There’s something oddly poetic about a 25-year-old film company launching a program to find the next generation of storytellers. Excel Entertainment, the studio that once redefined Indian cinema with Dil Chahta Hai, is now doubling down on its founding ethos—only this time, it’s not about the filmmakers who built the empire, but the ones who might dismantle it. The new Excel Origins initiative feels less like a celebration and more like a bet on chaos. After all, what’s the point of commemorating a legacy if you’re not also burning down the blueprint?
Let’s be clear: this isn’t just another ‘supporting new talent’ campaign. It’s a full-throated rejection of the industry’s current obsession with nostalgia and formula. Ritesh Sidhwani and Farhan Akhtar, both 26 when they started Excel, are now handing the mic to kids who might not even know what a VHS tape is. That’s not just ironic—it’s a masterstroke. They’re betting that the future of storytelling won’t be found in remakes or sequels, but in the messy, unpolished voices of people who’ve never been told their ideas aren’t ‘marketable.’
What makes this particularly fascinating is the timing. Bollywood, like so many industries, is stuck in a loop of repetition. Franchises like Don and Fukrey have become crutches, while streaming platforms demand content that’s safe enough to avoid backlash. Excel’s move feels like a slap in the face to that complacency. They’re saying, ‘We’re not here to replicate the past—we’re here to interrogate it.’ And honestly? I think that’s the only way forward. If you take a step back and think about it, the most groundbreaking films of the last two decades were made by people who didn’t care about box office charts. They cared about making something that felt alive.
But here’s the rub: nurturing young talent isn’t just about giving them funding. It’s about giving them permission to fail. That’s what Dil Chahta Hai did for its generation—it didn’t just tell a story; it gave permission to be unapologetically human. Now, Excel Origins is asking: Can we do that again? Can we create a space where a 22-year-old director can make a film about quantum physics and queer identity without being told to ‘tone it down’? Or will the industry’s fear of risk still trip them up?
One thing that immediately stands out is how this initiative challenges the myth of the ‘star director.’ For years, Bollywood has treated filmmakers like celebrities—celebrities who are supposed to deliver the same product every time. But what if the real stars are the ones who haven’t been discovered yet? What if the next Gully Boy or Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara is being written in a dorm room by someone who’s never heard of a greenlight meeting?
This raises a deeper question: Is the film industry ready for a paradigm shift? Or are we just going to keep recycling the same tropes while pretending to innovate? I’m reminded of how the music industry once dismissed streaming as a fad—until it became the entire ecosystem. Maybe Excel is trying to do the same here. They’re not just launching a program; they’re planting seeds in soil that’s been poisoned by cynicism.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how they’re not just targeting directors. They’re casting actors, writers, and even producers who are early in their careers. This isn’t about creating a pipeline—it’s about building a community. And that’s where the real magic happens. When you have a team of young creatives who’ve been raised on the same philosophy, you get something that feels less like a studio and more like a movement.
What this really suggests is that Excel isn’t just trying to survive in 2023—they’re trying to redefine what survival means. In an industry that’s been slow to adapt, this initiative is a reminder that the best way to honor the past is to stop treating it like a template. The next 25 years of cinema might not look like the last ones. And maybe that’s exactly what we need.
