When The Streaming Franchise Leaves The Sofa
When Mirzapur: The Movie opened in Indian cinemas this September, its success seemed to suggest that a boundary between streaming and theatrical cinema had become increasingly porous.
Mirzapur was not born in a cinema. It was born on a streaming service, where audiences could watch it privately, at their own pace, one episode after another. Yet the same audience eventually paid to see its characters on a large screen. The more interesting question, then, is not whether a successful web series can become a successful film. Mirzapur: The Movie has already answered that. The question is what its success might encourage the industry to do next.
Could this be the beginning of a phase in which established streaming franchises are increasingly expanded onto the big screen?
The possibility would have seemed less obvious eight years ago.
On July 6, 2018, Netflix began streaming the first season of Sacred Games, an eight-episode series directed by Vikramaditya Motwane and Anurag Kashyap. Its arrival marked an important moment in the early history of Indian streaming. The series showed that a streaming show could command the kind of cultural attention once reserved for theatrical films and television. Streaming was beginning to offer something television had rarely sustained: ambitious, long-form storytelling without the constraints of a conventional broadcast schedule.
A few months later, Mirzapur arrived on Amazon Prime Video. Its first season introduced audiences to the Tripathi family, Guddu Pandit and the violent ecosystem surrounding the fictional Uttar Pradesh town. Munna Bhaiya, Kaleen Bhaiya and Guddu Pandit gradually became more than characters in a streaming series. They became recognisable figures in popular culture.
The first season’s appeal was partly rooted in its rawness—the guns, drugs, violence and shifting loyalties—but also in the pleasure of familiarity. Audiences spent enough time with these characters for their mannerisms, grudges and relationships to acquire a life beyond the immediate demands of the plot. The subsequent seasons extended the world, though they did not quite reproduce the cultural impact of the first.
By then, however, Mirzapur had acquired something potentially more valuable than critical consensus: recognition.
That recognition is what Mirzapur: The Movie takes to the cinema.
Gurmmeet Singh’s film is a curious object. It is recognisably Mirzapur, but it also tries to give the material a different kind of propulsion. The structure is sleeker than the series, and the familiar struggle for supremacy is accompanied by more intimate concerns—fathers worrying about sons, mothers indulging their children, young love, and a gangster’s devotion to his mistress. The move to Rajasthan, with its dunes, arid landscapes and long highways, also gives the film a visual texture distinct from the series.
But familiarity can become a substitute for invention.
The film introduces a new antagonist, Babban Yadav, and constructs another set of rivalries and betrayals around him. Yet some of these motivations lack the force they need. A revenge thread built around unrequited love feels insufficiently integrated. At the same time, some familiar characters seem to exist more as reminders of the franchise’s history than as essential participants in a new story. By the climactic gunfights and hand-to-hand combat, the action begins to feel almost dutifully excessive.
The film gives its audience the violence, drama, and emotional turbulence it has come to expect. But it does not entirely answer a basic question: why does this story need to be a movie?
That question matters because Mirzapur: The Movie’s success could make the theatrical migration of streaming franchises increasingly attractive.
For a streaming service, a successful series has already accomplished much of the difficult work. It has established a world, cultivated an audience and tested its characters over several hours. A theatrical film based on such a property therefore arrives with something most original films spend considerable time building: an audience that already knows what it is coming to see.
The risk is that familiarity can turn cinema into an extension of brand management.
Cinema has always depended on sequels, adaptations and franchises. But streaming has made the relationship between audience and character unusually intimate. Viewers can spend twenty or thirty hours with a fictional world before encountering it in a theatre. That accumulated familiarity can become a powerful theatrical asset.
For years, the conventional anxiety was that streaming would take audiences away from cinemas. Mirzapur: The Movie suggests another possibility: streaming can sometimes create audiences that theatres subsequently inherit.
The industry will be watching this closely. If an established streaming property can generate a substantial theatrical return, the franchise calculation changes. Why stop at another season when the same characters might support a feature? Why confine a successful universe to a streaming catalogue when it can also generate theatrical revenue and renewed interest in the original series?
Yet there is a danger in treating recognition as a sufficient reason for expansion. A series can sustain a world because its episodic structure allows characters and conflicts to develop gradually. A film has to justify its existence within a much tighter frame. Mirzapur: The Movie occasionally feels caught between the two. Even with a running time of more than three hours, its canvas can feel strangely constricted.
This may be the paradox of taking a streaming series to the big screen. Streaming can afford to wander. A feature has to justify the journey.
The success of Mirzapur: The Movie may therefore matter not simply because it has performed well, but because it shows that an audience built on streaming can be mobilised theatrically. Whether that becomes a sustained trend will depend on what comes next—and on whether filmmakers can give these films a reason to exist beyond the familiarity of their characters.
Streaming once challenged the theatrical model by changing where we watched. Now, its most successful franchises may be helping cinema rediscover the commercial power of what audiences already know.
The question is whether the big screen will offer these characters a larger world—or merely a larger screen.
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Dipankar Sarkar is a film critic who contributes to different publications- both national and international. He is a Research Fellowship from the NFAI, Pune, India, and was one of the panelists for the selection of world cinema at the 27th International Film Festival of Kerala in 2022.
