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Written by Noaman Khan:

After about 30 grueling minutes, I finally shut down my laptop. I couldn’t endure even one more second of this absolute disaster called Animal. I’ve slogged through many mind-numbingly boring films before, but this was a different beast altogether. Fifteen minutes into the film, our dear protagonist Rannvijay, played by Ranbir Kapoor, decides to unleash his charm with the classic line: “Hey Geetanjali, you’ve got a mighty fine pelvis there! It’s like a built-in baby factory!” Naturally, Geetanjali, played by Rashmika Mandanna, is so bowled over by this display of alpha male brilliance that she promptly cancels her engagement faster than you can say “gender stereotypes galore.”

Animal is, all in all, a cinematic catastrophe. It is violent, like a toddler on a sugar high with a chainsaw. It is brutal, as if directed by a rugby team on their third pint. It is gory enough to make a butcher faint. It is destructive, reminiscent of a cat left alone with a roll of toilet paper. It is unhinging, as if your crazy uncle got hold of the script. It is disturbing, like a clown convention at midnight. It is hysterical, but not in a funny way—more like a hyena on helium. It is toxic, capable of making even a dumpster fire look appealing. It is extreme, excessive, and irrational in every absurd twist it throws at you. Beware: Animal is a wild ride that can haunt the easily spooked and leave the rest wondering what on earth they just witnessed, or in simple terms, it’s the cinematic equivalent of a three-ring circus where all the clowns are psychopaths.

I had high hopes (considering the director’s bold claims that it drew inspiration from Coppola’s Godfather and Tarantino’s Kill Bill.), but Animal took those hopes, chewed them up, and spat them out in a fit of cinematic rage. It’s a film so deeply problematic that it feels like the script was written by a committee of villains from old B-movies. Picture this: if Quentin Tarantino and Francis Ford Coppola had a love child who was raised on a steady diet of slasher flicks and bad video game cutscenes, that unholy spawn would still be less disturbing than Animal. Even Maneka Gandhi would probably campaign for this film to be put down humanely. The title might suggest a wild, untamed creature, but what we get is a confused, rabid mess that makes you question the very nature of cinema itself.

Bollywood, bless its sequined soul, has a rather abysmal track record when it comes to showcasing genuinely good men. It’s as if the casting gods decided that decent male characters should be as rare as a logical plot twist in a masala movie. Instead, we have the dubious honor of lionizing characters like Shahid Kapoor’s Kabir Singh, who makes tantrums look like a sport, and Shah Rukh Khan’s Raj Malhotra, whose charm is outmatched only by his commitment to grandiose stalking.

Meanwhile, the truly decent characters are relegated to the cinematic equivalent of the friend zone. They’re stuck in the narrative basement, probably discussing consent and healthy relationships while waiting for their fifteen seconds of screen time. One can only hope that someday, these unsung heroes will rise from obscurity, much like the plot of a long-lost Karan Johar movie, where decency and common sense finally take center stage. Until then, we’re left to navigate a celluloid world where toxic charm reigns supreme, and genuinely good men are as invisible as the special effects budget in a 1980s Bollywood flick.

The creators of these toxic characters often leap to their defense with arguments as flimsy as tissue paper—single-ply tissue paper at that. Take Sandeep Reddy Vanga, for example, who famously declared that if you don’t have the authority to slap your beloved, then there’s no love between you. Ah yes, nothing says “I love you” like a well-placed slap. Fans of this director argue that we shouldn’t burden filmmakers with morality and should separate the art from the artist. “Art is like a unicorn,” they say, “beautiful and mythical, and it should prance freely without the heavy saddle of ethics.” However, it’s crucial to understand that films like these shape young minds. They may lead young men to believe that pulling out a rifle, shooting into the wall in the bedroom, frightening the sleeping kids in the presence of his wife and declaring, “It’s a man’s world, Geetanjali, deal with it,” is somehow the pinnacle of coolness.

Imagine little Chintu, fresh from watching this cinematic masterpiece, thinking that the next time he forgets to do his homework, he should proclaim, “It’s a student’s world, Mrs. Fernandes, deal with it,” and then dramatically toss his backpack across the classroom. Or young Rahul, who decides that instead of asking nicely for a turn on the swing, he’ll just brandish his Nerf gun and declare his dominance over the playground.

Let’s humor this wild hypothetical where the masterminds behind cinematic triumphs like Animal and Arjun Reddy insist that movies don’t shape minds—no, no, the glorification of toxic behaviors and problematic characters couldn’t possibly influence impressionable young viewers, blah blah blah. Even though, in our reality, I’ve personally seen the disastrous effects of these flicks (but hey, that’s another soapbox rant for later).

But seriously, esteemed directors and thespians, have you ever paused to consider your female viewers? Picture this: women, eagerly grabbing their popcorn, settling into plush seats, only to endure a two-hour festival of abuse, disrespect, and objectification. Fun times, right? Surely, this must be what they dream about when thinking of a night at the movies.

Do you ever ponder how to be a tad more considerate? Or is sensitivity towards women just too much to ask? Are they relegated to second-class status in your cinematic universe? Or perhaps you’re banking on the fact that your core audience comprises a legion of incels who thrive on such content?

Films, dear readers, are not mere entertainments. They are the instruction manuals for the gullible. And if we hand them manuals penned by the likes of Vanga, we’re in for a generation that believes toxic masculinity is not only acceptable but the epitome of romance.

Despite the cavalcade of cringe-worthy male characters flooding contemporary cinema, there are rare gems who keep the spirit of the medium alive and redefine what it means to be a man. These characters, like Farhan Akhtar’s Sunny Gill or Shahid Kapoor’s Aditya Kashyap, possess such redeeming qualities that their movies feel like a cinematic spa day—pure bliss on repeat viewings. They offer a refreshing counterpoint to the toxic masculinity often portrayed, embodying empathy, integrity, and emotional depth.

It’s these characters that I’m celebrating today, as they play a crucial role in shaping positive representations in modern cinema. And who better to start with than the incomparable Irrfan Khan’s Rana Chaudhary from the movie Piku, a character who perfectly exemplifies the blend of strength and sensitivity that makes for a truly memorable and inspiring male lead.

 Rana Chaudhary, played by the legendary Irrfan Khan, is one of those characters who just sticks with you long after the credits roll. It’s hard to believe that an actor who played the titular role in the movie Maqbool could also deliver this with such finesse. I mean, come on—how many actors can pull off a ‘non-Bengali Chaudhary’ taxi driver exasperated by his client’s knack for car accidents and still make you love him more with every scene? Irrfan nailed it, no doubt about it.

My first date with Piku was on a cozy monsoon evening at home, and let me tell you, it’s been a staple on my rewatch list ever since. There’s something about Irrfan’s portrayal of Rana that’s just so spot-on. He’s patient, supportive, and totally unshaken by Piku’s strong-willed nature. He gets her quirks, and she starts to see him as more than just her ride-share rescuer.

Remember that scene with Piku’s dad, Amitabh Bachchan, throwing a fit about not being a burden? Rana steps in like a champ, pointing out that if he was really cramping her style, he’d be back in Delhi, not on a 1500 km road trip to Kolkata. Classic Rana move—keeping it real, standing his ground, and showing us what true support looks like without all the mushy stuff.

But it’s not just about Piku. Rana’s interactions with her dad are pure gold too. He handles Bhaskor’s quirks with this mix of respect and firmness that’s just so on point. Irrfan brings this depth to Rana that’s both relatable and aspirational. He’s the guy you wish was your wingman, always there with a shoulder to lean on or a reality check when you need it most.

In a world of flashy heroes, Rana Chaudhary stands out as a gem—a character who embodies everything we love about the everyday hero. Thanks to Irrfan’s masterful performance, Rana’s kindness, empathy, and quiet strength make him unforgettable.

Danish Walia, portrayed with exquisite subtlety by Varun Dhawan in Juhi Chaturvedi’s October, is a breath of fresh air in Bollywood’s hero landscape. Affectionately known as Dan, he’s not your typical leading man. Starting as an unassuming hotel management trainee, Dan’s life takes an unexpected turn when his colleague Shiuli meets with a tragic accident. What sets Danish Walia apart is his profound empathy and unwavering commitment, especially as he steps up to care for Shiuli during her coma.

Dan’s journey in October is a slow, deliberate exploration of emotional growth and self-discovery. From a young man drifting without purpose, he evolves into someone who finds deep meaning in caring for another human being. This transformation is portrayed with such authenticity that Dan becomes both relatable and deeply inspiring. Juhi Chaturvedi’s nuanced writing, coupled with Varun Dhawan’s heartfelt performance, captures Dan’s silent strength and vulnerability, leaving a lasting impression.

At the heart of Dan’s character is his quiet determination and pure intentions. He isn’t seeking praise or accolades; his devotion to Shiuli springs from genuine love and concern. The film’s deliberate pace allows us to savor the small, poignant moments that define true compassion. Dan’s story celebrates quiet resilience and the profound beauty of human connection, offering a poignant contrast to the loud, exaggerated portrayals of masculinity often seen in mainstream cinema.

In October, Danish Walia stands as a testament to the power of empathy and the understated heroism found in everyday acts of kindness. His journey reminds us of the transformative impact of genuine care and selfless devotion, making him a character who resonates deeply with audiences long after the film ends.

 Kabir Dewan, brought to life by Abhay Deol in Zoya Akhtar and Reema Kagti’s Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, stands out as a beacon of positive masculinity in Bollywood. Unlike the stereotypical heroes, Kabir is not just a successful businessman but a man of emotional depth and grounded sensibilities.

In this epic road trip of self-discovery with his best friends, Kabir’s character shines through his openness and vulnerability. His journey isn’t just about adventure; it’s a heartfelt exploration of friendship, love, and personal growth. What sets Kabir apart is his ability to confront his doubts and communicate honestly with his fiancée, Natasha, showing a maturity rarely seen in male characters on screen.

 Central to Kabir’s character is his unwavering loyalty and commitment to his friends. As the peacemaker among his buddies, played by Hrithik Roshan and Farhan Akhtar, Kabir embodies empathy and support. His interactions highlight his empathetic nature and showcase the strength found in understanding and embracing emotions.

Kabir Dewan’s portrayal challenges traditional masculinity by blending sensitivity with integrity and strength. Crafted with finesse by Akhtar and Kagti, and brought to life by Deol’s nuanced performance, Kabir resonates deeply with audiences. His journey in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara reminds us that true courage lies in authenticity and facing life’s complexities with an open heart, making him a role model in contemporary cinema.

Dr. Jehangir Khan, portrayed with profound empathy by Shah Rukh Khan in Gauri Shinde’s Dear Zindagi, epitomizes a distinctive represenation of positive masculinity in cinema. His character resonates long after the credits roll, much like his earlier roles where he has excelled in bringing complex characters to life. Jehangir, affectionately called Jug by his clients, stands out as a therapist who not only listens without judgment but also guides his young client Kaira (Alia Bhatt) through her emotional struggles with patience and understanding.

He’s gentle yet firm, like a marshmallow wrapped in steel wool, able to tackle Kaira’s existential crises with a blend of sensitivity and wisdom that makes you wonder if he moonlights as a life coach for celebrities. He challenges her perceptions about life and relationships, guiding her towards self-acceptance and growth. His role as a mentor goes beyond conventional therapy; he becomes a catalyst for Kaira’s journey of self-discovery, demonstrating that true strength lies in understanding and embracing one’s emotions.

Jehangir flips the script on traditional masculinity with his nuanced portrayal of empathy and introspection. He’s not afraid to show his sensitive side, proving that real strength isn’t about flexing muscles but about understanding and embracing emotions. Khan’s performance ensures that Dr. Jehangir isn’t just a character; he’s a beacon of hope for anyone navigating the messy terrain of adulthood and relationships. He’s the therapist we all wish we had—charming, insightful, and with a smile that could launch a thousand therapy sessions.

Deepak Kumar, a standout character in Kiran Rao’s revolutionary film Laapataa Ladies, burst onto the scene with all the flair of a Bollywood blockbuster. Known for her avant-garde filmmaking style, Rao flips the script on traditional Indian cinema. Her collaboration with Anand Gandhi on Ship Of Theseus was like a stamp of approval on her progressive stance in the industry. Laapataa Ladies plunges into the heart of feminine identity and empowerment in rural India, weaving the fate of two brides who find themselves hilariously swapped on a chaotic train journey.

Against the quirky backdrop of 2001 Nirmal Pradesh, Deepak’s journey kicks off with a comically disastrous mix-up on a packed train. Thanks to a cosmic joke, he ends up escorting the wrong bride, Jaya, off the train instead of his true love Phool Kumari. Amidst all the cultural chaos and social norms, Deepak’s relentless quest to track down Phool turns into a heartfelt exploration of love and determination. The veil, symbolizing patriarchal nonsense, looms large, complicating Deepak’s quest to find his lost wife amidst all the ridiculous societal prejudices.

Deepak’s character oozes with unwavering dedication and integrity as he battles through mistrust and absurd adversity to reunite with Phool. His steadfast pursuit of justice for both women goes beyond just family duty; it becomes a shining example of empathy and understanding. His interactions with Jaya shed light on his transformation, smashing stereotypes and championing women’s independence. Through his heroic actions, Deepak not only rights a wrong but also empowers Jaya to break free from an abusive marriage, leading her to chase her dreams in Dehradun.

Deepak embodies a masculinity rooted in humility and solidarity, a stark contrast to the rampant dude-bro misogyny around him. His earnest struggle against societal norms and personal dilemmas makes him a true game-changer. In Laapataa Ladies, Deepak Kumar is the poster boy for positive masculinity in cinema, where kindness, resilience, and respect for women’s autonomy rewrite the rulebook. His journey alongside Phool and Jaya resonates as a quirky testament to love, honor, and empowerment in a society teetering between tradition and progress, cementing his status as a lovably quirky and unforgettable character in modern film.

In celebrating these characters, we acknowledge those who redefine heroism and enrich our movie-watching experience with their depth and authenticity. From Rana Chaudhary’s unwavering support in Piku to Danish Walia’s tender heroism in October, they remind us that true strength often lies in kindness and understanding. These characters not only challenge stereotypes but also inspire us to embrace empathy and resilience in our own lives. Here’s to them and to more portrayals that shape positive masculinity in cinema, paving the way for richer, more meaningful stories on screen.

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