the celebrated lawyer and former member of the Viceroy’s Council. In this fictional retelling, Nair, haunted by the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, decides to sue the British Empire in an Amritsar courtroom. He’s joined by Dilreet Singh (Ananya Panday), a spirited young lawyer from Punjab, while R Madhavan plays the vengeful British attorney Neville McKinley. What follows is a loud, predictable courtroom clash that bears little resemblance to the real events—or real people—involved.
The film claims to be inspired by The Case That Shook the Empire, which chronicles Nair’s real-life defense in a defamation case filed by Michael O’Dwyer in London. That case was rooted in Nair’s critique of colonial brutality, particularly O’Dwyer’s role in Punjab’s repression. However, Kesari Chapter 2 swaps out O’Dwyer for Reginald Dyer (perhaps the makers got confused?), and fabricates a fictional genocide case filed in Amritsar—something that never happened.
Even setting historical accuracy aside, the film falters on dramatic grounds. Akshay’s Nair is portrayed as an all-knowing superhero: brilliant in court, skilled in Kalaripayattu, and somehow also a Kathakali expert—though his accent betrays no trace of Kerala. It’s less a portrayal of Nair, more Akshay playing Akshay with a side of patriotism.
Madhavan initially brings some bite to McKinley, channeling the menace of his Shaitaan persona, but even that fizzles into caricature. Ananya Panday’s Dilreet exists more as a feminist soundbite than a fleshed-out character. Her sharpest line—“Doesn’t your England have queens?”—is the height of her arc.
The courtroom sequences lack originality. The climactic cross-examination echoes A Few Good Men, but without the tension or payoff. Akshay drops F-bombs that feel more desperate than impactful, and the jingoism is ladled on without subtlety.
A disclaimer at the start warns viewers not to expect historical fidelity, and legally, that might be enough. Ethically, however, it’s worrying. Turning one of colonial India’s darkest moments into a courtroom spectacle without historical basis isn’t just artistic liberty—it’s narrative manipulation.
A line in the film says, “Arts don’t run a nation.” True. But let’s hope a nation doesn’t run its arts solely on manufactured pride.
