The missing mass in media: How reels and niches replaced shared moments

The collective sighing over an actor, a film, an ad, or a song is gone - today's media has fractured into endless reels, niches, and influencers

Dance in a pub, at a house party, or a wedding anywhere in India, and the songs that get everyone going are from the eighties, nineties, and up to about 2019. Come Chaiyya Chaiyya (Dil Se, 1998) and half the people kneel on the dance floor striking the Shah Rukh Khan-on-the-moving-train pose. Two years ago, at a wedding in Kovalam (Kerala), over 150 of us danced till the wee hours of the morning to everything from Chura ke Dil Mera (Main Khiladi Tu Anari, 1994) to Lungi Dance (Chennai Express, 2013). Incidentally, the DJ hadn’t been told what numbers to play at this Maharashtrian-Malayalee wedding.

 

Our collective memory of the popular is what makes the whole experience fun. That is true for films and TV shows too. Buniyaad, Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi, or Thirumathi Selvam were watched by hundreds of millions of viewers. And then discussed the next morning in homes and offices. Ditto for, say, a Sholay (1975), Dalapathi (1991) or Dangal (2016) among other Indian blockbusters. The songs, films, shows that are mass hits become part of popular culture. They can be referenced easily in a crowd, at gatherings or among friends and increasingly on social media. From “Pushpa, I hate tears,” (Amar Prem, 1972) to “Kitne aadmi the?” (Sholay,1975) and “Jaa Jee le apni Zindagi Simran” (Dilwale Dulhania le Jaayenge, 1995), the language of popular culture has always been a potpourri made up of things from films, music, and television.

 

These are, in every sense of the word, mass media. It took Shah Rukh Khan’s 60th birthday on November 2 and Piyush Pandey’s passing on October 24 to highlight this, again.

 

Mr Khan’s birthday has become a national event. Thousands of people wait for hours outside his house for a glimpse of the man. From adverts to reels, the whole media ecosystem goes into overdrive to celebrate “SRK day”. Much of it is a manifestation of the joy his cinema has brought. So many of his 100-odd films — Kabhi Haan Kabhi Na, Chak De India, Kal Ho Na Ho — were not just blockbusters but have defined how we think of love, friendship, family, country, among other things. Twenty of the 130 biggest Indian hits in the last 25 years are Mr Khan’s, going by a recent IMDb report. His fandom, estimated at 3.5 billion people globally, stretches to mainstream audiences in Germany, the United Kingdom, and Australia, among other countries.

 

Mr Khan is called the last of the superstars — rightly so. It is well-nigh impossible for a person to become one now; not because they may not have talent but because there is no mass media. The media ecosystem has shattered into a million different reels, niches and influencers, all controlled by a handful of platforms such as Google, Meta or Amazon. We do not watch a movie, a show or any form of information and entertainment in a large enough mass for it to become a common reference. As our screen hours are spent on reels, memes, messaging and web series — largely on the phone — much of our consumption is now personal. The opportunities for common media experiences keep reducing.

 

Rajesh Khanna, Rajnikant or Amitabh Bachchan became superstars because we lived in the age of mass media. Mr Khan started working in films in the early nineties, when the common collective experience defined success. Ditto for Piyush Pandey. Television was on the rise when he came up through the ranks at Ogilvy. At its peak in 2019, TV reached 900 million Indians. What we watched was fodder for conversation, including the ads. It helped showcase and re-emphasise the brand messages from Fevicol Ka Jod to Har Ghar Kuch Kehta Hai, and other such enduring taglines. When Pandey died, Fevicol, Amul, Asian Paints released huge ads as tributes. Think of a single adman who would be the face of ads for, say, Zomato or Myntra, among the thousands of big advertisers. Most now eschew brand-building in favour of “performance marketing,” focusing on immediate results — a click-through or a sale. This shift is a reflection of where consumers are going.

 

Television’s reach is declining — it is at 650 million people currently. Though online reaches 523 million Indians, a bulk of them do not watch the same thing. Therefore, it does not have the same impact. In the heydays, big TV shows reached 150-300 million people. The biggest films reach 30-100 million people in theatres alone. Add viewership on TV or streaming that could go up to 300 million and more for a hit. One influencer or creator with a few million followers is a sliver;  there are millions of them. Aggregating them to suit your brand is what the game is about. There is no collective sighing over an actor, a film, an ad or a song any longer — that is why we find joy in the old ones from shared memory.

 

This is especially true of urban India. The rural part remains about mass media, thanks to lower internet penetration and the dominance of DD Freedish, a state operated free DTH service.

 

In the rest of the Indian market, starved of the mass effect, anything that can replicate it is precious. The price of media rights to the IPL have tripled over the last two seasons as broadcasters and tech firms rush to pay top dollar for the 300-400 million people it reaches. On the other hand, live events are booming. Urban consumers are paying good money for the feel of a shared experience whether it comes from laughing at Zakir Khan’s anecdotes or watching Coldplay in concert. 

 

The search for the “mass” in media continues.

 

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