'“The three big ‘no’s in Indian cinema are sexuality, religion and politics,” says Anurag Kashyap. “And in Sacred Games we address all three.” The Netflix series, which Kashyap co-directed, takes viewers to places Bollywood rarely does. (...) A dense, tense crime saga that closely tracks real-world history: political and police corruption, organised crime, religious tension, nuclear terrorism. (...) There is blood, sex, and violence, not to mention a trailblazing transgender character. “You cannot do that in mainstream cinema and have an audience,” Kashyap says. “It’s a given that movie-watching in India is a family experience, a community experience. Families didn’t sit together to see Sacred Games.” (...)
With 1.3 billion people and more than 500 million internet subscribers, not to mention flatlining growth in other territories, the streaming giants have been moving into India big time. Both Netflix and Amazon launched their services there in 2016, taking on larger local rivals such as the Disney-owned Hotstar. (...) Not only are these companies telling stories Bollywood can’t, they are bringing them to audiences Bollywood can’t reach. Sacred Games was a phenomenon in India, but the show was watched by twice as many people outside the country, according to Netflix. (...)
Sacred Games is not the only boundary-pushing Indian show Netflix has released. There is supernatural horror Ghoul, set in a detention facility in a near-future India under martial law due to sectarian violence. There is cricketing drama Selection Day, based on the book by Booker prize-winner Aravind Adiga, and directed by British-Indian Udayan Prasad. On a very different tack was Lust Stories, an anthology of short films by four directors (including Kashyap), all focusing on female sexuality. (...) Amazon has also put out provocative content, such as Mirzapur, a crime saga infused with sex and violence, that would not get past the cinema censors.
At the other end of the spectrum was this year’s Delhi Crime, based on the horrific gang rape, torture and murder of Jyoti Singh on a Delhi bus in 2012. (...) Delhi Crime focuses on the manhunt for the six perpetrators, based on the real-life case files. The investigation is spearheaded by a female deputy police commissioner. (...) Powerfully portrayed by Shefali Shah, she is a different kind of heroine to the Bollywood norm: fortysomething, a sympathetic mother but also a formidable leader, who insists everything is done by the book. (...) A pacy police procedural that doubles as a wide-ranging societal survey. Although it is sympathetic towards the police, the series hardly casts India in a flattering light. This is a landscape of institutional sexism, societal indifference, self-serving politicians, endemic corruption, press leaks, power cuts, pollution and badly funded public services. Even to get a forensic team to a crime scene requires twisting arms and calling in favours. (...)
Even in cinemas, streaming giants are exerting an influence on Indian cinema, it seems. (...) Could this be the beginning of a brain-drain in Indian cinema? Could the streaming services start to erode Bollywood? (...) There is something to lose here. For all its inaccessibility, Bollywood is really the only substantial national cinema that has not been co-opted by the US and other foreign players. As Kashyap puts it: “Our biggest strength is our biggest weakness: that we do not need to sell a single ticket to a non-Indian to sustain ourselves.” It doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game, but the streaming companies have created an extra platform for more outward-facing Indian film-makers such as Kashyap. (...) Having been outsiders, they now find themselves in a position of unprecedented power and influence. The game has changed'.
