What happens when a male's explosion of violence is shown in front of an audience? That explosion of anger is audible and physical and should not be ignored. Still, in that moment, when it is being viewed by an audience member in a theatre or on a phone, they are experiencing that moment not with distaste, but with excitement, some like admiration, that is the contradiction between reality and fantasy. What initially is considered abusive behaviour in real life becomes thrilling, attractive or even wanting in a theatrical context.

Films like Animal or Kabir Singh do not need detailed retelling anymore because they have already seeped into cultural memory, discussed, debated, defended, criticised, and meme-ified to a point where the specifics are less important than the reaction they continue to generate, which is why the more interesting question is no longer what these films show, but why they are working so strongly right now, especially with an audience that often describes itself as more aware, more liberal, more emotionally evolved than before.

The Rise of the ‘Alpha’ Anti-Hero
In Indian cinema's evolution over the past couple of decades, it has moved from the traditional idealised romantic hero mould to the more contemporary 'alpha anti-hero' character - emotional detachment, rage, and aggression are all features of the character. This has been evident in recent films such as ‘Pushpa’, ‘KGF: Chapter 1’, and ‘Animal’. The character(s) in these films operate on a very simple formula for their emotions: rage = authenticity; therefore, their primary mode of expression is violence. Rather than having the audience question their behaviour, they are be encouraged to empathise with them or even justify and admire them.

In the case of ‘Pushpa’, the aggression displayed is represented as an expression of a character's resistance towards an oppressive/riddled society, where as the character of Rocky in ‘KGF’ is built up to be a godlike figure due to his overwhelming brutality (to get what he wants); and in ‘Animal’, the character is going through a mental crisis, but instead of being a concern, it is packaged into a spectacle for us.

While all three films share the theme of 'toxic' masculine icons, these characters are not presented as cautionary examples in their respective films. Scholarly articles and papers often describe these characters as exhibiting angromance - where rage is the romantic currency, and love is expressed through dominance as opposed to being vulnerable. In all three films, the directors perceive aggression as an admirable trait rather than a flaw to be overcome.

Love That Looks Like Control
In romantic dramas, the alpha anti-hero becomes even more troubling because aggression and control are reframed as emotional depth rather than toxicity. Films like ‘Kabir Singh’ and ‘Arjun Reddy’ present obsessive, volatile men as deeply passionate lovers instead of emotionally destructive individuals. Kabir does not simply love Preeti; he treats her like emotional property, and his possessiveness is framed as intensity rather than insecurity.

Their relationship gradually shifts from a mutual connection to emotional ownership, in which his anger and control dictate the terms of love. These films create a dangerous narrative where obsession becomes devotion, possessiveness becomes love, and persistence becomes entitlement. Women who resist such men are often diminished or blamed for the man’s instability, while consent becomes secondary once love is framed as conquest. The success of ‘Kabir Singh’ revealed how audiences moved beyond observing toxic behaviour to defending and identifying with it, blurring the line between portraying toxicity and glorifying it.

When Abuse is Played for Irony or Redemption
When discussing domestic abuse, it's essential to note that films address the topic inexorably, presenting levels of toxicity at varying extremes. Generally, these films deal with the subject matter lightly, exhibit high levels of sentimentality, and/or critique or acknowledge toxicity on some level.

One example of the light approach to highlighting domestic violence is Darlings (2021) — a film designated as a dark comedy, though it contains a wealth of serious content. Despite Darlings' undeniable and inescapable evidence of domestic abuse through the violent behaviour exhibited by Vijay Varma's character, the film allows viewers to engage with the overall issue of domestic violence within the context of irony, humour, and a reversal of roles. This approach ultimately allows viewers to end their viewing at a point of emotional satisfaction, having witnessed a resolution in which the perpetrator receives justice, without experiencing emotional discontent.

Another film addressing the issue of domestic abuse through the normalisation of abusive behaviour via the utilisation of manipulation, entitlement, and infidelity in a story about love and forgiveness is Biwi No. 1 (1999). Although the main character exhibits abusive behaviour throughout the film, he is ultimately forgiven by his wife, and the film concludes with the couple being restored to a position of harmony together, rather than the male character being held accountable for his abuse.

As such, an examination of Indian cinema's representations of domestic violence indicates that while there is recognition that real damage occurs due to abuse, such representations do not provide a complete or honest evaluation of how widespread domestic violence is; instead they merely justify redemption (through a reunification of a couple) or emotional justifications for the portrayals (through making it easier for audiences to process the content).

The concern with this is that it represents a covert form of danger. When domestic violence is framed with humour, it makes the act of violence seem less serious. When domestic violence is framed with redemption, it makes the act seem forgivable. When the act is portrayed in the context of trauma or love, it seems understandable. Domestic violence is still represented as being harmful to victims in the film. Still, it is represented as mitigated by humour (the viewer's context) or by redemption (the reunited couple). Thus, the representations present a danger in that they may help validate abuse as normal or legitimate.

The Grammar of Glorification
Although not all of these types of stories may differ, they all have something in common: each uses a way unique to that particular kind of story to tell a story that can create and change the way we perceive something.

This is true with music as well. Music is typically the first thing that shapes how we view something. If we watch a violent event with an upbeat musical score, it can go from disturbing to exciting. The result will create a rush of adrenaline in the audience, and they will feel, not think, that they are experiencing something very intense.

Next, the different ways an event or person is framed will help us create an identity for that person and present them to others. A man can be made into a large presence through slow-motion, low-angle shots, and/or good lighting. By virtue of his being in the frame, he can give his actions an extraordinary size.

The emotional connection between aggressive dialogue and aesthetics enables aggressors to transform their threatening behaviour into humour, violent acts into memorable moments, and audacious lines that would not be entertaining in any other genre. The actor's essence changes the context of moral judgement on who the character is, because the audience does not see the character as being evil when he is portrayed by a popular male actor who may also possess many of the same negative characteristics, but rather they perceive his essence as what creates his character's negative qualities; thus, the essence of the actor removes the negative by transforming negative characteristics into quirky, and removing violent behaviour through being perceived as being "cool."

All of these ways of making films contribute to making aggression aesthetically pleasing, and when aggression is made aesthetically pleasing, it becomes less a harmful behaviour and more an aspirational one; the real threat is not having imperfect individuals represent aggression, but that they represent an idealistic view of the individual.

Audience Complicity: Why We Still Cheer
It's easy to lay all the responsibility on filmmakers for how stories are told, but viewers also play an important role in shaping and sustaining them. One consistent point raised repeatedly in online discussions of these movies is that, while everyone agrees that what they see on screen is wrong (and has said so many times before), there's some sort of visual appeal that makes people want to watch the wrongness unfold.

This concept of 'escapism' can partly explain why people are so attached to these kinds of movies. There is a freedom in the characters created in these films, and there are consequences for acts of violence or aggression, as well as very little (if any) limitation on emotional expression. Viewers can feel comfort and happiness by watching characters express themselves in ways that are not otherwise socially accepted.

Another possible example of viewer escapism is the 'Alpha Male' that is depicted in these films. This character is often portrayed as an authority figure who wields power without consequences, and he believes he can do anything he wishes. The viewer sees the Alpha Male acting freely, without regard for society's rules.

Simultaneously, traditional men's values related to solidity and control are prevalent throughout; they're not necessarily created in this film but merely amplified through it (cinematic experience). Also, audience reactions during this collective viewing event affect your perception of what you see. When the crowd reacts (cheers), they validate that moment and guide how you should feel about it.

In this way, the audience is not just a passive observer but an active participant in the creation of cultural meanings through their continuous selection of what to applaud, ignore, and eventually turn into culture.

What This Does to Culture
Film is connected to culture in many ways, and because of this connection, films and cinema can both reflect the cultural views of society at that time and continually shape them over time. The same story or theme in film, when told repeatedly, continues to reinforce patterns in how we view concepts like masculinity and love.

When a viewer sees an example of masculinity that is defined primarily through power, a lack of emotion and/or a lack of emotional connection and control, this will create familiarity to the viewer. In contrast, viewing masculine representation through alternative definitions will create a view of masculinity that is not considered traditional or acceptable in cinema, thereby causing the viewer to see traditional masculine representation as lesser than the alternative.

When viewed over and over, the perception of what "Love" is begins to be changed by changing their expectation for how “Love" should appear; When relationships are continually depicted as being based on persistence—sometimes overcoming great odds, like pain, Imbalance, emotional strain (enduring)—it then becomes part of our cultural understanding of what love “should be.”

As portrayed in the aforementioned examples, women are often reduced to being either "the prize" or "the reward" for a man— as opposed to being a full character that has her own journey (or, as part of the man’s journey)—and creates a relational identity with a value based on connection instead of individualism.

Feminists looking back over the decades at Bollywood have demonstrated the fluidity of masculine portrayals, which have been flexible and shaped over time and across different social contexts. Patterns of representation remain in place if they are lucrative businesses for the industry and relevant to moviegoers.

Additionally, the relationship between the film industry and the audience is nuanced, as movies do not directly create behaviours, and seeing a film does not convert to behaviour in real life; however, the film industry does influence an understanding of the meaning behind "normal" behaviours and shapes what we admire, tolerate, and would excuse; its slow and cumulative effect is where its impact actually lies.

Are There Alternatives?
Because of how dominant masculine portrayals have been in film, in terms of both the proliferation of male characters and their depictions in relation to traditional masculinity, many people assume that there is only one way to create a masculine identity in film; hence, a demand for film producers to produce experiences that result in domination over, or control of, an individual. However, viewing Kumbalangi Nights from an alternative perspective shows that this isn't true.

In Kumbalangi Nights, we see weak characters are portrayed as imperfect, complicated human beings who carry an emotional burden. However, their story shows that they don't achieve their goals through external control or domination.

Instead, by using internalisation, vulnerability and growth as the basis for their journey, audiences can view and experience those imperfections without the benefit of artificial representations of them, but rather by seeing them through the lens of growth and not reducing the man's ability to express strength while still being able to form a connection with their more nurturing, sensitive side.

In Kumbalangi Nights, love is not seen as ownership or conquest, but rather as respect and accountability to each other. That is the key difference, because it proves that cinema always could depict flawed men without worshipping those flaws, and to tell compelling, emotionally rich stories without turning harm into spectacle; the alternative is not hypothetical, it already exists, it has simply not been given the same scale, visibility, or cultural push.

Bring Back Consequences: When Power Had a Price
One trend that is worth reviving is consequences. Older movies had more morally ambiguous (or outright evil) protagonists who were allowed to exist; however, these characters did not escape consequences, and modern storytelling seems to have lost this balance. Look at how actors such as Shah Rukh Khan portrayed protagonists who were both charismatic and disturbing in his early films Darr and Baazigar (Rahul Mehra and Ajay Sharma). These characters were both obsessed with and violent towards others, and they faced challenges throughout their respective story arcs. For example, in films such as Anjaam, Ram Jaane, and Duplicate, the protagonists were beaten, broken, and/or killed for their actions, preventing their behaviour from being viewed as admirable.

This wasn’t limited to him—Ranveer Singh’s Alauddin Khilji in Padmaavat, Saif Ali Khan’s Langda Tyagi in Omkara, Kajol’s Isha in Gupt, John Abraham and Hrithik Roshan in the Dhoom series, Ashutosh Rana in Sangharsh, Riteish Deshmukh in Ek Villain, Akshay Kumar in Ajnabee, or even Hamza in Darlings—all faced the consequences of their choices, reminding audiences that charisma does not cancel accountability. Perhaps that is the balance modern “alpha” narratives need to rediscover.

The Takeaway
This moment in filmmaking not only showcases an active relationship between filmgoer and filmmaker but also demonstrates that the audience is no longer merely consuming stories; instead, they actively participate in their creation through their own experiences and beliefs. Consequently, the argument that cinema depends solely on fulfilling its audience’s desires is erroneous—the relationship between the audience and the built characters in these films is far more complicated than that.

As a result, today’s audiences can see past the characters' flaws and develop a connection, curiosity, or even admiration for them. Thus, we now have an intricate relationship with the film experience from both the audience's and the filmmaker's perspectives; it is no longer simply about accepting or rejecting these characters based on their behaviours.

The most likely source of this new dynamic may lie not in the absence of the flawed character but in how we individually respond to them, with awareness of what we are positively acknowledging and celebrating, how we do so, and why. The focus of our inquiry should not be solely on the entertainment value of a film or the compelling nature of the narrative; it should also consider the encouragement of spectators’ communal admiration, desires, and eventual normalisation of such characters over time.