Commercial cinema suffocates while alternative films struggle for viewers

During a professional conversation with filmmaker Kazi Hayat, he remarked that different types of films would always exist in the industry—some would attract massive audiences, while others would represent the country abroad and win awards. This explanation cleared a long-standing dilemma in my mind. While alternative films may amass awards, they rarely draw large audiences to theaters.

On the other hand, commercial films, despite pulling in crowds like sugar-craving ants, remain absent from award circuits, often considered the "bad students" of cinema. This contradiction made me question the purpose of films that fail to attract audiences. However, Hayat's simple analogy provided clarity: films are like clothing and jewelry. Clothing serves the primary function of covering the body, while jewelry enhances beauty. But one cannot solely rely on jewelry while ignoring clothing, just as an uncovered body adorned with jewelry does not enhance aesthetics. Yet, today’s film industry seems to be following such an impractical path.

The state of commercial cinema resembles a weakened magnet, unable to attract viewers. In this vacuum, alternative films are attempting—but failing—to draw audiences. Many elitist filmmakers, whose works are more suited for television, have entered mainstream theaters, but despite securing screens, they fail to capture the hearts of moviegoers.

This, however, does not concern alternative filmmakers much, as their films continue to receive praise and awards. Yet, it is commercial films that ensure the financial sustenance of the industry. As these films continue to decline, the very roots of the film industry are being eroded. The number of cinemas has dropped from 1,400 to double digits, not because of alternative films but due to the loss of audience interest in commercial cinema. Clearly, both commercial and alternative cinema hold significance in sustaining the industry.

But who will offer hope in this crisis? Finding such a person is nearly impossible. The legendary hit-making directors, who once propelled commercial cinema forward, have lost their brilliance. Stuck in outdated filmmaking methods, they have also made themselves the subject of ridicule with their out-of-touch statements. Furthermore, the void left by them remains largely unfilled, as the next generation of filmmakers, barring a few, has failed to maintain the momentum of commercial cinema. Some lost their magic touch after just one successful film, while others relied on star power rather than strong storytelling. As a result, audience numbers have continued to dwindle, approaching near-zero levels.

Amid this situation, alternative cinema camps seem to be celebrating hollow victories. Due to the filmmakers’ and actors’ popularity, news outlets are flooded with reports of their so-called success, creating an illusion that these films are reshaping the nation’s cinematic landscape. But the reality is quite different. While such films may survive in multiplexes for a few weeks, they fail to engage broader audiences. When cinema hall owners are asked about their experiences, they share a different perspective: these films are not igniting hope but rather becoming burdens. While alternative films bask in critical acclaim at international film festivals, they leave theater owners drowning in financial losses. Regardless of a film’s success or failure, theaters must still pay rent, electricity bills, and staff salaries.
Last November, I spoke with Sudipto Kumar, an advisor to the Film Exhibitors’ Association, who expressed deep frustration. He recounted a meeting with cinema plex owners who lamented, "We don’t know what to do. We can neither reject nor accept films that have no commercial prospects." The reality of the situation is dire—every branch of Star Cineplex in Dhaka operates on rented premises. Whether they sell tickets or not, they must still pay rent and cover operational expenses.

The past year was financially disastrous for nearly every film—except Toofan, a commercial hit. No other film managed to attract significant audiences, and alternative films failed completely in drawing viewers. Kumar doubted the commercial intent behind some of these films, stating, “After Toofan, theaters have been empty for three to four months. There were high expectations for Dord, but the other films had no commercial potential. They primarily ran in multiplexes for just two to five shows per week. I don’t believe these films were ever meant to be commercially successful. Even Dord ultimately disappointed.”

This situation indicates that alternative films cannot be relied upon for financial returns, and cinema owners and exhibitors are aware of this. A director whose film released late last year repeatedly claimed that his film was not made for commercial purposes. Yet, the same person later lamented on social media that his film was struggling due to low audience turnout. The irony is clear: if a film was not made for commercial gain, why was it released in theaters in the first place? And if no one watches it, why the disappointment? It’s laughable.

While turning a profit from filmmaking may be as rare as finding a golden deer, the few films that do generate revenue belong to the commercial genre. Last year, only Toofan succeeded financially, while alternative films failed to establish a foothold. This trend continued until the year’s final release, Nakshi Kanthar Zamin, starring Jaya Ahsan, which also failed commercially. The so-called web film 36 24 36, released in theaters, was not only a commercial disaster but also ridiculed by audiences.

Meanwhile, filmmaker Mostofa Sarwar Farooki directed 840, a film criticizing 15 years of alleged misrule under the Awami League government. He described the film as an “X-ray report of the Awami regime.” Farooki is a respected filmmaker known for pioneering a new style in Bangladeshi television dramas. His films are praised both domestically and internationally, and he enjoys a strong following among young audiences. However, his struggles with the Awami government over his previous film Shonibar Bikel are well-documented. While he reportedly shot 840 in secrecy, initially intending it for an OTT release, he later re-shot some scenes to turn it into a theatrical film.

As an alternative filmmaker, Farooki's work is usually acclaimed on social media. But was 840 commercially successful? Star Cineplex’s senior marketing executive, Mezbah Uddin, stated, “We ran the film for a month. The first week saw decent audience turnout, but after that, attendance dropped significantly.” Moreover, 840 was never screened in single-screen theaters. Mezbah further noted that since August 5, no Bangladeshi film besides Priyo Maloti has managed to attract viewers. Even Priyo Maloti only performed moderately well and continues to be shown at Jamuna Blockbuster, though audience numbers remain below expectations.

Meanwhile, in Chattogram’s Sugandha Cinema Hall, the situation was no different. Managing Director Saif Hossain stated, “We screened the film for a week, but the results were terrible. Expectations were not met.” The same sentiment was echoed by Ahsanullah, house manager of Shyamoli Cinema Hall, who confirmed that the film underperformed.

Perhaps the biggest joke in the film industry last year was the theatrical release of web content originally intended for OTT platforms. The web film 36 24 36 is a prime example. Had OTT platforms not existed, this film would have been aired as a TV drama or telefilm. But thanks to its OTT association, it was emboldened to seek a theatrical release. However, Bangladeshi audiences generally do not watch TV-style films in theaters, nor do they recognize web films as full-length movies—they still consider them mere telefilms.

Ultimately, releasing such web films in cinemas only burdens theater owners further. Given the current scenario, it is evident that commercial cinema is gasping for oxygen, while alternative films are struggling in a drought of viewers. Despite the attempts to mask this crisis under a blanket of critical acclaim, the reality remains unchanged.

Rafiuzzaman Rafi: Journalist