The trend of cutting disturbing teasers and the toxic, dhurandhar cinematic language

Let's start with something simple.

Have you noticed how trailers or teasers don't tease any more? They tell. Loudly. Clearly. Sometimes uncomfortably.

Dhurandhar, Dhurandhar: The Revenge, Assi, Toxic -- these aren't trailers or teasers that ease you into their worlds. They don't dim the lights and ask you to lean forward. They turn the lights on and show you everything. Blood, rage, humiliation, violence -- emotional and physical -- laid out upfront, no waiting for the film to get there.

And before you think this is about excess, pause for a second. This isn't random. It's intentional.

Take Dhurandhar. Both teasers are upfront about what kind of world the film occupies -- terrorism, underworld politics, criminal networks, revenge. There's no attempt to soften the blow or make it palatable. The message is clear: this is not a comfortable story, and it doesn't want to be one.

Trade expert Ramesh Bala believes this bluntness comes from how viewing habits have shifted. He says since the pandemic, a lot of us -- especially younger audiences -- have been watching international content regularly. Korean shows, American action films, zombie and slasher genres. Violence that once felt extreme now looks familiar.

"So today's youth thinks it's very cool to see violence on screen," Bala says. And since that audience is now the primary target group, filmmakers are no longer holding back.

According to him, Dhurandhar's violence reflects the world it portrays. A film set in the underbelly of terrorism and organised crime cannot afford to look gentle. In that sense, the brutality is meant to look honest. And yes, makers do believe that the more brutally honest it looks, the more real -- and sellable -- it appears. Reducing it is not on their agenda. That, they feel, is for the censor board to decide.

But stay with me for a moment.

Because somewhere here, honesty starts slipping into something else.

Realism or Provocation?

Let's talk about Toxic.

If you watched the teaser and felt unsure about how you were supposed to react -- that discomfort wasn't accidental. Violence in a graveyard. Intimacy is placed right next to aggression. Images designed not just to attract attention, but to provoke reaction.

Bala agrees that this is where the line blurs. Toxic arrives after KGF: Chapter 2, a film that sets expectations at an almost impossible level. "So how do you meet that expectation?" he asks, adding, "Show something out of the box. Show something provocative."

"And it worked. The teaser got views. It got backlash. It got conversations going. In today’s ecosystem, that's the job done," he says.

Producer and trade expert Girish Johar puts it simply: even criticism helps. "At the end of the day, the eyeballs are received," he says. Awareness is the first win.

But Johar also reminds us that, in Toxic's case, those controversial images were meant to define the character. The violence, the intimacy, the chaos -- all of it was used to establish who this man is and the kind of world he belongs to. Sometimes, especially with big films, controversy is not a by-product. It's a tool, he implies.

Now pause here. Are you still with me? Because this is where it gets interesting.

Who's really making these trailers?

It's easy to say these teasers are being made by marketing teams chasing virality rather than storytellers serving the film. But the reality is messier.

Bala explains that storytellers and marketing teams usually work together. Multiple versions are cut. Debated. Tweaked. The first cut almost never survives. "Marketing teams do push for what will travel better online, but the final teaser is usually a collective call," he explains.

Johar agrees. "And Assi is a good example of that balance. Its trailer doesn't scream for attention. The makers labelled it an "urgent watch" -- a rare and deliberate move," he emphasises.

The discomfort in Assi doesn't feel artificial or created for buzz. It feels necessary. The violence isn't there to shock you into watching; it's there to tell you why this story matters. And that difference is important.

Have we just... stopped reacting?

Let's ask the uncomfortable question: Have we become numb?

Bala believes Indian audiences have, to an extent, become desensitised. Earlier, the censor board acted as a strong gatekeeper. "Today, it's far more liberal, especially with violence," he says. An 'A' certificate often gives filmmakers the freedom to show extreme brutality: beheadings, executions, bloodshed -- with little resistance.

And audiences are accepting it. Films like Marco, a Malayalam film, found takers across languages and regions despite their violent content. There hasn't been a strong pushback yet. If anything, consumption is growing.

Johar looks at it differently, though. He argues that Indian audiences always had the appetite, it has simply evolved now. From Kabir Singh (2019) to Animal (2023), emotional cruelty paved the way for physical brutality. "It kept growing," he says, adding that "with Dhurandhar, it seems to have peaked."

But, and this matters, he draws a clear line. Violence alone doesn't work.

Indian audiences are still driven by emotion. Action needs emotional grounding. "Animal wasn't just brutal, it was rooted in a father-son conflict. Dhurandhar, too, carries emotional weight beneath the bloodshed," he highlights.

Without that, brutality feels empty. And you know it when you see it.

Is shock now necessary?

Here's the thing both experts agree on: Shock is not mandatory.

"Shock is not necessary in storytelling," Bala says. "Some filmmakers believe it's cool, or that it's their signature, but it isn't a rule," he goes on.

Johar backs this up with examples from other genres -- comedies, romances -- that work purely on writing, performances and emotion. It always depends on the story you're telling. Shock has simply become a shortcut in a crowded content space. Not a rule. A tool.

And like all tools, it can build or damage.

So where does that leave us?

If you have stayed this far, thank you. Because this conversation isn't about judging films or policing creativity. It's about noticing a shift.

These trailers don't ask if the audience is ready. They are telling them what kind of world they are walking into. Loudly. Clearly. Sometimes brutally. As filmmakers push boundaries, the censor board is being forced to evolve. Johar believes "creativity can't be endlessly curbed, but lines still matter."

Cinema reflects society at a given moment. And right now, we live in a moment that is impatient, overstimulated, globally exposed, and far less interested in suggestions.

Whether this makes cinema braver, or louder, is something only the films, not their trailers, will eventually answer. But if nothing else, these teasers have done one thing right: They have made us stop, watch, and talk.

And if you are still here, reading this, you are already part of that conversation.