Karan Johar Slams AI “Remix” of Bollywood Film Raanjhanaa, Calling It a Violation of Creative Intent

The filmmaker’s rebuke of an AI-generated alternate ending ignites a wider debate in Bollywood over authorship, consent, and the future of legacy film catalogs.

Kacy Bao, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Bollywood’s AI debate exploded this week after filmmaker Karan Johar condemned a studio for releasing an alternate ending to the 2013 romance Raanjhanaa that was generated using artificial intelligence. Johar called the move “a dangerous precedent” and “a betrayal of creative intent,” joining original director Aanand L. Rai in criticizing Eros International, the company behind the experiment. The controversy has quickly become a flashpoint in India’s film industry, where studios are testing AI “upgrades” to older titles as a cheap way to repackage their libraries for streaming audiences.

The AI version of Raanjhanaa—which quietly circulated on social media before Eros confirmed its authenticity—adds a new final sequence that diverges from the original’s tragic ending. For distributors, the appeal is obvious: AI-assisted “refreshes” can draw attention to familiar intellectual property without the cost of a full remaster. For filmmakers, however, it raises a foundational question: who gets to change a finished film once the director has signed off?

Johar’s comments triggered a wider conversation across India’s creative community about the ethical and legal boundaries of AI-driven restoration. India produces more than 1,500 films annually across Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, and other languages, with vast archives of older titles now being digitized for streaming. The temptation to retrofit classics with new visuals or endings is high—but so are the risks. Audiences may tolerate cosmetic improvements like color correction or audio restoration; they’re far less forgiving when narrative meaning is altered without consent.

Beyond artistic outrage, the Raanjhanaa case has exposed a potential legal gray zone. Under India’s copyright law, directors retain “moral rights,” including the right to object to distortions that harm their reputation or integrity. Studios typically control exploitation rights, but those moral rights persist even after a work is sold or licensed. If an AI system generates new story material without the director’s approval, does that constitute a distortion—or a derivative work? The courts may soon have to decide.

There’s also an economic dimension. India’s post-production sector—editors, colorists, VFX specialists—has boomed in recent years as streamers ramped up local content. But if AI tools can cheaply create “new” cuts, studios may bypass the artisans who would otherwise execute those jobs. Smaller craft unions, historically fragmented across regions, are beginning to coordinate with international guilds to establish disclosure and consent standards for digital replicas and derivative edits.

For viewers, the Raanjhanaa flap is a microcosm of a larger question now facing global cinema: are films permanent artworks or endlessly editable content? Some fans see alternate cuts as harmless fan service; others view them as algorithmic meddling that cheapens authorship. The emerging compromise may look like this: label AI-assisted changes clearly, secure written consent from creators or estates, and treat experimental versions as extras—not replacements.

India’s film libraries are deep, and the commercial logic for AI-driven refurbishing will only grow stronger as streaming competition tightens. But Johar’s public stance sends a warning shot: directors want a seat at the table before machines start rewriting their stories. Whether that principle becomes law or remains a professional norm could define how Bollywood navigates its own digital future.