The West Bengal government, led by Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee, has recently introduced a regulation requiring cinema halls in the state to screen at least one Bengali-language film every day during the prime time slot of 3 PM to 9 PM. The directive, which applies throughout the year, is aimed at giving the regional film industry more visibility in the face of Bollywood’s overwhelming dominance on theatre screens. While the move has drawn praise from some as a necessary step to protect local cinema, others see it as a surface-level solution that fails to address the deeper problems that have plagued the industry for decades.
This decision comes against the backdrop of the once-glorious Bengali film industry’s long decline. In 1935, filmmaker and actor Pramathesh Chandra Barua brought Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas to life on screen in Bengali, creating an enduring cultural touchstone and marking one of the industry’s greatest commercial successes. However, by 1939, World War II and the threat of Japanese aerial bombings forced many Calcutta-based filmmakers to relocate to Bombay, triggering an exodus of talent that Bengal’s cinema never fully recovered from. The industry retained cultural prestige thanks to the works of auteurs like Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen, and Ritwik Ghatak, and commercial icons like Uttam Kumar, but over the past two decades, it has increasingly leaned on uninspired remakes of South Indian blockbusters, leading to creative stagnation.
The government’s mandate has been met with sharply divided opinions. Filmmaker Utpal Borpujari supports the move, pointing to similar policies in Maharashtra that helped revitalise the Marathi film industry by ensuring theatre access in the face of Bollywood’s bulk bookings. He believes screen reservation can protect regional cinema from being completely overshadowed. On the other hand, senior journalist and cinema author Avijit Ghosh argues that the film business should be guided by audience demand, and that meaningful revitalisation would require financial incentives, tax benefits, and easier production loans rather than imposing screening quotas on theatres.
Critics also point out that the success of such a mandate hinges on the availability of compelling content. In June alone, 13 Bengali films were competing for screen space, yet many filmmakers complained of insufficient showings. If the industry continues to churn out low-quality remakes when audiences can easily access the originals on streaming platforms, the mandate risks leaving theatres half-empty. The issue, according to detractors, is not just access but the quality and originality of the films being made.
Political motivations are also being read into the move. With the 2026 West Bengal Assembly elections on the horizon, the Trinamool Congress is positioning language and cultural identity at the centre of its campaign, framing this cinema policy as part of a broader “Bhasha Andolan” or language movement. However, some industry voices believe the party’s track record of turning popular actors into political candidates, alongside charges of nepotism and factionalism, has contributed to the industry’s decline. The screen quota policy, they argue, risks being more of a populist gesture than a genuine recovery plan.
The Devdas metaphor—rooted in Barua’s 1935 classic—looms large over the debate. Just as the tragic hero wallows in self-pity instead of changing his circumstances, critics fear the Bengali film industry is being encouraged to rely on sympathy and protectionism rather than building the financial and creative strength needed for sustainable growth. True revival, they insist, must draw inspiration from the pride and innovation of past legends like Ray, Ghatak, Mrinal Sen, Rituparno Ghosh, and Aparna Sen, rather than clinging to measures that risk becoming symbolic rather than transformative.
