1. Opening Scene: An AI-Authored Ending
In August 2025, Eros International reignited the passion and pain of Raanjhanaa, the 2013 Bollywood classic directed by Aanand L. Rai, by re-releasing its Tamil version, Ambikapathy, with a twist: an AI-generated happy ending. Gone is the tragic death of Kundan (Dhanush), replaced by a scene where he opens his eyes, alive, in a hospital bed. While some fans cheered, others, including Rai, called it an “abject betrayal” of the film’s soul. “To watch Raanjhanaa, a film born out of care, conflict, collaboration, and creative risk, be altered, repackaged, and re-released without my knowledge or consent has been nothing short of devastating,” Rai wrote on Instagram, distancing himself from the unauthorised re-release.
This isn’t just a Bollywood controversy; it’s a legal and ethical crisis exposing fault lines in India’s film industry. The Raanjhanaa saga, likely the first major Indian film re-released with AI edits, pits creative intent against commercial power, raising urgent questions: Who owns a film’s soul? Can producers legally reshape a director’s vision with AI? And what happens when technology outpaces the law? As Eros defends its “respectful creative reinterpretation,” citing sole copyright ownership, Rai and other industry voices decry the move as unethical, warning of a “dangerous precedent.”
This blog dives into the legal landscape, copyright, moral rights, and contracts, underpinning the Raanjhanaa re-release, explores AI’s broader implications for performers’ rights and censorship, and proposes reforms to protect creators in an era where algorithms threaten to rewrite cinematic history. With Indian law lagging behind technological advances, the time to act is now, before AI becomes the director and human creativity is relegated to a footnote.
2. The Legal Landscape: Producers vs. Directors
The Raanjhanaa re-release lays bare a stark reality: under Indian law, producers, not directors, hold the reins of a film’s fate. Eros International, as the sole copyright holder, claims full legal and ethical rights to re-release Raanjhanaa with an AI-generated ending, arguing it’s offering “a new emotional lens” that aligns with global cinema practices. Yet Rai’s public outrage, “I do not support or endorse the AI-altered version of Raanjhanaa. It is unauthorised”, highlights a disconnect between creative intent and legal control that demands scrutiny.
Copyright Ownership
Under Section 17(b) of the Copyright Act, 1957, the producer is the first owner of a cinematograph film, treated as a “work made for hire.” This principle, upheld in Indian Performing Right Society Ltd. v. Eastern India Motion Pictures Association, grants Eros ownership of Raanjhanaa’s music, visuals, and narrative, unless otherwise contracted. Sections 18 and 19 govern assignment and licensing, meaning Rai likely signed a contract transferring all IP rights to Eros, a standard practice in Bollywood. Such contracts often include clauses like: “The Director assigns all rights, title, and interest in the Film to the Producer,” leaving directors with no legal control post-release. Eros Group CEO Pradeep Dwivedi emphasized this, stating, “We are the sole and exclusive copyright holder and producer of Raanjhanaa, and are fully entitled to adapt and re-release the film.”
This legal framework reflects the producer’s dominance, treating films as “collective works” under Section 2(d)(v), where directors are contributors, not authors. Rai, despite co-producing Raanjhanaa under Colour Yellow Productions, likely lacks contractual veto power over post-release changes, as Eros holds exclusive rights. The Indian Contract Act, 1872, governs such agreements, and clauses restricting creative control could be challenged under Section 19 (voidability for lack of free consent) or Section 27 (restraint of trade) if deemed coercive. However, proving such claims is difficult, especially given that standard industry contracts favour producers.
Moral Rights
Directors like Rai turn to moral rights under Section 57 to protect their creative vision. Section 57 grants authors the right to claim authorship and prevent “distortion, mutilation, or modification” prejudicial to their honour or reputation. In Amar Nath Sehgal v. Union of India, the Delhi High Court upheld moral rights against mutilation, suggesting Rai could argue that the AI-altered ending undermines his artistic intent. Yet, moral rights in India are weak: they lapse upon the author’s death, unlike France’s perpetual droit moral, and proving reputational harm is a high bar. Rai’s claim that the happy ending strips Raanjhanaa of its “intent, context, and soul” is emotionally compelling but legally tenuous, as courts require concrete evidence of damage.
Eros argues the re-release is “clearly labelled and separate from the original,” mitigating claims of reputational harm. However, the lack of consultation with Rai, writer Himanshu Sharma, or actors Dhanush and Sonam Kapoor raises ethical questions, even if legally permissible. The Berne Convention (Article 6bis), which India follows, mandates moral rights protection, but India’s implementation under Section 57 falls short, leaving directors vulnerable to AI-driven alterations.
Contractual Realities
The Raanjhanaa case underscores the role of contracts in shaping creative control. Standard Bollywood contracts often strip directors of future rights. Rai’s contract with Eros likely included a blanket assignment of rights, limiting his recourse. Filmmakers can counter this by negotiating clauses under Section 19, such as: “The Producer shall consult the Director on any post-release modifications, including AI-generated edits.” Without such protections, directors remain at the mercy of producers’ commercial decisions.
3. AI’s Impact: A Threat Beyond One Film
The Raanjhanaa re-release, launched on August 1, 2025, in Tamil Nadu as Ambikapathy, is a landmark case, the first major Indian film re-released with an AI-generated ending. In the original, Kundan dies after being shot at a rally; in the AI version, he survives, with visuals so seamless that some viewers couldn’t distinguish them from reality. While Dhanush fans celebrated, others, including Rai, decried the “reckless takeover” of a film that resonated for its raw, tragic heart. This isn’t just about Raanjhanaa, it’s a warning of AI’s potential to reshape cinema without creators’ consent.
AI’s ability to alter performances raises legal and ethical red flags. Under Section 38 of the Copyright Act, performers like Dhanush and Sonam Kapoor have rights to prevent unauthorized use of their performances. If AI modified their likenesses or voices without consent, they could claim a violation, as seen in Star India Pvt. Ltd. v. Leo Burnett, which protected a performer’s image. Rai noted that “none of us were consulted” suggesting potential breaches of performers’ rights.
Ethically, AI edits risk deceiving audiences. Fans on X expressed mixed feelings: some praised the “realistic” AI climax, while others, like Avinash Ramachandran, called it “hauntingly creepy” and a butchering of art. Without clear labelling, viewers may assume they’re watching Rai’s vision, eroding trust in cinema. Globally, similar concerns arose in The Brutalist (2024), where AI altered actors’ accents, and Roadrunner (2021), where Anthony Bourdain’s voice was AI-generated, sparking backlash despite disclosures.
AI could also bypass censorship under the Cinematograph Act, 2023, by editing films to meet Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) guidelines without resubmission. For instance, Raanjhanaa’s controversial themes of caste and interfaith romance could be toned down for new markets, raising concerns under Article 19(2) of the Constitution, which permits reasonable restrictions on freedom of expression.
The Raanjhanaa case sets a precedent for AI-driven revisions across Eros’s film catalogue. If unchecked, producers could use AI to “freshen up” classics like Sholay or Mother India, altering performances or narratives without consent. The risk extends beyond Bollywood: AI could enable censorship circumvention or manipulate actors’ likenesses for propaganda, threatening the integrity of cinema as an art form.
4. Reforming the Future: Protecting Creators in the AI Era
The Raanjhanaa re-release is a wake-up call: Indian law must evolve to protect creators before AI becomes the ultimate auteur. Eros’s claim that the AI edit is “legally compliant” highlights the gap between current laws and technological realities. Here’s how to reform copyright, moral rights, and AI regulation to safeguard artistic integrity.
Amending Section 2(d) of the Copyright Act to recognise directors as co-authors, as in Germany, would grant Rai veto power over AI edits. A proposed clause could read: “The director shall be deemed a co-author of a cinematograph film, with rights to approve post-release modifications.” This aligns with the Berne Convention’s emphasis on authorship and would empower directors to protect their vision, especially against AI-driven changes.
Section 57’s moral rights must be made inalienable and perpetual, as in France’s droit moral. Lowering the threshold for proving reputational harm would enable Rai to challenge the AI ending as a distortion of Raanjhanaa’s tragic essence. In the Amar Nath Sehgal case, the court recognised moral rights as “the soul of an artist’s work,” a principle that could apply here if strengthened. Rai’s plea, “This was never just a film to us. It was shaped by human hands, human flaws, and human feeling”, underscores the need for robust protections.
New laws are needed to regulate AI in filmmaking:
- Disclosure: Mandate that AI-modified films carry clear disclaimers on posters, trailers, and credits, e.g., “This film includes AI-generated alterations.” Eros claims Ambikapathy is labelled as an alternate version, but in-film disclaimers are unclear.
- Consent: Require explicit consent from original creators, directors, writers, and actors before AI edits are made. Section 38 could be amended to extend performers’ rights to AI alterations.
- Labelling: Classify AI-modified films as “Derivative AI Work” to distinguish them from originals, akin to “Director’s Cuts.”
- Regulatory Oversight: Establish a body, like the CBFC, to monitor AI use, ensuring compliance with creators’ rights and ethical standards.
Filmmakers can protect themselves now by negotiating contracts under Section 19. Clauses like “The Producer shall consult the Director on any AI-generated edits” or “The Director retains moral rights post-release” could give Rai leverage. The Raanjhanaa case echoes Hollywood’s 2023 strikes, where writers and actors fought for AI protections. India can learn from these struggles, ensuring AI serves as a tool, not a replacement, for human creativity.
5. Conclusion
The AI-altered Raanjhanaa, re-released on August 1, 2025, is a cinematic milestone and a cautionary tale. While Dhanush fans may celebrate Kundan’s survival, the cost is steep: a director’s vision, crafted with “care, conflict, and collaboration,” has been rewritten without consent. This isn’t about clinging to tragedy; it’s about consent and creative control. Indian law, tethered to outdated notions of producer dominance, fails to protect directors, writers, and actors in the AI era. By recognising directors as co-authors, strengthening moral rights, and regulating AI through disclosure, consent, and labelling, India can balance innovation with artistic integrity. Filmmakers must negotiate smarter contracts, audiences must demand transparency, and bodies like the Film Directors’ Association must push for reform.
The Raanjhanaa saga proves that cinema’s soul lies in human hands, not algorithms. As Rai told fans, “If Raanjhanaa meant something to you, please know that this AI-altered version does not reflect who we were.” Let’s rewrite the legal script to ensure directors direct, not just during production, but long after the cameras stop rolling. The future of Indian cinema depends on it.
The film might have changed, but it’s not too late for the law to get its ending right.