With no funding, backing, or recognition on home soil, the credit for the success of Payal Kapadia and her film truly goes to France, not India. It’s only the shame that is ours to bear.
The bitter irony of it all is hard to miss. In a year when the Hindi film industry is basking in the global spotlight for supposed achievements at Cannes Film Festival, an Indian director’s film — Payal Kapadia’s All We Imagine as Light, which won the Grand Prix award at the Cannes in May, becoming the first ‘Indian’ film to do so in 30 years — has been shortlisted by France as its official entry at the 2025 Oscars, along with three other films that also premiered at the Cannes. They include Jacques Audiard’s Emilia Perez, The Count of Monte-Cristo, directed by Alexandre de La Patellière and Matthieu Delaporte, and Alain Guiraudie’s Misericordia.
The irony: Kapadia’s triumph at Cannes was seen as a ‘win’ for India, but it’s hardly the case. India can claim little credit beyond the setting of the film and the nationality of its filmmaker. It’s not Indian in funding, in spirit, and certainly not in the ecosystem that produced it. It’s a strange paradox, a dissonance that speaks volumes about the state of independent cinema in India; indie filmmakers find global acclaim despite being completely unsupported — and often unrecognised — on home soil. Isn’t it a shame that a film that garnered so much publicity for India has still not been screened in its theatres?
The mirage of representation
The Cannes spotlight, typically reserved for art-house auteurs and bold filmmakers, made Kapadia’s film a centre of the discussions around Indian cinema. Yet, when the dust settled, the conversation wasn’t about India’s presence at the global level. Instead, it became about appropriation. Anurag Kashyap, who himself understands the battle for independent filmmakers, wasted no time in calling out the charade. “This is not India at Cannes,” he said, bluntly dismantling the illusion that the success of All We Imagine as Light somehow represents Indian cinema. “India has stopped supporting such cinema,” he added, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
The cold fact is that the movie didn’t find backing from any Indian production house or government body. It was financed by French producers, with zero support from the country it ostensibly represents. Even the film’s journey to Cannes — its milestone achievement — was made possible by resources outside India. Rana Daggubati’s Spirit Media only recently bought the rights to distribute the film domestically. The applause for the film, especially by the government types, rings hollow when one considers that India’s claim to this victory is as tenuous as it is superficial.
The truth Kashyap pointed out is one we can no longer afford to ignore: India celebrates success that it neither nurtures nor supports. Independent filmmakers like Kapadia operate in a vacuum, struggling against an industry that remains preoccupied with run-of-the-mill potboilers that can rake in the windfall at box office. The ecosystem that once fostered talents like Satyajit Ray or Shyam Benegal — who themselves faced uphill battles — has now calcified into a system that rewards mediocrity and formulaic entertainment while art-house films are left to wither on the vine.
India has, in fact, perfected the art of being absent from its own moments of success when it comes to cinema. It didn’t do anything for All We Imagine as Light. It didn’t finance it. It didn’t provide a platform for it. But it is more than happy to claim it when it wins a coveted prize at an international festival. This pattern has repeated itself over the years, where Indian talent gains recognition abroad only to return home to a deafening silence.
A system rigged for failure
Mainstream Bollywood fares dominate the scene, overshadowing any film that doesn’t fit into its rigid mould of blockbuster entertainment. The multiplex culture has been monopolised by commercial cinema, with little to no space for films that challenge the status quo or push the boundaries of storytelling. The state-backed film bodies rarely invest in filmmakers who seek to experiment, leaving them to fend for themselves. Kapadia, like many before her, had to look westward to find the backing she needed to bring her story to life.
It’s a deeply troubling situation. In the global marketplace of ideas, Indian cinema is barely a blip. While countries like France continue to invest in their filmmakers, nurturing a robust film culture that regularly competes on the international stage, India is conspicuously absent. Indian films that do make it to international festivals often do so despite the system, not because of it. And this isn’t just about financial backing; it’s about a mindset. Indian filmmakers who want to push boundaries, who want to tell stories that deviate from the mainstream, find themselves isolated. The system is rigged in favour of safe, commercial ventures, leaving little room for innovation or experimentation. It’s no wonder that filmmakers like Kapadia have to seek refuge abroad.
Perhaps it’s time we realised that the ecosystem needs a radical overhaul, starting with the realisation that art-house and independent films are not peripheral but central to the evolution of Indian cinema. Unless India starts to invest in its own talent, providing the necessary infrastructure and resources for its filmmakers, it will continue to lose out — not just on the global stage but in the eyes of its own people. As far as Payal Kapadia’s All We Imagine as Light is concerned, perhaps it’s best for India to accept that it’s not its chance to celebrate. We must be clear by now that the applause belongs to France, and the shame belongs to us.
