I have always been a huge supporter of remaking classic films. Some cinephiles treat remakes as an insult to the original, but I have never shared that view. In fact, I believe remakes are one of the best ways to introduce timeless stories to a new generation.
Cinema evolves. Audiences evolve. Technology evolves. Culture evolves. A film made forty or fifty years ago may not resonate with younger viewers in the same way it did with their parents. A good remake respects the soul of the original while adapting its storytelling, pacing, emotions, dialogue, and setting for contemporary audiences. That is an incredibly difficult balancing act, but when it works, it is absolutely worth the effort.
Farhan Akhtar’s Don is a perfect example. Many younger viewers know Shah Rukh Khan’s version but have never watched the original starring Amitabh Bachchan. Instead of producing a scene-for-scene copy, Farhan retained the essence of the classic while modernising the narrative and even giving it an entirely new ending. It felt fresh while paying homage to the original.
Another interesting example is Mahesh Bhatt’s Dil Hai Ke Manta Nahin. While many remember it as one of the defining romantic films of the 1990s, few realise that it was heavily inspired by the Hollywood classic It Happened One Night, which eventually inspired Raj Kapoors, Chori Chori (1956). Hindi cinema also has a long tradition of adapting successful stories from other Indian languages and reshaping them for Hindi speaking audiences. The 1968 Hindi comedy film Padosan was a remake of the 1952 Bengali film Pasher Bari. The success of such films reminds us that audiences rarely reject a remake simply because it is a remake. They reject bad filmmaking.
Unfortunately, the opposite is equally true.
Films like Himmatwala and the 2007 remake of Sholay demonstrate that nostalgia alone cannot guarantee success. Bigger budgets, modern cameras and elaborate marketing campaigns cannot recreate the emotional magic that made the originals iconic. These films have become fascinating case studies in how not to approach a remake. They copied the surface but failed to capture the heart.
That brings me to the recently released trailer of Ramayana.
The first thing we need to understand is that Ramayana is not a remake.
So, don’t compare it to any other series or movies.
It is a new retelling of one of humanity’s oldest and most influential epics.
There is an important distinction.
The Ramayana is far bigger than a story. For millions of Hindus across the world, it is history, philosophy, morality, culture and faith woven into one epic. It has shaped traditions for centuries and continues to influence everyday life.
For many Indians of my generation, the definitive screen adaptation remains Ramanand Sagar’s television series from the late 1980s.
Those who lived through that era will remember what Sunday mornings looked like.
The streets would become eerily quiet.
Markets slowed down.
Families gathered around television sets.
Many households still owned black-and-white televisions, while others had no television at all. Children would gather at the homes of neighbours fortunate enough to own a colour TV. Watching Ramayana became a weekly festival rather than simply watching another television programme. It was one of those rare cultural moments that united an entire nation.
Naturally, when Adipurush attempted to retell this sacred epic, expectations were enormous.
Unfortunately, the film failed to convince many audiences. The criticism extended far beyond its visual effects. Many viewers felt disconnected from its characterisation, dialogues and overall treatment of the source material. It became a reminder that adapting a revered epic demands far more than technical sophistication.
So when the first trailer of the new Ramayana arrived, I approached it with understandable caution.
Yes, the visual effects are being handled by an Oscar-winning company.
That certainly inspires confidence.
But visual effects alone have never made a great film.
Avatar would not be Avatar without James Cameron’s vision.
The Dark Knight bears Christopher Nolan’s unmistakable signature.
Closer to home, films like Baahubali and RRR are inseparable from S. S. Rajamouli’s larger-than-life storytelling. Their success was never just about spectacle; it was about a filmmaker with a clear creative vision.
That is why the biggest question surrounding Ramayana has very little to do with computer graphics.
Can the filmmakers deliver an emotionally compelling retelling?
Can they capture the spiritual depth, humanity and grandeur of the epic?
Only time will answer those questions.
I have no intention of judging the entire film based on a three-minute trailer. Trailers often misrepresent the finished product. Sometimes they oversell mediocre films. Sometimes they undersell exceptional ones.
A perfect example is Sonic the Hedgehog. The first trailer was ridiculed worldwide because of Sonic’s appearance. The criticism was so overwhelming that the studio redesigned the character before release, and the final film was received far more positively. It proved that first impressions are not always final verdicts.
Personally, I think the Ramayana trailer already looks considerably better than Adipurush. The overall visual design, atmosphere and aesthetic appear more respectful and convincing. That alone gives me reason to remain cautiously optimistic.
What Bollywood has repeatedly failed to understand over the past decade is that audiences are no longer impressed simply because a project is expensive.
A massive budget is not enough.
An Oscar-winning visual effects company is not enough.
Having A. R. Rahman or Hans Zimmer associated with a project is not enough.
Big names create headlines. But they do not automatically create emotional connections in the way actors did during the 1940s, 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s. Those stars became legends not because they opened films with massive marketing campaigns, but because audiences genuinely believed in the characters they portrayed. People fell in love with them, cried with them, laughed with them and carried those performances in their hearts for decades. Today’s industry often mistakes social media trends, opening weekend collections and celebrity status for genuine affection. They are not the same thing. Audiences may queue up on the first day because of a famous name, but they only recommend a film to others if it moves them emotionally. In an era where word of mouth travels faster than any marketing campaign, emotional honesty has become far more valuable than star power. A memorable performance will outlive a hundred promotional interviews, and a heartfelt story will always survive longer than the biggest advertising budget.
When filmmakers adapt a sacred text like the Ramayana, they are not merely adapting another screenplay. They are engaging with the emotions, memories and faith of millions of people. That responsibility demands sensitivity, authenticity and genuine understanding.
Thankfully, I do not see anything in the trailer that personally offends me. In fact, I found many aspects encouraging.
Unlike many viewers, I also avoid comparing every Indian film with Hollywood. Indian cinema has its own storytelling traditions, strengths and cultural identity. It deserves to be evaluated on its own terms rather than as a cheaper version of Western cinema.
Perhaps the greatest lesson Bollywood remakes have taught us is this:
Great cinema cannot be manufactured by money alone.
Technology cannot replace vision.
Visual effects cannot replace storytelling.
Star power cannot replace emotional honesty.
Whether it is a remake, a reboot or a fresh retelling of an ancient epic, audiences ultimately ask only one question: “Did this film make me feel something?”
If the answer is yes, people will embrace it regardless of whether it is based on a classic or an original idea.
As for Ramayana, I am choosing optimism over outrage.
I will wait for the film to release, watch it with an open mind, and judge it only after experiencing the complete story.
That, after all, is the fairest way to judge any film.
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