Bollywood has discovered a business model so safe that it may eventually eliminate the need to make new films. Take an old title, add a number, announce a “universe,” cast a familiar surname and call the resulting risk management an event. Somewhere, a writer is still asked to make it feel fresh by Tuesday.
I am not opposed to sequels. Cinema has always revisited characters. The problem is not repetition but the absence of a reason to repeat. Industry reporting from Bollywood Hungama’s box-office pages shows how brutally theatrical performance can vary, while Film Companion’s criticism archive documents the creative conversation around Hindi cinema. The lesson I draw is not that audiences reject commercial films. They reject being treated as automatic withdrawals.
The industry’s franchise fever and nepotism problem are related. Both are systems for reducing uncertainty. A recognised title arrives with memory; a recognised surname arrives with publicity. Neither guarantees talent. Both help executives avoid admitting that taste, development and casting judgment are their actual jobs.
Legacy is not craft
A star child may be talented. Some plainly are. What irritates me is the ceremonial language used to conceal ordinary work. A competent debut becomes “the arrival of a generational performer” because the publicity machine has inherited enthusiasm along with the surname. An outsider giving the same performance is told to improve diction and build an audience.
Nepotism’s defenders say every profession contains family advantage. True, and irrelevant. Cinema sells merit as mythology. It asks the public to believe stardom is an emotional referendum. When access is inherited but acclaim is marketed as destiny, audiences are entitled to mock the arrangement.
The answer is not to ban film families or demand that children apologise for their parents. It is to remove the layers of unearned insulation. Audition them. Let weak films fail without immediate relaunches. Stop surrounding inexperienced performers with interviews proclaiming qualities the screen has not displayed. Most importantly, fund writers and directors who can give any actor something worth performing.
A universe cannot hide an empty room
Hollywood has also overextended franchises, as the trade reporting at Variety’s box-office desk regularly demonstrates. Bollywood’s imitation therefore arrives just as the original model shows fatigue. The word “universe” now often means a cameo has been inserted to advertise another film. This is not world-building. It is a trailer interrupting the feature.
Real franchise storytelling deepens a world, changes relationships and makes the new instalment necessary. Lazy franchising repeats the hero’s entrance, enlarges the villain and assumes volume equals escalation. The audience recognises the difference. Spectacle can attract an opening weekend; affection sustains a series.
The classics I love were not timid. Even mainstream Hindi films took tonal risks, built memorable supporting characters and trusted songs to advance emotion rather than marketing. They were not perfect, but they possessed conviction. Today’s committee-made blockbusters often seem embarrassed by silence and terrified that viewers will forget the star if another character speaks for two minutes.
Risk is the industry’s actual product
Producers say theatrical uncertainty makes familiarity essential. I sympathise. Ticket prices are high, marketing is expensive and streaming economics have changed. But safety can become collectively dangerous. If every studio chases the same sequel audience, one failed trend damages everyone. A diverse slate is not artistic charity; it is portfolio logic.
Bollywood should develop mid-budget films, pay writers through the development process and audition beyond the usual agencies. Stars should accept ensembles where the script, not the entrance shot, determines hierarchy. Streaming platforms should stop using “content” as an excuse for shapeless scripts. And critics, myself included, must judge outsiders by the same standards rather than rewarding struggle itself.
I do not want a puritan cinema without stars. I want stars created by performance, not announced through genealogy. I do not want every sequel cancelled. I want a sequel to justify the numeral after its title.
The industry keeps asking why audiences have become unpredictable. Perhaps viewers are not unpredictable. Perhaps they are bored. Familiarity can open the door, but only an idea keeps anyone in the room.
