Why should Janhvi Kapoor alone carry the shame of being sexualised in Peddi?

There is something deeply unsettling about Janhvi Kapoor’s admission that she will “forever carry” the shame of how her character was presented in Peddi. Not because she acknowledged that something went wrong, but because her confession once again places the burden of accountability on the woman whose body was at the centre of the controversy, rather than on the people who collectively decided how that body would be filmed, framed and presented to audiences.

Janhvi admitted that she should have been more vigilant about how her character was presented, and her extreme ‘objectification’ in the film. But why is the actress the only one expected to carry the shame?

During her recent appearance on Koffee With Karan, she addressed the criticism surrounding her portrayal in the Ram Charan-starrer. Acknowledging the problem, she admitted that she could have been more vigilant, questioned the decisions being made and created a bigger scene when she felt uncomfortable. She also conceded that she should have used her privilege to assert herself more forcefully.

Janhvi Kapoor in Peddi.

Her honesty is commendable. It takes courage to revisit an experience that has already attracted considerable public scrutiny and acknowledge where one could have acted differently. But should a female actor really have to shoulder this much guilt for a creative decision that involved an entire filmmaking team?

After all, Janhvi did not conceptualise the camera angles, choreograph the movements, direct the scenes or have the final say in how the footage would be edited. These are collective filmmaking decisions involving the director, cinematographer, choreographer, producers and editors. Yet, when the portrayal becomes problematic, the actress is the one being asked why she did not stop it.

That is precisely where the larger conversation about accountability needs to begin. An entire team made those creative choices.

Why is only the female actor answerable?

The controversy surrounding Peddi was not simply about Janhvi wearing revealing clothes or participating in a sensual song. Sensuality, glamour and sexuality have always been part of cinema. Women can be desirable, confident and unapologetically expressive without their portrayal automatically becoming problematic.

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The issue was the manner in which her character was presented. Viewers questioned the repeated camera focus on her waist, navel and cleavage, the framing of certain sequences and the larger treatment of her character. Certain narrative choices, too, attracted criticism, particularly those concerning consent.

There is a significant difference between portraying a woman as sensual and reducing her to a collection of body parts. The former can be a legitimate creative choice; the latter raises questions about whose gaze the film is catering to and at whose expense.

What did the repeated emphasis on her midriff and cleavage contribute to her characterisation? Was it necessary to the storytelling, or was it simply an attempt to make the sequences more titillating? Why does mainstream cinema continue to believe that a woman’s physical appeal must be established through such an obsessive focus on specific body parts?

The director, Buchi Babu Sana, is responsible for the creative vision of the film. The cinematographer decides how a character is framed and what the camera chooses to emphasise. The choreographer contributes to the physical presentation of a song or sequence. The editor decides which shots survive the final cut. The producers oversee the film and its eventual presentation.

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Every department has a responsibility to question whether a creative choice serves the character and the story or merely turns the woman on screen into an object of visual consumption.

When scripts don’t specify camera angles, where does an actor’s consent stand?

Janhvi’s admission also brings attention to filmmaking practices she has experienced while working in the South Indian film industry. She has spoken about how scripts are not always bound or detailed enough to specify camera angles and the exact visual treatment of a scene. An actor may know what a particular sequence entails but may not necessarily know how the director and cinematographer intend to frame it until the scene is being shot.

Of course, filmmaking practices vary across productions, and the absence of a bound script or detailed camera directions is not exclusive to the South. Creative decisions often evolve on set. But that makes communication between the director and actor even more essential, not less.

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If camera angles are not mentioned in the script, there must be a conversation before the camera rolls. An actor agreeing to perform a particular scene cannot be interpreted as blanket consent to every possible visual treatment of it.

A woman agreeing to wear a certain outfit or perform a sensual sequence does not automatically mean she is comfortable with every camera angle or close-up. She deserves to know how she will be presented, and she should have the freedom to question a shot without fearing professional repercussions.

The absence of a detailed script cannot become an excuse for the absence of accountability.

Would the director have spoken up if there hadn’t been a backlash?

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Following the criticism, director Buchi Babu Sana issued an apology and indicated that changes would be made to the concerned portions of the film. While acknowledging the audience’s feedback, the makers maintained that there was no intention to objectify or disrespect a female character.

But that raises another uncomfortable question: had audiences not called out the portrayal, would there have been any acknowledgement that something was wrong?

Would the director have independently revisited those sequences? Would the makers have reconsidered their creative choices? Would the controversial portions have been modified without the public outcry?

We cannot know the answers. But the fact that changes were announced after the backlash makes it important to ask why such scrutiny was not exercised before the film reached audiences.

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An apology after public criticism is welcome, but it cannot substitute for accountability during the filmmaking process. Moreover, saying that there was no intention to objectify does not automatically absolve a filmmaker of the impact of the choices made. Intent and impact are two different things.

The uncomfortable power dynamics on a film set

Perhaps the most revealing part of Janhvi’s admission was her explanation of why she did not push back harder. She spoke about the expectation that an actor must listen to the director and remain professional.

There is an important conversation here about the power dynamics on film sets. An actor’s job is to interpret a character and collaborate with the filmmaker. But when does collaboration become unquestioning compliance? Why should an actress expressing discomfort about a camera angle or a particular visual treatment risk being labelled difficult, unprofessional or uncooperative?

A woman should not have to choose between protecting her boundaries and being considered a good professional.

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If an established actor like Janhvi, who comes from a film family and has access to considerable industry influence, felt apprehensive about making a bigger scene, imagine the position of an outsider. An actor without industry connections, a powerful surname or the assurance of another film waiting in the wings may have even less room to negotiate.

Would she risk questioning a director if doing so could mean being labelled unprofessional? Would she insist on seeing how a scene is being framed if she feared that the opportunity itself might disappear?

Janhvi has acknowledged that her privilege could have worked in her favour and that she should have leveraged it. She is right. But the fact that she did not fully exercise that privilege should not distract us from asking why women need extraordinary professional standing to assert what should be basic boundaries.

If this can happen to someone with Janhvi’s visibility and industry backing, what might be happening to women who do not have the same bargaining power?

Where was Ram Charan’s accountability?

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There is another dimension to this controversy that deserves attention: Ram Charan‘s position as the male lead and one of the biggest stars in Telugu cinema.

He is not the director, nor is he solely responsible for the way Janhvi’s character was filmed. But he is an actor in the film, a central participant in its romantic track and someone whose stardom gives him considerable influence.

Why should his responsibility end at performing his part?

Actors are collaborators in storytelling, not merely instruments who execute instructions. Male actors, particularly those who command enormous fan followings, have an opportunity to question how women are being represented opposite them. They can ask whether a scene is necessary, whether a romantic interaction respects consent and whether their female co-star is being given dignity and agency.

The criticism surrounding Peddi was not restricted to camera angles. Certain narrative choices also attracted scrutiny, particularly the portrayal of a man’s advances towards a woman who is initially unwilling.

Ram Charan may not have had the final say in the film’s creative decisions, but his stature makes it reasonable to expect him to participate in conversations about the representation of his co-star. Why are male stars rarely expected to demonstrate the same introspection that female actors are asked to display?

The point is not to single out Ram Charan as the sole culprit. It is to question a culture in which the male star’s performance remains the primary talking point while the woman is left to defend, explain or apologise for her portrayal.

Janhvi’s privilege should have been her leverage, not her burden

Janhvi’s acknowledgement that she should have used her privilege more effectively is perhaps the most important takeaway from her conversation. She has a surname that opens doors, visibility and a certain degree of professional bargaining power. She knows that. She also knows she could have used that position to question decisions that made her uncomfortable.

There is merit in holding her accountable for the choices she could have made. Being privileged also means having a responsibility to create space for people who may not enjoy the same freedom. She could have pushed harder, demanded greater clarity about the scenes and insisted on more control over how her character was presented.

But accountability must not become a convenient way for everyone else to escape scrutiny.

It is brave of Janhvi to admit that she could have done better. Her willingness to acknowledge that the portrayal was problematic is important. Her hope that directors will think twice before presenting a female lead in a similar manner is equally significant.

However, she should not have to carry the shame alone. The director must own his creative choices. The producers must examine the standards they uphold. The cinematographer and choreographer must question their contribution to the visual treatment. The male lead must recognise that his influence comes with responsibility.

And the industry must create an environment where female actors can question a creative decision without being made to feel that she is jeopardising her career.

Ultimately, the Peddi controversy should not become another episode in which a female actor is made to feel that she has failed women by participating in a problematic portrayal. It should become a moment of introspection for an industry that continues to give male filmmakers considerable authority over how women are seen, while expecting women to take responsibility for the consequences.

Janhvi says she will carry the shame. Perhaps she will. But the people who made those creative decisions should carry their share of the accountability, too.

Because a woman may be the one standing in front of the camera, but she is hardly ever the only person responsible for what the camera chooses to show.