Why I find Aishwarya Rai's and Deepika Padukone's Cannes outings troubling

New Indian Express

2 days ago

Bollywood stars like Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, Deepika Padukone, and Sonam Kapoor have long explored the Cannes Film Festival as a stage to showcase not their work but themselves, possibly because they are more attractive and intelligent than their movies.
Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, a Cannes veteran since 2002, is a prime example of Cannes commodity objectification. Her filmography, including commercial hits like Jodhaa Akbar or Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, prioritizes her as a spectacle over substance. Yet she is a red-carpet darling, frequently representing L'Oréal, and misrepresenting herself as an actor.
In 2022, Aishwarya wore a custom Gaurav Gupta Couture gown, described as a 'sculptural piece with minimal accessories', whatever that means, and a Dolce & Gabbana floral black dress. Her 2025 appearance featured an ivory Kadwa Banarasi saree by Manish Malhotra, paired with ruby heirloom jewelry from his High Jewelry line, with the saree alone estimated at ₹15-20 lakh ( $18,000-$24,000) and the jewelry potentially exceeding ₹1 crore ($120,000) due to its 500-carat ruby embellishments. A couple of great movies could be produced within the budget of her accessories.
Deepika Padukone, another L'Oréal ambassador, has also prioritized Cannes' glamour over cinematic heft. Her roles in films like Padmaavat or Bajirao Mastani dazzle visually but predictably lack narrative depth, with critics noting their reliance on lavish sets over storytelling.
In 2022, as a Cannes jury member, she wore a black and gold sequined Sabyasachi saree, estimated at ₹5-7 lakh ($6,000-$8,400), paired with statement jewelry from Sabyasachi's Bengal Royale Collection, valued at ₹10-15 lakh ($12,000-$18,000). Her red Louis Vuitton gown that year, with a plunging neckline and short train, was priced around $20,000-$30,000, with a diamond necklace adding $15,000-$25,000. Her 2018 fuchsia Ashi Studio gown cost approximately $15,000 to $25,000. These queenly ensembles contrast sharply with her film choices, like Gehraiyaan, which was panned for its shallow emotional core.
Sonam Kapoor, known for her fashion-forward image, has starred in instantly forgettable films like Players or Mausam, yet her Cannes appearances are meticulously curated. In 2018, she wore a custom Ralph & Russo lehenga, estimated at ₹20-25 lakh ($24,000-$30,000), with Chopard jewelry valued at $50,000-$80,000. Her 2017 baby pink Elie Saab gown, styled with chandelier earrings by Kalyan Jewels, cost around $15,000-$25,000, with accessories adding $10,000-$20,000. Her 2013 gold and white Anamika Khanna saree, paired with a statement nose ring, was priced at ₹8-10 lakh ($9,600-$12,000). These high-cost looks amplify her "fashionista" persona, but films like The Zoya Factor underscore her limited cinematic contribution.
Each year, a parade of Indian celebrities descends upon the French Riviera, draped in trailing gowns as long as a mile and tailored tuxedos, posing for paparazzi and flooding social media with carefully curated glamour shots.
If only the care that goes into gowns also went into their movies. The problem isn't their 'look at me' entries. Global film festivals thrive on international representation. But the stark disconnect between the mediocrity of our actors back home and the gravitas they attempt to project at Cannes is telling.
Bollywood, for all its cultural dominance and massive output—churning out over hundreds of films annually—rarely produces work that stands up to scrutiny. The majority of its mainstream fare is dull and tediously formulaic: melodramatic family sagas, recycled romantic tropes, or action flicks where the hero or the heroine triumphs over loud evil characters in oiled wigs. All of it guarantees ennui.
Since we are in a gender-neutral age, consider their Hollywood male cohorts like Brad Pitt or Leonardo De Caprio. Pitt produced 12 Years a Slave, and gave himself a small supporting role. He backed Moonlight and produced The Big Short—movies that tackle complex themes with nuance and ambition.
Leonardo DiCaprio's Appian Way Productions delivered The Revenant, The Wolf of Wall Street, and Killers of the Flower Moon, projects that push boundaries in craft and narrative.
These stars don't attend festivals just for clout; they're invested in cinema as an art form, using their influence to fund stories that challenge, provoke, or redefine the medium. When they appear at Cannes, it's often tied to a project with weight. Their red-carpet moments are a byproduct, not the purpose.
This isn't to say Indian cinema lacks talent or potential. Directors like Anurag Kashyap or Kiran Rao, Payal Kapadia, or Anant Mahadevan have shown what is possible when creativity trumps formula. But the stars who dominate Cannes' red carpet are rarely attached to such projects.
The Bollywood industry's occasional gems—like Gully Boy or Tumbbad—rarely match the storytelling depth or technical finesse of global cinema. Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, a Cannes regular for over two decades, again, is a case in point. Her filmography, while commercially successful, includes forgettable fare like Jodhaa Akbar or Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, which prioritize spectacle over substance.
The counterargument might be that Cannes is a global stage, and Bollywood's presence helps put Indian cinema on the map. Fair enough—visibility matters. But visibility for whom? The films showcased in Cannes' competitive sections are rarely the masala entertainers these stars headline.
Instead, it's the low-budget, independent Indian films—often ignored by Bollywood's elite—that occasionally make it to the festival's Un Certain Regard or parallel sections. All That We Imagine As Light is an example.
The stars' presence, then, feels like a distraction, drawing attention away from the filmmakers who deserve the spotlight. Their red-carpet antics overshadow the real work of Indian cinema, perpetuating a rather sadly true narrative that Bollywood is all glitz and no substance.
If Bollywood stars want to be taken seriously at Cannes, they should take a page from their Hollywood counterparts. Invest in stories that matter. For the price of a gown or two, make a good movie. Champion scripts that challenge conventions. Produce films that can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the best at the festival. Until then, their presence at Cannes will remain what it often feels like: a fashion show masquerading as a cinematic pilgrimage with little to show for it beyond Instagram reels and fleeting headlines on Page 3.
(CP Surendran is a poet, novelist and screenplay writer whose latest novel is One Love and the Many Lives of Osip B. He can be reached at [e-mail]. Views are personal.)