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Why Kalki 2898 AD falls into the same screenwriting pitfalls as other Indian films

SPOILERS - Please note that this article contains spoilers for the film Kalki 2898 AD. This article also deals with just the film's screenplay and is not a review of the movie in general. 

Two weeks ago, we posted an article titled “Three Most Common Mistakes Found in Indian Movie Screenplays,” and today we regret to report that Kalki 2898 AD has made all three of them. While we appreciated the fantastic visuals, star cast, performances, and grand vision, we also cringed as we watched the screenplay unfold.

The film has its rewards; the visual effects alone deserve a standing ovation. Additionally, the movie is a breakthrough in terms of ambition for Indian cinema. The technically well-executed filmmaking, casting, and gratifying action sequences make the film eminently watchable.

However, the story, screenplay, plot, world-building, and character arcs suffer badly in comparison. When we posted our article two weeks ago, we identified the following three common mistakes in Indian movie screenplays: poor structure, failure to “cut your darlings,” and a lack of a tonally and emotionally consistent resolution. These are the same three cardinal sins ‘Kalki 2898 AD’ has committed.

There was no structure to the unfolding of the narrative. It was disheartening to see the film as a disjointed string of scenes without a plot, emotional throughline, or even an interesting treatment to mask the obvious flaws in the writing. This significantly affected the audience’s reaction, as there was no rising action or stakes for the characters to keep us on the edge of our seats. Each action sequence was spectacularly shot and edited but lacked real consequences for the characters or emotional impact on the audience.

The world-building was the most egregiously irrational part of the entire narrative. While efforts had been made to construct real vehicles and exo-suits for the action sequences, everyday consistency was lacking. For instance, if all the fertile women are being taken into the complex, how is the population still sustainable, and how are there child characters throughout the film? Furthermore, there was no effort to make the language futuristic. It is comical, to say the least, that the characters in this dystopian world speak exactly like we do in 2024.

If the absence of a plot and substandard world-building were not jarring enough, the complete disregard for character motivation and consistency added insult to injury. The protagonist, rather than peripheral characters, was the primary victim of this narrative crime, weakening the film further. Prabhas Bhairava’s attachment to his AI car was never explained, leaving us to wonder why this was the fulcrum of the character’s motivation. More importantly, Bhairava’s driving motivation throughout the film was strangely never clarified. Why, oh why, does he want to get into the complex so badly?

The most unacceptable sin was the final character revelation during the climax, where we learn that Prabhas Bhairava is supposed to be the reincarnation or embodiment of Karna from the Mahabharata. Throughout the film, Bhairava is repeatedly described as selfish, a trait historically never associated with Karna. Additionally, there is a blind, almost wilful disregard for the archetype of  Karna. He is neither a good friend nor a righteous son but selfish and vain. When the filmmaker finally reveals that Bhairava is supposed to be Karna, it is hard to believe such an equation could be made without remorse. Even if we generously assume Bhairava is unaware of his identity, there is no correlation between what the filmmaker portrays for three hours and the mythological idea of Karna.

If we move away from the failings in story and character consistency, we encounter the filmmaker’s indulgences in screenplay writing. “Cut your darlings” is a phrase the writers seem to have either never heard or have been pressured into ignoring by external forces. The first act is resplendent with scenes that slow the film’s progression. When we first meet Prabhas’s Bhairava or Disha Patani’s Roxie, the scenes are unnecessarily long and tonally deviate from the film’s narrative flow. The whole episode of Bhairava and Roxie entering and exploring the complex is so jarring in tone and context that it makes that part of the film surreal to watch, and not in a good way.

The action sequences are the worst offenders, with their length and logical fallacies detracting from the otherwise amazing visual effects and choreography. There was no need for so many “walking out of smoke” or “rising from the rubble” shots unless otherwise to showcase the visual effects technician’s compositing skills. The dragging quality of the fight sequences slowed down the urgency and stakes of the fights, which was a shame, as they might have added real value to the story had they been cut down in length.

The climax sequence of the film suffered from two shortcomings: the lack of urgency in the fight between Prabhas’s Bhairava and Amitabh’s Ashwathama, and the tonal variance from minute to minute. As the fight unfolds, Bhairava and Ashwathama appear equally matched, which is surprising given that Ashwathama is an immortal warrior and Bhairava is a selfish mercenary. This contrasts with their previous confrontation, where Ashwathama easily defeated Bhairava. Perhaps the exposition of Bhairava as Karna was meant to justify this sudden change, but as mentioned above, Bhairava was not a reasonable facsimile of Karna.

The tone of the climax sequence swung like a pendulum, shifting from dramatic to comedic to action-packed. We see Deepika’s Sumathy fear her own recapture by the complex, Bhairava’s comical exasperation at his inability to best Ashwathama, and the intense no-holds-barred fight between the two respectively. This tonal inconsistency prevents us from arriving at and experiencing one single prevailing emotion. This in turn leads to a lack of deep emotional impact when Ashwathama loses and Bhairava escapes with his charge at the end of the film.

After watching the film, we were left with two questions. Was this intended to follow the Indian mainstream movie formula? And was it possibly edited down from a larger narrative? Even if both answers were yes, we still couldn’t overlook the screenplay’s flaws. Masala films adhere to clear rules regarding the placement of fight scenes and song sequences, rules this film did not follow. Instead of enhancing established emotions, the song sequences here often detracted from the emotional throughline. 

Even if the film was hastily assembled from a longer narrative, originally meant to be a single cohesive event rather than split into two or more parts, it wouldn’t excuse the glaring flaws in world-building, character motivation, and consistency that plagued the entire film.

Therefore, we left the film disappointed with its screenplay, especially since it repeated the same predictable mistakes as many other Indian films. We wait for the second part of the movie and hope it will redeem both itself and its predecessor.