Whenever filmmakers have made the concerted effort to base a film on the real life story of a historical icon, no matter what the cultural context, the mantra of the medium has always been “Know the history, but print the legend.” Popular myths combine with historical accounts to produce a curious amalgam of art and fact designed to educate and entertain. The sacred code has been upheld faithfully in Santosh Sivan’s latest directorial venture, Asoka, a historical bio-epic that traces one man’s journey from ruthless wager of wars to enlightened Buddhist missionary.

Asoka (played stoically by Shah Rukh Khan) is the young emperor of India whose ascent to the throne is punctuated with internal hatred and lust for absolute authority. Asoka’s sovereignty is challenged not only by his stepbrother Susima, the would-be emperor, but also by his own admissions of his inability to understand mortal phenomena. Asoka lives and thrives by might, extinguishing opponents and conflicts without regard for the consequences of his actions and orders. This underlying yearning for humanistic realization is the film’s primary object of examination, dominating the sometimes lucid and always sordid events comprising the young monarch’s path to enlightenment.

As dictated by his fearful mother, Maharani Dharma (Subhashini Ali), Asoka sheds his title and identity to travel his kingdom unhindered, calling himself Pawan and posing as a man whose affairs are of the ordinary sort. The first affair to come along is in the form of a formidable but beautiful warrior princess of Kalinga, Kaurwaki (a scintillating Kareena Kapoor) who has been exiled from her kingdom with her younger brother Arya, an emperor-in-waiting, whose life is threatened by usurpers. Resisting the protective guardianship of the soldier Bheema (Rahul Dev), Kaurwaki submits to her passions and marries the masquerading Asoka. Immediately, the newly wed couple is forced to separate when Asoka is summoned back to his palatial haven. His brief absence translates into a murderous hunt for Kaurwaki and Arya, pursued by the henchmen of those who have hijacked the throne of Kalinga. An amazingly dreadful sacrifice takes place, and Kaurwaki and Arya are saved.

Upon his return, Asoka is delivered the cruel and false revelation that Kaurwaki and Arya have been slain; devastated, he resigns himself to a life without love and directs his efforts to territorial conquest and political supremacy. He weds a pacifist disciple of the Lord Buddha, Devi, played by Hrishita Bhatt, but cares little for her unassuming devotion and desire. He becomes fixated on establishing an authoritarian dynasty, and eventually wages war with the Kingdom of Kalinga. Kaurwaki, still hopeful of reuniting with her forsaken Pawan, meets the onslaught of war with a fierce and intrepid determination to destroy any threat raised against Kalinga. The war materializes, and the two sides collide into a bloody massacre that simultaneously gives rise to Kaurwaki’s greatest hope and fear: Pawan lives, but as the leader of the effort designed to destroy her and her people. Her ordinary lover has converted into a ruthless, bloodthirsty warrior king who cannot recognize his greatest love amidst the violence he has spawned.

Ever faithful to the maxim “Know the history, but print the legend”, Sivan designs his film as one that looks acutely at the destructive ascension of Asoka to the throne of Magadha, thereby functioning as a tale of espionage, betrayal, and finally redemption. Quite like Shekhar Kapur’s antecedent bio-epic Elizabeth, Asoka follows the embattled monarch on a journey of external and internal deceit, as one who is thwarted at every step and turn by an endless barrage of attempted subversions. That Asoka should survive every attempt on his life only to endure the most self-effacing of realizations forms the emotional crux of the film. His efforts have been for naught, as they have brought him nothing but the collective horrors of death, pain, and suffering. Confronted with a massacre wrought only by his command, Asoka embraces the pacifist moral code of Buddhism, thereby becoming the devotee of an ideology he spurned so ferociously. Sivan effectively uses the backdrop of an individual life story to tell an anti-war tale. Sivan’s direction is commanding, and the script for which he is given co-credit works ably in constructing the story to its desired end.

In terms of its individual merits, one must admit that Shah Rukh Khan is an unlikely choice for the title role. Given the complexity and context of the character, one might assume that an actor like Manoj Bajpai would have been a preferable choice. Regardless, Shah Rukh inhabits the legendary Asoka with consummate ease, forsaking his trademark stylistic mode of performing for one that embraces the rich characterization he has been gifted by both the director and history itself. Khan’s interpretation of the character skillfully communicates the inner turmoil of a man perpetually on the crux of greatness, only to be bogged down with the weight of emotional immaturity and material values. As Asoka, Khan delivers his most memorable performance since his brilliant cameo in last year’s Hey Ram! (incidentally, another pacifist film) and proves he can give form to taut histrionics even within the most fluid of genres. His bold performance is supplemented by the fact that as co-producer of the film (for which he shares credit with Juhi Chawla) he has ventured where few in his position would dare to go: in this age of non-dramatic musical love stories, a historical biography on a Buddhist emperor predating the modern era is a bold subject choice indeed.

Khan’s histrionics aside, if Asoka boasts of a great performance, it is that of Kareena Kapoor. She is absolutely exquisite as Kaurwaki, a fearless woman ravaged by devotion to the dynasty from which she is expelled and the lover from which she is separated. Kareena plays the headstrong yet vulnerable princess brilliantly, instilling her performances with a command and grit unmatched by any other performer in the film. The role of Kaurwaki is a demanding one: more so than the standard requirements of beauty and dance, she is called upon to display emotional complexity and brutal physicality with a passionate vigor. As such, she electrifies the screen with her awesome presence, from the moment she is introduced in “San Sana Nana” where her body language is at once masculine and sexually charged to the climactic battle where she is reunited with her beloved Pawan. This is the most physically defined role for an actress since Bandit Queen, though it rightly lends itself to comparison against the tribal Afghani queen of Khudah Gawah. The highly raw emotion generated during Kaurwaki’s abortive movements toward Asoka in battle is dependent entirely upon Kareena’s facial and body language. She conveys brilliantly the futility of her love story, collapsing we suspect not out of the physical abuses of war she endures, but the emotional disbelief at the sight of her beloved so engulfed by violent blood lust. Kaurwaki becomes violent only when she and hers are under attack (i.e. Arya, the Kalinga people), and where Asoka lives by the sword, Kaurwaki has chosen to ensure either his or her demise. In the end, she cannot save the one to whom she has sworn allegiance, and even her wounds are meaningless.

The supporting cast is likewise inspired in their respective portrayals, notably Hrishita Bhatt and Rahul Dev. As Bheema, Dev gives voice to the frustration of having been designated to protect and serve a juvenile prince and stubbornly arrogant princess. He fulfills his task dutifully, though standing as a protective barrier between Kaurwaki and Pawan. Bhatt makes a majestic debut as Devi, and if this performance is any indication she will be one to watch out for. Danny Denzongapa, Johnny Lever, and Subhashini Ali lend able support.

Musically, the film is a triumph, especially the poignant “Roshni Se” and the rhythmic “Raat Ka Nasha”. Anu Malik has come up with a truly laudable score in tandem with Gulzar’s lyrics. “Roshni Se” is given a magnificent picturisation, with the earth and its elements becoming animate within the passion that binds Kaurwaki and her Prince. The musical interludes themselves feel a little jerky in their insertion within the narrative, particularly “O Re Kaanchi”, but generally help to move things along.

Asoka is perhaps the first anti-violence film made in India that is not derived from the life of Gandhi or the Kashmir conflict. It makes no assumptions of its own importance, either to the ideology of pacifism or the spread of the Buddhist faith, but presents the story of a legend in a format that is both reverent to history and popular myth. In terms of contemporary cinema, it marks an artistic milestone. In terms of collective cinematic consciousness, it is a classic in the waiting.