‘ANGRY, HAIRY MAN COVERED IN BLOOD GENRE DISTURBS ME’

Imran Khan calls for softer, more humane storytelling amid violent cinema trend
Sonal Kalra (HINDUSTAN TIMES; April 4, 2026)

He was Hindi cinema’s quintessential chocolate boy ever since his debut in Jaane Tu… Ya Jaane Na (2008) — until he disappeared from the screen in 2015. Eleven years on, his resurgence has been organic, driven by fans who kept asking, “Where is Imran Khan?” On the cusp of his full-fledged comeback with Adhoore Hum Adhoore Tum, the actor opens up in a candid chat on The Right Angle with Sonal Kalra.

Now that you are set to make a comeback, are there any directors or co-actors on your wish list you would like to collaborate with?
I am aware of what is out there, but I haven’t been watching a lot of recent films. Frankly, the recent pivot towards massively heightened, violent cinema… it’s a genre I call ‘an angry, hairy man covered in blood’. Basically, every poster shows that man holding an oversized, almost comically large weapon. It disturbs me at some deep level. That’s why I felt I had to make Adhoore Hum Adhoore Tum. It comes as a counter to an entirely under-represented palette of emotions... empathy, gentleness, kindness, dignity. I feel these emotions are missing from our films today.

Your last release was in 2015 — an 11-year break. What were you up to?
I felt it was important to take time to understand who I am outside the public persona. I had started to feel I was losing touch with myself. If I am not an actor, if I don’t make movies, who am I? I needed to reconnect with that and spend time developing myself as a person.

There are people who’d kill to have that persona. It couldn’t have been easy to walk away. Was rediscovering yourself always on your mind?
I’ve always tried to look at the larger picture. It’s easy to get blinkered and focus only on what’s right in front of you. I wouldn’t say it was difficult or scary. When you’re in an emotional or psychological crisis, you function from a place of survival. The analogy I use is: You’re in a house that is burning. Running away isn’t bravery, it’s common sense. You’re just trying to save yourself.

Did you ever revisit your work during this time... a film or a song on TV? Any regrets?
No. I spent many years consciously distancing myself from that part of my life. I didn’t try to hold on to it... no social media, no public appearances. Those are things you do when you’re trying to cling to past glory. I severed those ties. Anyone from the industry or media who reached out, I would say, ‘No, I am not that person anymore’. There was never any regret.

When did that shift happen... when you decided to return?
It was the internet. Over the past few years, memes started popping up: ‘Where is Imran?’ ‘Life was good when he made rom-coms’. I don’t follow social media actively, but friends kept sending them. Eventually, it felt like, okay, I’ll just step out and say I’m doing fine. Then I started hearing from people. Their appreciation for my films stirred something creative in me again.

You mentioned rom-coms. With the current tilt towards large-scale, often violent cinema, do you think the genre can make a comeback?
It’s important to separate the creative process from the commercial side. We’ve become too obsessed with box office, tracking numbers like it’s a sport. It means nothing to me. Yes, globally, audiences are moving towards spectacle in theatres, and that’s fine. The film we’re making is a Netflix original. It’s not meant as a theatrical spectacle, it’s a gentle relationship story.

Will you stick to rom-coms, or explore diverse genres?
I’m not into action. Where I am in life right now, I’m not excited by violence, I find it disturbing. I don’t feel like telling those stories. I want to tell human stories, simpler, more intimate ones.

There was talk earlier about competition, especially with contemporaries like Ranbir Kapoor. How do you view that now?
I’ve never believed in creative competition. It reduces cinema to a sport, and that doesn’t do justice to films. Someone may be moved by a film, someone may not, that’s fine. But measuring it through numbers, I’ve never subscribed to that. For me, every opportunity to be part of a film is a win. There are so many who dream of it but never get the chance. It’s a privilege.

You took a long break... whether we call it burnout or not. For someone considering stepping away for their mental health, what advice would you give? It’s not an easy decision.
Certainly, it’s never easy. I was able to make that choice from a position of privilege. Coming from a film family, doors opened for me early on that may not have for others. I was fortunate to have worked enough and earned well, so by the time I was 30, I had a level of financial security that’s uncommon. That gave me the freedom to make choices that many people may not have.

That said, anyone who has worked in the film industry for a reasonable amount of time may also reach a place of financial stability. What comes next is the ability to step back and say, ‘This is enough’. You may always want more, but you don’t necessarily need more.

Then it becomes a question of what you truly value. Someone far more successful or wealthy than me may still feel compelled to show up everywhere, to keep doing more. To be able to say, ‘I don’t need this, I don’t have to do that’, and let go of that fear, that’s the difficult part.