A film called “Homebound” arrives, trailing clouds of glory. It earned a nine-minute ovation at Cannes. Martin Scorsese himself becomes its executive producer. He hosts a screening in New York, calming the director’s nerves with a funny story. The film becomes India’s official Oscar entry. All of it seemed like a triumphant underdog story. But back in India, a different, more familiar story is unfolding. “Homebound” was shoved into a cinematic corner. It got only a handful of theater showings. Meanwhile, the same production house lavished screens on a flashier, less substantial film. And this is where the applause fades and the real drama begins.
So, what happens when a critically adored film stumbles at the box office? Producers often blame the audience. They say people seek escapism from their hard lives. But is that the whole truth? For decades, Bollywood has primarily served a diet of larger-than-life fantasies. It has trained viewers to expect certain tropes. The power does not reside with the audience. The power rests with the studios that control what gets made and, crucially, how it gets sold. And this brings us to producer Karan Johar.
His comments about “Homebound” were… Well, ‘revealing’ is perhaps the word we’re looking for here. He told trade analyst Komal Nahta, “Now, you have to take every decision with profitability… I made Homebound, critically acclaimed worldwide, but I can’t say if I’ll make such decisions in the future or not. I will feel upset, but I chose this deal for a reason—growth. Growth comes from profit, and profit comes from profitability. I will always be artistic, but it is important to be commercial as well.”
Johar’s comments sparked immediate backlash. His subsequent clarification did little to soothe the situation. He insisted his words were “misconstrued” and “misquoted.” But the initial impression stuck. The promotion for “Homebound” was curiously muted. It was like throwing a party without sending the invites. “Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari,” another Dharma production, was released a week later. That film got nearly 100 showings daily. It starred the same Janhvi Kapoor. It bombed anyway. Content failed to connect. The question is obvious. Did “Homebound” ever get a real fighting chance to succeed?
More Than a Journey Home
Now, let’s talk about the film itself. “Homebound” is undoubtedly one of the significant Indian movies in recent times. It tackles caste, religious bigotry, and the plight of migrant laborers. The film follows two friends, Chandan and Shoaib, chasing government jobs. Much like the millions of Indians do, to secure a level of social security in a nation where laborers are often treated as bonded slaves. A government job promises dignity amid all the uncertainty. However, Chandan’s journey is haunted by his identity. In multiple scenes, he hesitates to reveal his Dalit identity. He fears instant rejection. He even fills out government exam forms as a general category candidate. This is a desperate act. And it reveals a tragic irony.
More Related: Homebound (2025) ‘Cannes’ Movie Review: Neeraj Ghaywan’s Sophomore Feature Continues His Caste Examination With A Classically Dramatic Touch
Reservation was meant to be a tool for upliftment. Instead, it has been turned into a marker for hate against people belonging to marginalized communities. The film starkly demonstrates this in a powerful confrontation. A clerk in the recruitment office aggressively interrogates Chandan. He tries to force Chandan to admit he is a Dalit. Chandan persists in his lie. Consequently, the clerk unleashes a torrent of bigotry. He spews hatred about how Dalits getting jobs are undeserving. This moment lays bare the system’s brutal hypocrisy. It showcases how your name can be your greatest burden. As director Neeraj Ghaywan told Martin Scorsese, “Shakespeare had said, ‘What’s in a name?’ Come to India and find out.”
Now, the film’s treatment of gender is equally compelling.
Chandan’s sister, Vaishali, works as a provider alongside their parents. The family invests solely in Chandan’s education, hoping he will land a government job. Vaishali remains a figure of silent oppression within their marginalized world. During one raw confrontation, Vaishali finally erupts. She confronts her brother about how he has always been the preferred one. This moment shatters Chandan. It ultimately leads him to take a job and leave his home. The confrontation reveals the ingrained gender dynamics that persist even in the heart of a struggling family. It showcases how male privilege works in society. How it is normalized and invisibilized. On the other hand, Ghaywan also masterfully depicts the COVID-19 migrant crisis.
The director documents the exodus of migrant laborers with unflinching precision, illustrating how workers were dehumanized, dismissed as mere data points, and subjected to violence when they tried to return home after the shutdown cut off their income and basic security. “Homebound” gives them faces, names, and dreams. Chandan was shielded from physical labor for most of his life. And he ultimately succumbs to the excruciating journey back home. Here, the performances by Vishal Jethwa and Ishaan Khatter deserve special mention. They bring a raw, heartbreaking authenticity to these pivotal scenes. The film forces us to witness a national shame. It inevitably makes us question our own role within a broken system.
This tragedy is deepened by the film’s sharp critique of the Indian bureaucracy and the false promises it feeds to people like Chandan—those who spend their lives chasing the dignity and security of a government job. The narrative exposes how a system built on delay and indifference can fail individuals long before it acknowledges them. In contrast, the film offers a compelling counter-narrative through Sudha, whose journey reframes what dignity and self-worth can mean outside the rigid structures that failed Chandan.
She is an Ambedkarite who champions education as her tool for liberation. For her, real power comes from knowledge and social awakening. This directly challenges Chandan’s belief in a government job as the sole path to upliftment. Their differing ideologies highlight the complex debate within marginalized communities. It asks whether change comes from working within the system or from fundamentally challenging it.
The Representation Paradox
Also Read: Between Surnames and Silences: The Unflinching World of Neeraj Ghaywan’s ‘Homebound’ (2025)
Surprisingly, director Neeraj Ghaywan defended Karan Johar. He told Lallantop Cinema, “Now to see people questioning his [Karan Johar’s] honesty, casting aspersions on him, it really breaks my heart.” He stressed that Johar did not need to back this film. Ghaywan pleaded, “Presenting something that he said somewhere by completely misquoting and misconstruing it, that can totally break his morale.” He perhaps fears this backlash will deter future support for independent cinema. And this defense adds a complex layer to the entire controversy.
But at the end, Karan Johar’s comments and the film’s poor release strategy reveal a deeper truth. They highlight a system of benevolent classism. It is a form of tokenism. A prestigious, socially-conscious film is made for acclaim. However, it is not nurtured for commercial success. The ecosystem pats itself on the back for its progressivism. Yet, it refuses to do the hard work of building an audience for it. The result is a self-fulfilling prophecy. These films are set up to fail financially, thereby justifying their underproduction.
“Homebound” is more than a movie. It is a mirror held up to Indian society and its film industry. It asks difficult questions about caste, friendship, and dignity. Simultaneously, its journey exposes the industry’s hypocrisies. We need to champion films that are brave. We must also demand that the gatekeepers give them a real chance. Otherwise, the cycle of tokenism will continue unchallenged. True change requires more than just making a film; it requires committing to its life in the world.
True representation means more than one Dalit filmmaker. It means more than one “important” film a year. It means rebuilding the system. “The function, the very serious function of racism, is distraction. It keeps you from doing your work. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being. Somebody says you have no language, and you spend twenty years proving that you do,” Tony Morrison said half a century back. For Bollywood, the distraction is tokenism. It allows the industry to point to “Homebound” while avoiding the real work. Perhaps the real work is to create an ecosystem where a film like “Homebound” is not an anomaly but a normalized part of cinema. And this requires more than just production.
It demands the same marketing muscle, screen allocation, and belief that templated blockbusters automatically receive. The goal is not to replace one template with another but to forge a space where diverse stories can truly thrive. Not just as exceptions to celebrate, but as stories to champion.
