Thought Factory

THOUGHT FACTORY: STARDOM & SPECTACLE IN NAYA BHARAT

by Sharad Raj March 26 2025, 12:00 am Estimated Reading Time: 9 mins, 8 secs

In today’s Naya Bharat, actors trade craft for stardom, embracing regressive blockbusters and right-wing narratives, while genuine talent and storytelling quietly exit through the side door of cinema’s conscience. Sharad Raj shares his views…

In Naya Bharat’s evolving cinematic landscape, Bollywood stars increasingly pursue fame through regressive films filled with hypermasculinity, jingoism, and VFX spectacle, sidelining nuanced acting and meaningful storytelling. This in-depth critique explores how once-celebrated talents—from Ranbir Kapoor and Shahid Kapoor to Vicky Kaushal—have embraced Faustian bargains to remain relevant in a star-obsessed industry. With Animal, Chaava, and other blockbusters setting new box office records despite their troubling themes, the article questions the cost of stardom and what it means for the future of Indian cinema, cultural values, and a generation caught in the ideological tide of right-wing populism.

The Hindi film industry has very few actors—or even actor-stars—like Al Pacino, Jack Nicholson, Robert De Niro, Meryl Streep, Brando, Frances McDormand, et al. The ones who are tremendous actors are, more often than not, the ones who do not set the box office on fire. Hence, they are either used sparingly by the so-called middle-of-the-road filmmakers, independent filmmakers, or—as the film industry condescendingly refers to them—“the film festival filmmakers.” Most of the time, they are either in character roles or play villains in mainstream films.

Most people joining the film industry want to be stars. I have yet to hear anyone talk to the media about their acting skills or the challenges involved in playing a role. Is there an interview of Amitabh Bachchan that talks solely about what made the difference in Deewar as an actor—something that wasn’t there, say, in Gehri Chaal?

Dilip Kumar is the only star-actor I have heard speak about the “art of acting.” All that Shah Rukh Khan says is that he is not an actor, but a star—Nawazuddin is. But what does he actually mean by that? And why is he so proud of it?

What is this facile tag of “Mr. Perfectionist” attached to Aamir Khan when, in his own words, he was the weakest link in Lagaan? How does he define perfectionism? To me, if I watch all his dim-witted interviews, it seems that for Aamir, perfectionism is also in the service of his stardom.

As for the behind-the-scenes insecurities of these stars—I don’t even want to mention them here. It pains me to see a competent actor like Rajkummar Rao say in his interviews that all he ever wanted to be was Shah Rukh Khan. Is it boring to talk about how he approaches his roles and his growth as an actor?

Stardom is all the actors seem to aspire to—their non-acting notwithstanding. With the Khans ruling the better part of the 21st century, it was a tall order for Hrithik, Shahid, and later Ranbir Kapoor and Ranveer Singh. All four are fine actors, but that alone does not make them happy—and it is not entirely their fault either. Ranbir tried with some good choices like Rocket Singh, but most of his decisions boomeranged. Ranveer was luckier in that sense. By the time they could rise and shine, the next crop of actors had already appeared on the horizon—Vicky Kaushal, Ayushmann Khurrana, and Rajkummar Rao, among others.

Since Hindi films are unfortunately male-dominated and driven by male stars, they are mentioned more often than women actors. But rising stars like Rashmika Mandanna and Kiara Advani are equally part of the stardom syndrome. Not to forget Tripti Dimri in Animal—as much as I like her.  

In the earlier years, if an actor flopped, there was no recourse except to wait until one got a hit or recede into oblivion. While Amitabh Bachchan was fortunate to deliver Zanjeer and Deewar back-to-back, others like Anil Dhawan, Vijay Arora, and Navin Nischol perished. The same was true of Kumar Gaurav, who came with a bang in Love Story, became an overnight sensation, and then delivered a string of flops before finally disappearing.

Of the new lot, Hrithik made use of the new-age PR machinery to keep his star profile intact, but he had to keep returning to his father’s Krrish franchise to deliver a solo hit. Shahid was not so fortunate. His films flopped, or he had to make do with a Haider or an Udta Punjab—films that are not only bad but also give aspiring stars a false sense of satisfaction that they are now turning “arty.” This route worked well for Dimple Kapadia and Tabu in the past, and to be fair, they did some good work—especially Tabu.

For Shahid, then came Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s Kabir Singh in 2019, which became one of the biggest hits of Hindi cinema and the only A-certified film to earn 300 crores—hitherto unheard of! Shahid delivered the biggest hit of his career in a highly problematic film. But more was to come. This was just the beginning.

2019 also marked the escalation in the stocks of the right wing in India. To be fair, a lot of rubbish starring Akshay Kumar and Kangana Ranaut bombed as well. But what worked were the more diabolical, well-camouflaged films that were taut and technically good—yet, when you scrape the surface, you find them loaded with right-wing agendas. These are all bad films: RRR, Baahubali, Pushpa, KGF, Kalki, et al.—mindless spectacles that flaunt their hypermasculinity and love for fascism using VFX.

With Sandeep’s success and films from the South doing well even among Hindi moviegoers—while Bollywood filmmakers and stars remained clueless and arrogant about the films they were making and continued to belt out flops—a “deal with the devil” had to be struck. Mephistopheles was lurking in the stratosphere; he just had to be hired. Our very own Faustus were biting the dust as their box office stocks kept plummeting.

Ranveer Singh demonized Alauddin Khilji and hammed his way through Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s problematic Padmaavat. Ranbir Kapoor’s Shamshera was a washout. An industry source who was part of the movie told me that usually producers and distributors throng a star on set, but poor Ranbir just sits alone—no one visits him. If Abhinav Kashyap’s Besharam and Anurag Kashyap’s Bombay Velvet had not harmed him enough, Imtiaz Ali’s films also did him no favours.

Add to this all the nepotism noise and the beef-eating controversy, and Ranbir became persona non grata. Luv Ranjan’s Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar gave a glimmer of hope, followed by Brahmāstra, which was a decent hit as well, but not good enough.

Sandeep Reddy Vanga came to his rescue once again.  

So, then came Animal—an obscene, rank-rotten film that set the box office on fire like never before in a hit-deprived film industry! The Faustian deal with the devil was complete and sealed, opening avenues for other such deals in the future. Animal was like an adrenaline shot in Ranbir Kapoor’s sagging career; it brought Rashmika Mandanna into the limelight in the Hindi film industry, and Tripti Dimri—who, until then, had flop films like Laila Majnu and Qala to her credit—catapulted to stardom and landed half a dozen films as a heroine. And last but not least, Bobby Deol—whom everyone thought was done and dusted, despite some success in the OTT series Aashram—became a sensational villain overnight.

Since Animal, there have been tons of reels of Bobby making public appearances with his wife and appearing on The Kapil Sharma Show. Would any of this have happened had he not played that mindless villain in Animal? No way. The deal had paid off for more than one person—not just actors, but many other collaborators and crew members.

Now, it was a done deal: get a producer or director to make a film as regressive as one can imagine, and more often than not, it will become a blockbuster in “Naya Bharat.” And just like that, you’re on a roll, having achieved the stardom you were pining for. The means no longer matter.

Take Vicky Kaushal, for example—a fine actor. Watch him in all the special appearances he has done in Rajkumar Hirani films—but those were just that: special appearances. Then, as Sam Bahadur, he was phenomenal in an otherwise prosaic film. His other solo films were mostly released on OTT. Before all of this, his only big hit was Uri—a jingoist film. So now, what choice remained? Perhaps, to accept Mephistopheles’s offer!

Uri had proven that it works, so why say no to Chaava? Kaushal’s contemporary, Rajkummar Rao, had three solo hits in the meantime: Srikant, a surprise hit; Mrs. & Mr. Mahi, a sleeper hit; and a blockbuster, Stree 2, that even broke Animal’s record! It was a hideous film, to say the least, but not as obnoxious as Animal. Even before that, Rao had earned both critical and commercial success with Newton, Shahid, and Stree 1—so maybe Vicky had to act fast. Sam Bahadur was not good enough.

So when the producers of Stree offered him Chaava, he had to take it—perhaps with absolutely no thought about what kind of film it was and what damage it could do. Or maybe he was aware, and participated willingly. What Chaava did, we all know: it broke box office records and polarized the public, instigating violence in Maharashtra. Wasn’t that the very purpose?

Naya Bharat has thus provided an avenue for actors to become stars by taking refuge in regressive films filled with mindless violence (Ranbir will seal his star status with Animal 2, and everyone will go laughing to the bank) and right-wing jingoistic agendas. Tickets will sell, and all beneficiaries can rest in peace—as modern-day Faustus’ of the East.

Now don’t say, “What’s wrong with it—even Raj Kapoor, Guru Dutt, Bimal Roy, and Mehboob Khan perpetuated Nehruvian socialism. Needless to say that the representation of Neruvian socialism mirrored poverty and disparities, discrimination and exploitation, and also gave hope, whereas the right-wing jingoism of the day harks back to the wounds of past histories, distorts it and gives impetus to violence among young people desperate to be employed and looking for opportunities to vent their frustrations, also blame their status quo upon something or the other. Smart strategy? I don’t know. All I can say is that it hurts to see the world going this way.