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By:

Bharati Dubey

17 May 2026 at 1:38:10 am

Raja Shivaji sparks a new era for Marathi cinema

Mumbai: As Raja Shivaji marches steadily towards the Rs 100 crore mark, the film has reignited debate around the future of the Marathi film industry. Having already crossed Rs 80 crore at the Indian box office, the historical drama is now only the second Marathi film after Sairat to achieve the milestone. Its success has raised a larger question within the trade: can a major blockbuster finally attract sustained investment into Marathi cinema, an industry often marked by cycles of growth and...

Raja Shivaji sparks a new era for Marathi cinema

Mumbai: As Raja Shivaji marches steadily towards the Rs 100 crore mark, the film has reignited debate around the future of the Marathi film industry. Having already crossed Rs 80 crore at the Indian box office, the historical drama is now only the second Marathi film after Sairat to achieve the milestone. Its success has raised a larger question within the trade: can a major blockbuster finally attract sustained investment into Marathi cinema, an industry often marked by cycles of growth and slowdown? Much of the buzz surrounding the film stems from the support it received from prominent Hindi film stars, several of whom reportedly came on board to back the project and the industry. Trade analyst Girish Wankhede believes the film’s biggest achievement lies in the scale of collaboration it represents. “The real strength of Raja Shivaji lies in its creative ensemble star cast, which Riteish Deshmukh successfully brought together. By roping in heavyweight Hindi stars like Abhishek Bachchan, Sanjay Dutt, and Salman Khan, the film showcases the immense combined value of cross-industry collaboration. This strong gesture of Hindi cinema’s biggest names extending full support to a Marathi project has created a powerful impression, generating tremendous curiosity and respect for Marathi cinema among audiences, investors, and other industries. It underscores how Marathi films can now command pan-Indian attention and star power,” he says. At the same time, Wankhede feels it may still be premature to call the film a runaway commercial success given its production scale and costs. “What is heartening is the visible new energy and creative fuel that Riteish Deshmukh has infused into Marathi cinema. With him at the helm of affairs, the film looks strong and polished, and this momentum, further amplified by the star support, is already drawing serious attention from investors who were earlier hesitant about the regional space,” he adds. Producer Suniel Wadhwa, Co-Founder and Director of Karmic Films, says the film’s performance could play an important role in rebuilding investor confidence in theatrical cinema. “The success of Raja Shivaji could significantly improve investor confidence in theatrical cinema, especially at a time when many non-film investors have become cautious about the sector. If the film succeeds as a large-scale theatrical event rather than just an opening weekend phenomenon, it will reinforce the belief that culturally rooted Indian stories still possess massive commercial potential across regions and demographics,” he says. However, Wadhwa points out that the industry continues to face deep structural challenges. “One of the biggest is the shortage of true theatrical stars who can create urgency for audiences to step into cinemas. Streaming has created visibility, but not necessarily ticket-selling mythology. At the same time, India remains heavily under-screened, and even strong films often struggle with inadequate show slots, limited showcasing windows, and overcrowded release calendars. Many films today are judged within the first 48–72 hours, leaving little room for organic word-of-mouth growth,” he says. According to him, the theatrical business is evolving rather than disappearing. “Audiences are now reserving cinema outings for event-driven experiences — spectacle, emotion, mythology, action, horror-comedy, and culturally resonant storytelling. Films that can create that collective viewing urgency will continue to attract both audiences and serious investment capital,” he adds. The Marathi film industry has witnessed a mixed year so far. More than two dozen films have released, but only a handful — including Raja Shivaji, Kranti Vidyalay Marathi Madhyam, Aga Aga Sunbai Mahnatay Sasubai, and Super Duper — have performed strongly at the box office. Veteran journalist Dilip Thakur believes Marathi cinema has already begun regaining momentum after the slowdown caused by the pandemic. “New Marathi films are getting launched regularly. The upcoming film Bapya had its screening at Sunny Super Sound, which was attended by non-Marathi journalists in big numbers. The story of Bapya is complex and difficult to make. The point here is that a producer agreed to put his money into the film. Sabar Bonda was another difficult subject which won an award at Sundance. So, producers willing to invest money in such subjects is one positive sign,” he says. Thakur also points to the continued appetite for mainstream Marathi entertainers. “The boom after Sairat still exists in Marathi cinema. There was a setback for four years because of Covid, but the industry has gained momentum. Ravi Jadhav’s new film Fulawara, based on tamasha folk art, will soon go on floors in Pune,” he says. He further notes that Marathi cinema is increasingly attracting investors from outside the industry. “Most Marathi films have non-Marathi investors. They are putting in money because there is business in Marathi cinema. But not every film becomes a hit. Subhash Ghai also produced a few Marathi films. If the subject is good, people are willing to invest,” he adds. Not everyone, however, is convinced that one major hit can alter the industry’s fortunes overnight. Nitin Datar, president of the Cinema Owners Association, remains cautious about reading too much into the film’s success. “Only one film success is not going to bring investors. In the last five years, out of nearly 500 films produced, the success rate has not been encouraging,” he says. Datar acknowledges that the presence of Hindi stars has helped boost the film’s commercial appeal but stresses that Marathi cinema still lacks enough bankable stars capable of consistently drawing audiences to theatres. “The production houses and directors have attracted audiences. Unfortunately, producers haven’t been successful in attracting financial assistance, which has resulted in low production and advertising budgets. But if films succeed in pulling audiences over the weekend, exhibitors automatically increase shows and reduce screenings of underperforming films from other languages. The audience is always there, waiting to visit theatres in large numbers for a good film,” he says. For now, Raja Shivaji has undeniably given Marathi cinema a strong moment in the spotlight. Whether that momentum translates into long-term financial confidence and sustained industry growth remains the larger question.

A Film Built on Trust


The first thing that struck me about the story was how implausibly modern it sounded. A filmmaker in India obsessively listening to an obscure dream-pop track from Los Angeles. An actor with ten million Instagram followers casually asking the internet if anyone recognised the song in his post. A comment beneath it. A reply. Then, within forty-five days, a film was born.


Most films begin with financing decks and market calculations. I’m Not An Actor began with taste. Aditya Kripalani, the film’s director, had been listening to Desire by Ruby Haunt on loop for days. Around the same time, actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui uploaded an Instagram post with the same song in the background and asked if anyone knew its name. Kripalani replied.


What followed still feels improbable in an industry built on hierarchy. Nawaz responded personally. “It’s a very rare song,” he wrote. “If you like this song, it means something special. We have the same taste.”


That exchange became the beginning of a film in which mutual recognition mattered more than transaction. Nawaz agreed to act without taking a fee.


The film asks a distinctly pandemic-era question: what does it mean to know someone entirely through a screen? During the lockdown years, millions discovered that intimacy could survive digitisation, though in altered form.


Kripalani turned that experience into narrative architecture. The film unfolds over a single day and almost entirely through one video call between two strangers. Mouni, a struggling actor in Mumbai, is played by Chitrangada Satarupa. Adnan, a recently retired banker in Frankfurt drifting quietly into depression, is played by Nawazuddin. She is meant to teach him acting. Gradually, they begin teaching each other how to confront themselves.


The Frankfurt setting emerged naturally from the filmmakers’ own lives. Kripalani divides his time between Germany and India, while his wife and producing partner, Sweta Chhabria, has spent over two decades working as a banker in Frankfurt.


But what fascinated me most was the operational madness required to execute it honestly. Indian cinema has simulated long-distance communication for decades through edits and performance tricks. I’m Not An Actor chose the harder path. Both actors remained on real video calls throughout filming. Both crews shot simultaneously in Frankfurt and Mumbai.


The logistical constraints bordered on the absurd. Frankfurt and Mumbai are separated by four-and-a-half hours. That left barely four overlapping daylight hours each day. Once evening arrived in either city, shooting stopped.


The actors stayed on iPhones throughout because the film itself exists within the visual grammar of a video call. Kripalani directed remotely through FaceTime while monitoring both crews on separate iPads, moving psychologically rather than geographically towards whichever actor needed him most.


The contrast between the two cities became an unintended commentary on filmmaking cultures. In Frankfurt, a single train sequence required booking an entire carriage because German privacy laws prohibited strangers’ faces from appearing even incidentally. Mumbai functioned according to opposite principles. The crew shot guerrilla-style in commuter trains using a Sony A7S3 rigged to resemble a vlog camera. In Mumbai, a film unit attracts crowds and usually results in shooting paralysis.


Then, there was the weather. One day, the Mumbai camera operator fainted from the heat. The same day in Frankfurt, Nawaz struggled to pronounce lines because the cold had numbed his tongue. This, for an actor celebrated precisely for his diction.


The film was edited remotely over FaceTime from Frankfurt, often seven hours a day. Its mediated and distant form, dependent on connection stability and trust, persisted through the entire process.


There was no studio cushioning any of this. Independent cinema remains an exercise in collective belief. Nawaz’s decision to waive his fee became the film’s moral centre.


After a screening to a German focus group watching with subtitles and no context, the filmmakers realised the ending failed emotionally. Kripalani re-shot it. Independent cinema rarely advances through certainty.


But now, at last, the gamble appears to be paying off. The film premiered at Cinequest in 2025. Nawaz won Best Actor at the New York Indian Film Festival. Chitrangada Satarupa won Best Actress at the DC South Asian Film Festival, where Kripalani also received a jury mention for Best Director. The most symbolic moment came later at the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute, cradle of American method acting, when the film was screened there for students inheriting the tradition of Marlon Brando.


I came to this project late, as a small investor and co-producer through a friendship stretching back over a decade. I joined because I wanted proximity to the mechanics of filmmaking and not its glamour. Watching this film come together, I realised that sometimes cinema is assembled simply from the willingness of the right people to answer a message from a stranger, and then keep showing up afterwards.


(The writer works in tech and product management in Berlin. He is a co-producer on I’m Not An Actor.)

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