In Ek Tha Tiger's opening, Kabir Khan delivers the most subversive Salman Khan entry and sets the spy universe template

Indian Express

2 days ago

A Salman Khan entry is a genre in itself. Most of my early teens were spent watching him, and, through him, watching a theatre come alive. So, whether it was his slow-mo intro walk in Wanted, the film that pulled him back from the brink, reviving a near-dead career and letting him reclaim that action-superstar swagger (much like what Pathaan did for Shah Rukh Khan, years later). Or that explosive, crowd-gone-wild entry in Dabangg, which sealed his comeback with a punch (again, much like what Jawan did for Shah Rukh, years later). Or even the ridiculous joyride of Bodyguard, where you could cheer at the silliness while also laughing at it. But none, whatsoever, came close to what Kabir Khan pulled off with the opening of Ek Tha Tiger. It's now a textbook example of how you introduce your superstar, but through a character. It's now a classic illustration of how you pander to his fan constituency, without ever compromising on world-building.
Before grasping how seminal Kabir Khan's entry scene was in Yash Raj's first foray into the spy-universe saga (even if it was only branded as such later), it's important to look at the kind of entries Salman had been part of up until then. You don't need to dig too far back, the last three mentioned above make the point well enough. Wanted, Dabangg, Bodyguard. All three, in terms of craft and imagination, were fairly simplistic. Even in plotting, they reflected each other. In all three, Salman is either in a shady godown, a factory, or a dockyard, all looking oddly interchangeable, fighting off a bunch of baddies. There wasn't much thought, nor much invention. You could argue that Dabangg is the most enjoyable of the lot, earthy, and flirting with self-referentiality, while Wanted was the one that first laid down this template.
A closer look at these entry sequences reveals how remarkably static his physical presence is. He's pitched as an action hero who is as nonchalant as possible while still instilling fear in his nemesis. He's positioned as an action hero who exerts minimal effort while still overpowering his adversaries. Sure, he occasionally jumps, flies from one end to another, but that's just to create an illusion. The sense of motion is constructed not through his body, but through the direction, editing, and choreography around him. The craft is often edgier and faster-paced, working overtime to make him seem cooler than he actually is. Moreover, the spatial constraints of these sequences further accentuate the limited physicality at play. So, his environment is mobilized to compensate for his stillness. The spectacle is engineered to orbit around him, rather than emerge from him.
What Kabir Khan then accomplishes is a subversion of the rigidity that previously characterized Salman Khan's action sequences. Drawing upon the stylistic conventions of Hollywood spy thrillers, Kabir strategically situates the sequence in Iraq, thereby relocating the narrative away from the indistinct industrial settings (those factories and dockyards) that had previously constrained Salman's performances. Moreover, Kabir consciously minimizes conventional fight choreography, cognizant of Salman's relatively limited capacity for complex combat movement. Instead, the sequence foregrounds continuous locomotion: for nearly eight minutes, Salman's character engages in dynamic running, vaulting, and leaping. This sustained kineticism effectively reanimates the actor's physicality, compensating for earlier static portrayals and aligning more closely with the embodied agility characteristic of the spy genre. While most of the rooftop jumps and runs are done by a stunt double, one standout moment, however, is Salman's descent down a monumental staircase atop a sliding table, maintaining his characteristic swagger while firing at his adversaries. Rarely has gravity been employed so inventively within a set-piece.
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Kabir Khan's spatial recontextualization not only broadens the cinematic world but also revises the protagonist's physical grammar: an approach that would go on to define the foundational aesthetic and narrative logic of the YRF spy universe. Whether in War, Pathaan, or the subsequent Tiger films, the franchise consistently introduces its spies across various global geographies, each engaged in a spectacle of transnational action. Moreover, the opening, and indeed the broader narrative, of Ek Tha Tiger establishes the secular political ethos that defines the franchise. While the universe does excessively engage in the RAW vs. ISI dynamic, it consistently humanizes its Pakistani characters and gestures toward a politics where national borders are shown as constructs manipulated by power, not as barriers to empathy. The universe implicitly argues for a world in which love and harmony transcend the utility of weaponized nationalism.
In this context, the opening of Ek Tha Tiger takes on particular resonance. Tiger is seen executing a fellow agent who, having defected to Pakistan for monetary gain, is framed as a traitor. While the man may have 'sold his pocket,' Tiger, unbeknownst to himself at that moment, is about to surrender far more. His heart, his ideological certainties, and his allegiance to the very institution he serves. Over the course of the film, the foundational coordinates of his identity will be profoundly challenged. Watching the opening then retrospectively, makes you wonder how Tiger will eventually grow, not just in muscle, but in mind. How the idea of betrayal will shift, and how love, not of nation, but of a person, will take precedence. All of this makes Ek Tha Tiger look like an existential spy film, which, in many ways, it is. But it's also a full-blown masala entertainer. So you get one of the greatest masala moments in the opening scene: when for the first time we see Salman as Tiger. His face framed against the slow-motion burst of cigarette butts flying into the air, before he finally appears with a scarf wrapped, eyes locked in. Who knew that the scarf would go on to become as legendary as bhai himself?
Opening Act is a column where Anas Arif breaks down some of the greatest opening scenes in film and television.