I do not dislike sequels. The Godfather Part II exists, as does Before Sunset, and Hindi cinema itself has expanded characters successfully. I dislike the executive superstition that a known title is the same thing as a reason to return. Bollywood now approaches its past like a landlord inspecting square footage. Every remembered film is potential franchise property; every old song is an asset awaiting refurbishment; every character who once drew applause is kept available for resurrection.
The release calendar makes the strategy plain. October 2026 alone brought another Drishyam chapter and an Awarapan sequel into the wider film conversation, while streaming platforms continued to market extensions of familiar worlds. Gadgets 360’s release listings provide a useful picture of how crowded the slate has become. Recognition now performs the job a compelling pitch once did.
A sequel needs an argument
The best continuation changes our understanding of the original. It asks what time, consequence or a new perspective has done to characters. A bad sequel merely repeats the commercial geometry: the same star silhouette, the same theme cue, a louder antagonist and dialogue written to become promotional clips.
Drishyam is an interesting case because its premise naturally generates consequences. Vijay Salgaonkar’s intelligence does not erase what his family endured. A continuation can ask whether permanent vigilance becomes another prison. That is an argument. But if the film only constructs a more elaborate police trap so that Vijay can produce another miraculous counter-plan, ingenuity becomes a treadmill.
Awarapan represents a different temptation: cult nostalgia. The original’s reputation grew through television, music and the melancholy screen persona of Emraan Hashmi. Reviving it can be emotionally potent, but affection is not a screenplay. Studios often confuse the audience’s memory of how a film made them feel with demand for a literal second helping.
Stars cannot replace development
The franchise habit also protects nepotism. A familiar banner, title and family name can be assembled into a pre-sold package before anyone proves the central performance works. Marketing then describes inherited access as destiny. I have no objection to an actor having famous parents; I object when the industry asks viewers to regard opportunity itself as talent.
Real development means drafts, table reads, ruthless editing and directors empowered to reject casting that does not serve the film. Bollywood speaks about “content” while still announcing projects through star combinations. The word has become camouflage for the absence of process.
Trade coverage such as Bollywood Hungama’s box-office reporting shows why caution seduces producers. Theatrical economics are volatile, marketing is expensive and opening weekends matter. A recognisable brand can reduce awareness costs. I understand the spreadsheet. I simply do not accept that financial prudence requires creative surrender.
The audience is less loyal than the industry thinks
Viewers now compare a Hindi sequel not only with another Bollywood film but with international series, regional cinema and an enormous catalogue. Familiarity may secure a click or first-day ticket, but it cannot sustain interest if the writing is mechanical. Social media punishes boredom quickly.
Classics survive because they contain specificity. Their songs belonged to situations, their faces carried interior lives, and their dialogue emerged from character rather than a trailer editor’s request. Copying the surface reproduces none of that.
I want fewer cinematic universes and more cinematic convictions. If a writer has a necessary third chapter, make it. If a director can transform an old genre, finance it. But stop treating every remembered title as dormant intellectual property.
The counterargument says audiences choose franchises. Of course they do—when franchises dominate screens, advertising and release dates. Choice is partly manufactured. Original films are often released with weak campaigns and then cited as proof that originality does not sell.
Bollywood’s problem is not a shortage of stories. It is a hierarchy that trusts stars, surnames and recall before writers. A sequel should earn existence on the page. Until that becomes normal, the industry will keep reopening old cupboards and calling the contents a universe.
