- Vishal Bhardwaj and Shahid Kapoor's Haider (2014) is a bold political film set in Kashmir
- Haider linked AFSPA with "chutzpah" as a metaphor for military and political audacity
- The film blends Shakespeare's Hamlet with Basharat Peer's memoir Curfewed Night
O'Romeo is the big release of the week and marks the fourth collaboration between director Vishal Bhardwaj and actor Shahid Kapoor. This might be their most mainstream, crowd-pleasing masala film, but I still feel Haider (2014) stands as their most powerful work. A film that continues to loom large in discussions of political cinema in Hindi films.
A few weeks ago, one moment from the O'Romeo trailer launch made that clear. When asked how the industry has changed over the past decade, especially with growing corporate control, Bhardwaj's response was striking: "It's not that I ever had a problem with corporates. I made Haider in 2014. But today, I don't think I can even make the 'H' of a film like Haider."
It felt like a quiet lament from a filmmaker who now senses that the window for such cinema has closed. Bhardwaj seemed to acknowledge that the conditions which once allowed such a film to exist, its subject, language or the bold intent, no longer do.
Shahid Kapoor echoed the sentiment last year, admitting that politically charged films like Haider can no longer be made: "We can't do controversial films anymore." So what makes Haider such a rare film? How was it made, and why do its makers believe it couldn't be attempted today?
The Film That Rhymed AFSPA With Chutzpah
The film's boldest move perhaps, was its use of the word 'chutzpah' (meaning extreme audacity) as a metaphor for the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA). The word is deliberately mispronounced to sound like a local Kashmiri slur, turning it into a biting punchline about life in the conflict-torn valley. By linking the 'chutzpah' of military power with that of local politicians and militants, the film made a sharp political point.
Haider blended the high drama of Shakespeare's Hamlet with the gritty realism of Basharat Peer's memoir Curfewed Night. This gave the film a surreal feel, bringing together its characters, politics and the Kashmir backdrop seamlessly. The film found itself at the centre of two major controversies: first, that it portrayed the Indian Army in a negative light; and second, that it entirely omitted the chapter of the displacement of the Kashmiri Pandits.
The creators insisted Haider is merely an adaptation of Hamlet, a tale of jealousy and revenge, using Kashmir merely as a backdrop. But the film's narrative suggested otherwise. Specific sequences appeared to tackle the Kashmir conflict so directly that they blurred the line between human drama and political commentary. Audiences and critics were divided. Some saw it as provocation, labelling as propaganda; others as necessary social commentary that forced viewers to face uncomfortable truths.
The Making Of Haider
Fresh off the success of Kaminey (2009), Vishal Bhardwaj briefly toyed with the idea of a sequel. Then his attention drifted to something more ambitious: a contemporary espionage thriller inspired by Hamlet, which he began developing with author Stephen Alter.
When Bhardwaj shared the early concept and research with longtime collaborator, poet-lyricist Gulzar, he spotted a problem immediately. The thrill element was there but the emotional core of Shakespeare's Hamlet, its grief, intimacy and moral weight were missing. The world lacked authenticity.
The turning point came from home. Singer and Bhardwaj's wife Rekha Bhardwaj urged him to read journalist Basharat Peer's memoir, Curfewed Night, a searing account of growing up in violence-scarred Kashmir. The book struck a chord. Bhardwaj reached out to Peer, and soon, the project found its true shape.With Peer closely involved in the screenplay, Hamlet's themes of betrayal, loss and rage were transplanted into Kashmir's lived reality. The politics stopped being abstract; the tragedy became personal. Bhardwaj has since said that without Peer, Haider would either not have been made at all, or not made this way.
Casting: Star Power Done Right
The film needed a star to carry its intense story, and Shahid Kapoor was all in. He loved the chance to play Hamlet. But Haider wasn't a mainstream masala film and had a tight budget. So Shahid didn't charge for the film.
He mentioned later that his usual payment would have exceeded the movie's budget, and the filmmakers made it clear that if they paid him, the film wouldn't have been possible. Shahid Kapoor, in turn, gave everything, and delivered his career-best performance.
His soliloquy at Lal Chowk, with a shaven head, is a haunting, masterful moment. For the female lead, Bhardwaj wanted a fresh face with a Kashmiri look and a hint of innocence. Shahid suggested Shraddha Kapoor, and Bhardwaj agreed.
The complex, Oedipal tension between Hamlet and his mother was central to Haider. Vishal Bhardwaj knew he wanted Tabu, his Maqbool collaborator, for the role. But Tabu hesitated playing Shahid Kapoor's mother felt risky. She was worried how audiences would react. Bhardwaj convinced her, saying he didn't want her to look like a mother at all. He wanted her to look like his lover.
While the focus often stays on Shahid Kapoor and Tabu, the film's supporting cast provided its most haunting moments. Kay Kay Menon's excellent portrayal of the antagonist, Khurram, is a masterclass in complexity that remains underrated. However, it was Irrfan Khan's Roohdar who truly stole the limelight.
The badass entry of Roohdar
Darya bhi main, darakht bhi main ...
Jhelum bhi main, chinar bhi main ...
main tha, main hoon aur main hi rahoonga. (I am the river, I am the tree... I am Jhelum, I am Chinar... I was, I am, and I shall remain.)
Each re-watch of Haider proves it that Irrfan's Roohdar is a defining part of his legacy. The intensity feels deeper and more powerful every time you see it.
Appearing only at the interval, he becomes the spiritual anchor of the mystery. And what an electric entry it was! A slow, rhythmic walk from the shadows into focus, accompanied by a chilling background score. "Aap Jism hai, Main Rooh, Aap Faani hai Main La Faani" (You are a body, I'm a soul ... you're mortal and I'm immortal). Words that carry so much more weight now that the great Irrfan is no longer with us.
Director Vishal Bhardwaj later recalled that Irrfan Khan took the role for one reason: "Nobody has ever done anything like this on Kashmir, so I will do it."
Ultimately, Haider is more than just a collection of great performances. Every role, no matter how small, works together to create a powerful story of loss and betrayal. This is mirrored by Pankaj Kumar's cinematography, which uses the haunting, snow-covered landscape to reflect the inner turmoil of the characters.
The film's heart beats in the lyrics of Gulzar, which blend Shakespeare's tragedy with the sorrow of Kashmir.. In the song "Jhelum," the river becomes a witness to the region's trauma, while So Jao, a rare Bollywood graveyard song, brings dark humor to the tombstones. The visually stunning Bismil, a haunting, theatrical explosion where Haider unmasks his uncle's guilt. Yet even this artistic triumph wasn't immune to friction; the choice to film at the ancient Martand Sun Temple sparked a fierce backlash, with critics accusing the production of portraying the historic site as a 'devil's den.'
The Release And The Backlash
Released in October 2014, Haider wasn't huge commercially, yet it did reasonably well. Even though it was widely praised for its direction, screenplay, and performances, it also sparked protests over its portrayal of the Indian Army and the Kashmir conflict, with many claiming it glorified radicalism. It was the first Hindi film to directly reference AFSPA, enforced disappearances, and army excesses, openly critiquing militarisation. Yet it didn't reduce Kashmiris to mindless radicals but chose to focus on grief, confusion, rage, and moral ambiguity, offering a sympathetic lens on civilian trauma.
For ignoring the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, Vishal Bhardwaj clarified that he was never 'insensitive' toward their tragedy. During a session at the Jaipur Literature Festival, he explained, "...cinema gives you a choice and it was my choice to make a movie on this subject. Basically, the topic didn't allow me to focus on that tragedy."
The film faced online backlash, including a #BoycottHaider campaign, countered by #HaiderTrueCinema. Still, the controversy wasn't as explosive as similar films might face today, a sign of how much the times and tolerance have changed in just over a decade.
The Triumph At The National awards
Looking back, the legacy of Haider is also marked by a striking irony: despite the protests, it was the biggest winner at the 2015 National Film Awards. Under the same government administration that exists today, it secured five trophies- the highest tally for any film that year. Notably, these honours were for the screenplay, the dialogue, and the Bismil song (singer and choreography): the very elements that had been at the heart of the film's controversies.
Before Haider, Hindi cinema had either treated the region as a picturesque backdrop for songs or reduced it to cliches of guns and militants. Haider attempted something different: to see Kashmir from the inside. And in doing so, it became one of the rare mainstream films to engage with the conflict head-on.
Today, Vishal Bhardwaj doubts whether Haider could even be made. Shahid also feels that the space for complex political stories has shrunk, making the film's bold approach feel like part of a more open past. It brings us back to Hamlet's most famous question: 'To be, or not to be.' If a film that was honored with multiple National Awards in 2015 might be considered too 'risky' to produce in 2026, we have to ask: have we lost the patience to listen to uncomfortable truths?"
With O'Romeo, they chose to ride the wave of crowd-pleasing action cinema, and that decision says a lot.