Forget superheroes, Bollywood's real universe is rooted in folklore

There’s a certain poetry in what’s happening to Indian cinema right now. After years of superhero spectacles, glossy love stories, and algorithm-chasing OTT dramas, the films winning hearts—and the box office—aren’t set in imagined futures. They are rooted in the past. Not the historical-epic kind, but in the myths and whispered stories that live in India’s collective memory. From Kantara’s sacred fury to Stree’s haunted humour, and now Thamma’s eerie, love-meets-lore energy, Bollywood (and its regional counterparts) is rediscovering the magic of folklore. These films take tales our grandparents told by candlelight and give them a bold, cinematic twist: part horror, part comedy, part divine spectacle. The result? A wave of storytelling that feels deeply Indian, visually electric, and surprisingly new.

For a long time, mainstream Hindi cinema looked outward. It borrowed from global templates: biopics with international backdrops, romances shot on European bridges, thrillers polished to Hollywood standards. But audiences, it seems, have grown tired of the same slick sameness. When Stree arrived in 2018, no one expected it to shift the cultural temperature the way it did.

A horror-comedy inspired by an urban legend about a ghost who abducts men at night, Stree turned a small-town superstition into social satire. Its mix of scares, small-town humour, and gender commentary hit a nerve, becoming one of the biggest surprise blockbusters of the decade. Suddenly, folklore wasn’t quaint or dusty, it was the freshest genre in the room.

From myths to multiplexes

That energy only grew. The same studio behind Stree—Maddock Films—built an entire cinematic universe around Indian folklore, turning supernatural stories into high-concept entertainment. Bhediya, Munjya, and now Thamma are all part of the “Maddock Horror Comedy Universe,” a series of interconnected films that reimagine regional myths through humour and heart.

Thamma, their latest Diwali release starring Ayushmann Khurrana and Rashmika Mandanna, takes this formula even further. The film blends horror, romance, and mythology into one chaotic, blood-soaked love story, introducing audiences to the concept of “betaalism”—a uniquely Indian take on the vampire myth. Instead of leaning on Western tropes, Thamma builds its supernatural world from desi roots: rituals, symbols, and belief systems that feel recognisably our own.

It’s not just Hindi cinema leading the way. Across languages, regional films are showing that local specificity is the new universality. Kantara, steeped in the traditions of Bhoota Kola in coastal Karnataka, became a national phenomenon not because it simplified its culture, but because it leaned into it completely. Its devotional intensity, rootedness in land and faith, and thrilling emotional core struck a chord far beyond its linguistic borders.

The same happened with Tumbbad, a film that didn’t fit neatly into any genre but quietly became a cult classic. Set in a rain-soaked village and built around the myth of a forgotten god of greed, it explored the moral consequences of desire through haunting visuals and allegory. It proved that folklore isn’t just about ghosts and goddesses—it can also hold up a mirror to human nature.

This new wave has also pushed the craft of filmmaking forward. When directors choose to tell stories set in villages, forests, and mythic landscapes, everything—sound, lighting, costume, design—must feel organic. Production designers draw from regional architecture, music directors blend folk sounds with modern scores, and VFX teams find ways to make rituals and spirits look both magical and believable. Every detail becomes a bridge between the ancient and the cinematic.

Gen Z, ghosts, and the goddess revival

What’s most fascinating about this folklore revival is who’s driving it—young audiences. Gen Z, the same generation that lives on TikTok astrology videos and meme spirituality, is also deeply drawn to cultural storytelling that feels rooted. In a world of curated identities and content overload, folklore feels raw, emotional, and real.

Films like Bulbbul tapped into that energy beautifully. Its crimson visuals and reimagining of the “chudail” myth turned what was once a symbol of fear into one of power. The story of a wronged woman who becomes a supernatural avenger felt both timeless and distinctly modern. That same thread continues in Thamma, which frames its female lead within an atmosphere of mystery, myth, and moral complexity—just the kind of layered storytelling younger viewers crave.

These films also look incredible on social media. Their cinematic worlds, filled with divine rituals, haunted forests, and surreal colour palettes, lend themselves perfectly to aesthetic edits and fan art. Every teaser sparks online theories, memes, and moodboards. Folklore has become not just a genre but a full-fledged pop culture aesthetic: one part mystic, one part maximalist, and entirely Indian.

Shared universes like Maddock’s add another layer of fun. The interconnected stories and cameos make fans rewatch films to spot clues and connections, giving Indian cinema its own homegrown equivalent of the Marvel multiverse, except this one runs on myths, monsters, and laughter.

The future looks homegrown

The return of folklore marks a bigger cultural shift. After years of chasing global trends, Indian cinema is finally looking inward—and finding gold. These stories don’t need to be “modernised” to be relevant; they already hold timeless themes of love, faith, revenge, and redemption.

Whether it’s a dancer channelling a forest deity, a spirit seeking justice, or a love story caught between the mortal and the mythical, filmmakers are realising that our oldest tales still have the power to surprise us. Folklore is no longer background texture; it’s front and centre, cinematic and unapologetically desi.

For audiences, especially young ones, that feels like a homecoming. After all, who needs caped crusaders when you have your own gods, ghosts, and grandmothers’ stories lighting up the big screen?

Lead image: Netflix

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