Bollywood has been sitting on a hot burner for years now, and not without reason. The industry’s obsession with remakes, masala films, and star-driven spectacles over genuine storytelling has been chewed and spat out not only by critics but also by the audience at large. Add social media to the mix, and suddenly everyone with a Wi-Fi connection and an opinion is a critic.
On the surface, this sounds democratic. After all, cinema belongs to the people who buy tickets, right? But here’s the catch: the rise of armchair criticism has turned the audience from participants to gatekeepers, dissecting every frame, every dialogue, and every costume before a film has even had the chance to breathe.
The Curse of Instant Opinion
We now live in the era of the “15-second verdict.” By the time the first show of a Friday release wraps up, Twitter, Instagram reels, and WhatsApp groups have already declared the film either “trash” or “masterpiece.” The nuance, the patience to let a story simmer, has gone missing.
What this culture forgets is simple: a film is a piece of art, not a Twitter poll.
Take Andaz Apna Apna (1994). Released with no great fanfare, it was slammed by critics and ignored by audiences. The film tanked at the box office. Fast-forward a decade, it’s a cult comedy that generations now swear by. Imagine if the social media brigade of today had gotten its hands on it back then—would it even have survived long enough to become the gem it is today?
Or consider Jagga Jasoos (2017). Written off as a “weird musical experiment” on opening day, it was crushed under the weight of bad word-of-mouth. Yet years later, cinephiles admire its audacity, music, and whimsical storytelling.
Even the mighty Sholay (1975) had an underwhelming opening. Critics called it too long, and audiences weren’t sure what to make of its mix of action, drama, and comedy. Only sustained viewing transformed it into India’s greatest blockbuster.
The South Shows the Way
Special mention must be made of South Indian cinema. Tamil, Malayalam, Kannada, and Telugu industries have consistently pushed the envelope, producing raw, story-driven films. Why? Because their audiences enter theatres as audiences, not critics. They surrender to the story rather than sit with metaphorical microscopes to pick apart flaws. This culture of acceptance has allowed gems like Manjummel Boys (Malayalam), Kantara (Kannada), and Maharaja (Tamil) to rise.
It’s not that southern audiences don’t critique—they do, and fiercely—but they first watch a film as an experience. They walk into a theatre to enjoy, not to arm-wrestle the director’s intent. Bollywood could use some of that humility in its fandom.
Filmmakers Aren’t Robots
Every film you see is someone’s dream, years of sweat, and in many cases, personal bankruptcy on screen. To dismiss it with a throwaway “mid” or “flop show” tweet is lazy at best and cruel at worst. Filmmakers back stories they believe in—sometimes they misfire, yes, but often the audience is too impatient to recognize the spark.
We must remember: the critic inside us should not kill the audience within us. Films are meant to be watched and felt before being judged.
Closing Credits
Cinema has survived for over a century because it’s larger than instant opinions. The next time you walk into a theatre, try being an audience, not a judge. You might just walk out having witnessed magic that hashtags can’t define.
So here’s a question for you:
👉 Which film, in your opinion, fell prey to early negative responses but went on to become a cult classic—or at least deserved better than what it got?
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