Something strange has happened to Bollywood since COVID. Films are no longer landing in the middle. They’re either flying high for weeks or crashing before the weekend’s even over. There’s no middle ground anymore. Either you have a Pathaan, Jawan, Kantara, Pushpa, or Saiyaara running for 50–100 days, minting money even on weekdays… or you have Selfiee, Thank God, Bade Miyan Chote Miyan, Kisi Ka Bhai Kisi Ki Jaan disappearing before Monday’s first show.
And that’s the problem.
The gap between the winners and the losers has widened so much that every Friday feels like a high-stakes gamble. For those that sink, it’s not even about bad content anymore. The openings themselves are shockingly poor. The very Day 1, which once defined a star’s pull, now comes with “Buy One Get One Free” offers, 50% discounts, or companies bulk-booking their own shows to fill empty seats. Marketing teams are panicking. The question every producer is asking now is: How do we make the audience care again on Day 1?
THE MARKETING MADNESS
So the strategies have gone wild.
Some films are trying to create pre-release hype through relentless Instagram reels and influencer collabs. But does it really work? Take Yaariyan 2 or Tera Kya Hoga Lovely—both spammed social media with trends, transitions, and “reel challenges,” but when Friday came, the numbers didn’t. Most people didn’t even know they had released.
Even the music—the lifeline of Bollywood marketing—is being tailor-made for Instagram, not theatres. Songs like Nach Punjaban from Jugjugg Jeeyo or Kudi Nu Nachne De were designed to trend on reels, but when the films were released, they barely made an impact. Jugjugg Jeeyo did a decent ₹85 Crores, but for a star-packed Dharma film, it was a modest performer, not a blockbuster.
THE HURDLE MENTALITY
Then there’s the herd effect. When Pathaan released its trailer just 10 days before the film, it changed everything. No over-promotion, no clutter, just mystery and momentum. The movie exploded with ₹57 Crores on opening day, ₹543 Crores lifetime. Everyone suddenly decided that less is more.
Then came Jawan. Shah Rukh Khan again dropped a teaser close to release, skipped interviews, and instead used his own digital connect, his iconic “Ask SRK” sessions, to market directly. The result? ₹75 Crores opening, ₹640 Crores total.
Every production house tried copying that formula. Some dropped no teasers (Animal did this to great effect), some released songs before trailers, and some even “leaked” clips intentionally to create buzz. But the truth is simple: what works for one doesn’t work for all.
THE PRESENT CHAOS
Now we’re heading into another crazy Diwali season, and the marketing experiments are only getting weirder.
Take Ek Deewane Ki Deewaniyat, which is openly trying to replicate the Saiyaara model, essentially a slow-burn romantic drama banking on emotions. The trailers scream déjà vu. Rhyming dialogues, slo-mo stares, and dramatic background scores written by Milap Zaveri, who believes volume equals mass appeal. The movie might benefit from the festive timing, but if the content isn’t there, no amount of marketing will save it.
And then there’s Thamma, a vampire horror comedy that somehow thinks having three item songs will do the trick. They’ve got Malaika Arora, Nora Fatehi, and Rashmika Mandanna dancing in sequined chaos, all in one film. It’s loud, shiny, and completely confused about its genre. Horror-comedy or glamour parade? Who knows? Maybe the movie’s good, maybe it’s not, but the marketing screams desperation.
THE REAL QUESTION
When marketing starts chasing trends instead of building identity, you lose both trust and curiosity. Earlier, stars had signature connects: SRK had “Ask SRK,” Salman had his EID, Aamir had his perfection streak, and Ranbir had word-of-mouth charisma. Today, everyone’s copying everyone. There’s no voice, just noise.
The irony? Marketing used to be about selling the movie. Now it’s about selling the illusion of a movie.
Every Friday, you see the same formula: poster drops, dance challenges, influencer shoutouts, over-edited trailers, and half-hearted PR interviews. But cinema doesn’t live in marketing departments; it lives in hearts and memories.
Maybe the answer isn’t louder marketing, but quieter confidence. Maybe Bollywood needs to stop trying to trick the audience into the theatre and instead give them a reason to stay there.
Until then, the madness will continue: hashtags will trend, songs will drop, tickets will be discounted, and the real question will still hang in the air:
Is marketing saving Bollywood, or is it slowly killing it for the worse?
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