This provocation lands in an industry primed for it. After Animal and Aditya Dhar’s Dhurandhar, the alpha male demands scrutiny. Too realistic to be dismissed as propaganda, Dhar’s film presents hypermasculinity as a tool for confronting modern anxieties — terrorism in Dhurandhar, capitalism in KGF, corruption in Jawan. Is this masculinity grounded in biology, or just spectacle dressed as inevitability?
Animal provides the clearest manifesto. Ranbir Kapoor’s Ranvijay doesn’t merely behave violently; he theorises it. Alphas act, dominate, and protect; betas write poetry and ask for respect. Women, in this worldview, instinctively choose strength over softness. Delivered with conviction, the argument feels less like opinion than natural law.
That sense of inevitability draws from animal metaphors embedded in everyday language — pecking orders, top dogs, and natural hierarchies —imagining power as a clean ladder that assembles itself. Cinema loves this logic because it is visually efficient but the science behind these metaphors is far less cinematic. The modern idea of hierarchy entered the lexicon through Norwegian zoologist Thorleif Schjelderup-Ebbe in the 1920s. Studying domestic chickens, he observed a rigid social system in which each bird knew exactly whom it could peck without retaliation and whom it had to yield to. This linear ranking became known as the “pecking order”— a stable, visible structure that would shape how power is imagined everywhere from office politics to movie heroes.
This framework was extended to wolves by zoologist Rudolf Schenkel in the 1940s. Observing captive packs, Schenkel described a rigid hierarchy led by a dominant “alpha”, aka the top dog. Crucially, the alpha female was a co-ruler. What Schenkel was really documenting, however, was behaviour distorted by captivity: Stress and forced competition mistaken for nature. American biologist L David Mech popularised this model, through his book The Wolf: The Ecology and Behavior of an Endangered Species, in the 1970s, then spent decades dismantling it. Studying wolves in the wild, Mech found that packs are usually family units. The so-called alphas are simply parents. Leadership is exercised through care and coordination, not constant violence. Dominance is quiet and invested in continuity.
Primatology sharpens the correction. Frans de Waal’s studies of chimpanzees show that the most successful alpha males are rarely bullies. De Waal coined the term “Machiavellian intelligence”: The ability to navigate complex social relationships. Individuals who rely on intimidation alone are frequently overthrown by coalitions of smaller, socially adept rivals. Across more than 120 primate species, strict male dominance is rare and females often wield decisive influence.
Even physiology resists the fantasy: Alpha males carry stress levels comparable to those at the bottom of the hierarchy. Power is labour.
Indian cinema has long understood this intuitively. Amitabh Bachchan’s Angry Young Man was furious, but his violence carried moral weight. In Deewar, Vijay had the property, the bank balance, yet losing his mother’s love rendered him hollow. “Mere paas maa hai” distilled moral authority over material accumulation, a reminder that dominance without legitimacy collapses. Dhurandhar gestures towards this older wisdom. Its alpha villain, the “apex predator” Rehman Dakait, is ruthless but not impulsive. Unlike Animal’s hero Ranvijay, he is respectful towards his wife. Seeking revenge for his son’s death, he does not simply erupt; he consults his accomplices, and only then commits. Violence is socially negotiated, and remains embedded in group consent.
Indian cinema, however, continues to borrow from biology, often flattening it into spectacle. Animal sells a zero-sum fantasy. Toxic elevates posture into principle. Dhurandhar hints at a more accurate truth. The loudest man may command attention, but authority belongs to the one the group still gathers around when the smoke clears.
 "Yash's new poster from Toxic released")