Here's a mind-boggling fact: Of the eight Indian films that have crossed the magical Rs 1000 crore mark, only two – Dangal and Pathaan – are pure Bollywood productions. The other six? Five are entirely Southern creations (Baahubali, Pushpa 2, RRR, KGF: Chapter 2, and Kalki 2898 AD), while the sixth, Jawan, was helmed by a Southern hitmaker. Clearly, our Southern cousins are doing something brilliantly right — or Bollywood is doing something spectacularly wrong.
To uncover this mystery, you'd need to take a trip South — or have Southern cinema experts give Bollywood a much-needed wake-up call. That's exactly what the Screenwriters Association (SWA) orchestrated at a panel during their Seventh conference.
With representatives from all four Southern film industries, the panel painted a vivid picture of their filmmaking approach. If Bollywood is willing to listen, here are five game-changing lessons that could help Mumbai cinema course correct and start minting billions again.
1. ROOTEDNESS: Stay True to Your Soil: Vivek Athreya, representing the Telugu film industry and director of hits like Mental Madhilo, Brochevarevarura, Ante Sundaraniki and the recent vigilante success Saripodhaa Sanivaaram, put it perfectly: "In south cinema, the films are rooted. The ideas are rooted. KGF and Pushpa worked not because of the scale of the film, but rootedness of the characters and emotions."
Consider this pitch: a hot-headed village nobody starts looting jungle redwood. When presented to Bollywood producers, the typical responses would have been painfully predictable: "Who'd relate to a village loser? Too small for the big screen! Not pan-India enough — maybe OTT? Can you make it for two crores?" Yet this very concept became the Pushpa franchise, which has raked in over Rs 2000 crores so far!
In its obsession with creating 'pan-India' films, Bollywood often ends up making parodies of itself. By trying to please everyone, it pleases no one. Like the mythical Trishankhu, Bollywood dangles in limbo – neither here nor there, a true "dhobi ka kutta" suspended in its own bubble.
Look at 2024's biggest hits across industries. Bollywood had Stree 2, rooted in the Hindi heartland with ordinary local boys facing extraordinary circumstances. Coincidentally, that's also loosely the idea of Malayalam cinema's blockbuster Manjummel Boys. For Tollywood, it was again the locally grounded Pushpa 2.
In Mumbai, screenwriters and directors dread hearing the dismissive label "OTT film" — those small, rooted stories supposedly unworthy of theatrical release. Ironically, this label would have applied to Bollywood's greatest hits: Awara, Mother India, Hum Aapke Hai Kaun, Andhadhun, Piku, Three Idiots, Lagaan, Bajarangi Bhaijaan — none were grand spectacles, just small stories firmly anchored in their cultural, social milieu.
C Prem Kumar, director of acclaimed films 96 and Meiyazhagan in Tamil and Jaanu in Telugu, surprisingly added Imtiaz Ali's Amar Singh Chamkila to this list. He not only loves the film but believes "if it had been released in theatres instead of straight to OTT, it would have been a blockbuster."
Know what is a genuine spectacle film? Some of Bollywood's biggest post-pandemic flops, especially Bade Miyan Chote Miyan! Heroes race to save the nation, but can’t save the film itself.
2. SINGLE PRODUCER: Cut the Corporate Red Tape: Bollywood proudly calls itself 'corporatized,' which has some benefits. As a screenwriter, I've signed agreements for most of my projects here, and most have been honoured. I no longer fear my screenplays or ideas will be stolen – Bollywood has become professional in that regard. However, this has created its own problems.
Hemanth M Rao, representing Kannada cinema with films like Godhi Banna Sadharana Mykattu, Kavaludaari, and the Sapta Saagaradaache Ello series, highlighted the advantages of pitching to a single producer: "I go into a room, pitch my idea to an actor or producer and if he likes it, the film is on and right there we're discussing release dates. I get to make the story I want to make."
Contrasting this, Prem Kumar described waiting six months for a corporate to respond — not with an answer, but with notes! The audience roared with laughter when he said, "After six months, someone else came with the feedback, not the one I had talked to. And he spoke like he was the other person, starting where the other had left off. I had to ask him, who are you?"
During those six months, Prem had already written two more scripts. He reinforced Hemanth's point: "With individual producers, the advantage is they connect with your script in an emotional way. In Bollywood, they ask such fancy questions to which you don't have answers."
3. FEEDBACK: Beware the 'Autopsy Panels': Throughout the three-day conference, one word repeatedly sent shivers down every screenwriter's spine: 'notes', aka feedback. When you pitch to a Mumbai studio, they ruminate and return with 'notes'. Occasionally, these are genuinely helpful. More often, they're horrendous and come from people who neither understand cinema nor have bothered to spend time to understand the story.
The fundamental issue? Cinema is subjective. What you adore, I might loathe — and that's perfectly fine. Every hit has its 'hate base' just as many flops have their 'fan base'. That's the beauty of movies. But feedback for feedback's sake, especially from cinema-illiterate executives, becomes the proverbial too many cooks spoiling the broth.
I've heard of a Mumbai production house that would send screenplays to film school students for 'notes', which were then forwarded to the pitching director, producer, or screenwriter. Imagine masters like SS Rajamouli, Mani Ratnam, or Rajkumar Hirani receiving 'notes' from 19-year-olds who've seen fewer films than these directors have made!
A fellow screenwriter friend loves analysing the psychology of corporate studio executives who feel compelled to offer their opinions regardless of merit. He suggests they all began like other creators — inspired by the greats and aspiring to become one. However, financial or family pressures forced them to abandon their dreams for steady corporate paychecks, where they finance and critique ideas rather than create them. This frustration breeds subconscious jealousy, resulting in unhelpful notes. I recall an acclaimed Bollywood director once telling off such an executive: "Don't try to justify your salary with ridiculous notes on my film."
Hemanth calls these groups "autopsy panels." The irony? Autopsies are performed on things that once lived but have died. These comments concern films not yet born! This process leads to what Vivek termed "Transmission Loss" — by the time corporates respond, creators lose enthusiasm for their initial ideas. Vivek believes that when a script is ready, the best approach is to quickly begin production while the mind is still buzzing with ideas.
4. ALGO FILMMAKING: When followers trump talent: In stock markets, there's algo trading. Similarly, "algo filmmaking" is increasingly forced upon Bollywood directors and even, I hear, in Hollywood. Sophisticated AI algorithms at major studios accept or reject actors not based on talent but on metrics like social media followers. The logic seems sound — if even a fraction of those 'fans' watch the film, it should succeed.
Where this becomes absurd is when it becomes the primary or only criterion studios follow. The first consideration should always be whether an actor fits a particular role. Yet many filmmakers report having terrible actors thrust upon them solely based on social media numbers. This explains why some dreadful performers consistently find work despite their wooden performances while talented actors struggle to find roles. This shallow casting approach is more prevalent in Bollywood than in Southern cinema.
5. MARKETING LAZINESS: The 'Pan-India' Trap: The 'pan-India' label Bollywood covets is actually its greatest downfall. In trying to appeal to everyone, it ends up appealing to no one. Dumbing down films kills whatever joy existed in the original concept.
Hemanth argues that considering audiences while creating is the wrong approach. "I never want to reach everyone out there," he says. "I have to know that out of 10 people, only eight will watch the film. Now, my job as a producer, director or writer is to be honest with those eight people. And to ensure that after the film is made, all eight get to see it."
Films are made for specific audiences, but corporations often fail to ensure that the target audience shows up. "That's not the job of the writer, director or actor. It's the job of the marketing department, the producer, to ensure the film gets distributed to the right audience."
What Hemanth hints at is the laziness of studio marketing departments. Instead of developing unique strategies to reach specific viewers, they want films dumbed down to appeal broadly, sparing them the effort of targeting anyone specifically. This approach is not just stupid — it's suicidal.
Other Bollywood issues highlighted included the lack of appreciation for writers. Christo Tomy, writer-director of the acclaimed Ullozhukku, mentioned hearing about writers and directors in Malayalam cinema receiving equal IP rights alongside producers — unthinkable in Bollywood, where until recently, studios were reluctant to even pay royalties, as I covered in a previous column.
Follow your heart, resist excessive censorship based on feedback, make marketing teams work harder to reach target audiences, cast based on roles rather than social media metrics, and stay rooted in your cultural milieu even when telling fantastical tales... these principles seem like common sense. But who will tell the emperor he's naked?
Executives earning high salaries love the status quo. Producers continue making money one way or another. The true victims are creative ideas, their distraught creators and deprived audiences. Will Bollywood continue down this path? Something must eventually give — but what exactly, we can't yet predict.
