Bold claim: Hrithik Roshan’s stance on Dhurandhar reveals a rare moment of self-questioning in Bollywood, even as the industry keeps chasing spectacle. The actor, famed for starring in Siddharth Anand’s high-octane Fighter—a 2024 film built around the Pulwama tragedy and set against Pakistan-tinged geopolitics—recently paused to reflect on the politics the movie portrays. In an Instagram story, Roshan praised the craft of the film, saying he loves cinema and the kind of storytelling that drags viewers into a vortex until the message emerges on screen. He called Dhurandhar a striking example of that craft and commended the storytelling, even as he added a caveat: “I may disagree with the politics of it,” and he wondered aloud about the responsibilities filmmakers bear as global citizens. He concluded by saying he still learned from the film and admired it as a student of cinema.
What remains unsaid is equally telling. He did not specify which political aspects he objects to, leaving readers to infer that his critique targets the broader pattern in Bollywood: the persistent depiction of Pakistan as a monolithic threat—a trope that aligns with commercial incentives and political convenience in today’s India under Modi. Dhurandhar lands at a tense moment, as India and Pakistan’s fraught relationship has already been tested this year. A late-April attack in Indian-administered Kashmir’s Pahalgam, blamed on Pakistan and claimed by a small group called The Resistance Front (TRF), sparked fears of renewed escalation. In the months that followed, hopes for cooling tensions faded as narratives and real-world rhetoric hardened.
Against this backdrop, another film that reinforces stereotypes of Pakistani violence isn’t simply artistic expression; it risks fueling a volatile environment that many have long cautioned about. Roshan’s remarks about “responsibilities” remain vague, but the larger question is urgent: cinema, especially mass-market Indian cinema with global reach, does more than entertain. It shapes sentiment, for better or worse. When films portray adversaries with dehumanizing broad strokes, the consequences can be real, affecting lives and inter-nation relations.
Historically, Fighter’s arrival was met with criticism for what some viewed as anti-Pakistan and nationalism-lite messaging. That pattern has become more visible as several projects—The Kashmir Files, Mission Majnu, The Kerala Story, and Fighter among them—have received praise from right-leaning audiences while drawing concern from critics who view these films as instruments of propaganda rather than neutral storytelling. The industry’s voices—actors, writers, and producers—have often aligned with those narratives, whether through overt endorsement or through participation in projects with contentious political undercurrents.
So, what does Roshan’s commentary really signify? Are we witnessing a moment of genuine introspection about the power of cinema to shape political sentiment, or is this simply a nuanced distancing tactic—a way to applaud the craft while avoiding hard questions about content? Without a more explicit stance, readers are left to speculate. What remains clear is this: if Roshan truly believes in filmmaker responsibility “as citizens of the world,” such responsibility should extend beyond social media. It should guide the roles he accepts, the stories he supports, and the cinematic landscape he helps cultivate—especially in a nation of over a billion people where stories don’t just reflect reality; they help construct it.
