Beyond the Hero’s Shadow: Do Women Still Have Agency in Indian Cinema?

When the first look of Buchi Babu Sana’s Peddi (2026) was released, much of the conversation revolved around its scale, star power, and the anticipation surrounding Ram Charan’s transformation. 

Amid all of this, Janhvi Kapoor’s role appeared to occupy a familiar space within the narrative. Remember Param Sundari (2025)  and Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari (2025)? 

Her presence seems largely tied to the protagonist’s emotional and narrative journey. Sheer clothing, low cut blouses, forced glam and beautification even without the script’s requirement, the promotional material raises a recurring question about female representation in mainstream Indian cinema – are women being written as active participants in stories or are they still functioning primarily as extensions of male narratives?

Across several projects, her characters have frequently been positioned within a narrow range of archetypes, like the only romantic interest, the vulnerable woman requiring assistance or a visual spectacle that complements the hero’s journey. 

Commercial cinema has seen patterns where the female characters lack narrative agency. This conversation surrounding representation has evolved considerably over the past decade where in movies like “Thappad” (2020),  “Piku” (2015),  “Gangubai Kathiawadi” (2022) demonstrate that audiences are willing to engage with stories centred on women’s ambitions, moral dilemmas, and personal transformations. 

Some actresses like Taapsee Pannu show consistency in their filmography with such roles, but are very soon ruled as lacking range. These projects demonstrate meaningful progress, on the surface. The mere presence of female characters does not automatically guarantee that they possess influence over the stories they inhabit. Take Pink (2016) for an example, it seems like a movie empowering stronger female characters. But is it really a feminist movie if a male character comes to the rescue of the said strong female characters?

To understand this distinction, we have to understand the concept of narrative agency. Agency refers to a character’s ability to make decisions that shape the course of a story. Characters with agency possess independent motivations, confront obstacles through their own actions and influence outcomes through choice. Ask a question- if a female character were removed from the narrative, would the story fundamentally change? In many mainstream films, women remain central to the emotional texture of the story but notice, very carefully, not to its actual progression. 

Their role is often to inspire, support, motivate, or redeem male protagonists. And as a result, representation may appear progressive while remaining structurally unchanged. 

Film theorist Laura Mulvey’s concept of the ‘“male gaze” offers one framework through which this phenomenon can be understood. Mulvey argued that mainstream cinema frequently positions women as objects to be looked at rather than subjects who drive action. This dynamic extends beyond character writing and is portrayed through cinematic techniques such as camera framing, costume design, song sequences, and promotional imagery. The persistence of the male gaze is particularly relevant in contemporary commercial cinema, where glamour and marketability influence storytelling. 

Promotional campaigns often introduce actresses through carefully curated aesthetic imagery long before audiences gain insight into their motivations or ambitions. Character posters, teaser shots, and songs routinely prioritise beauty and desirability over characterisation. Such framing reinforces the notion that visibility itself constitutes representation. The distinction between being seen and being heard remains crucial to actually understanding the quality of representation being offered. 

Yet the issue extends beyond individual filmmakers or cinematic techniques. It is also shaped by industrial structures of Bollywood and Tollywood. Both industries continue to operate largely through star-driven models in which narratives are built around the image, charisma, and commercial appeal of male leads. And the secondary characters, including women, often exist to reinforce the protagonist’s journey. 

The commercial logic behind these films encourages familiar formulas, making it easier to reproduce established gender roles than to challenge them. 

Consequently, even as female characters receive more screen time and visibility, they may still be denied the complexity routinely afforded to their male counterparts.  

In time, the audiences themselves have become increasingly conscious of representation. Discussions surrounding the Bechdel Test, feminist film criticism and social media discourse have encouraged viewers to evaluate films beyond box office numbers and star performances. Are women afforded desires, ambitions and flaws independently of men? Do they make choices that alter the narrative? Or are they simply modernised versions of older stereotypes packaged within more contemporary aesthetics?