The business of big musicals: How India's live theatre is evolving

“India has never really been without musical storytelling. What has changed is the format, scale and economics,” says Asad Lalljee, chief executive officer of Avid Learning and Curator of Mumbai's Royal Opera House, a century-old landmark which has reinvented itself after restoration as a venue for the performing arts.

Lalljee sees both a revival and the creation of a new market. Venues such as the National Centre for the Performing Arts (NCPA), Nita Mukesh Ambani Cultural Centre (NMACC) and Royal Opera House, all in Mumbai, have expanded production capabilities, while exposure to Broadway and London's West End has raised audience expectations.

For consumers, too, the proposition has changed. A large-format musical typically occupies two to two-and-a-half hours, with premium tickets often priced upwards of ₹3,000 to ₹5,000, depending on the production and seating category. For a family of four, that can mean ₹12,000 to ₹20,000 in tickets alone. Musical theatre is increasingly competing with concerts, fine dining, and other premium leisure experiences for discretionary spending. “People are willing to spend on live entertainment because it offers something that cannot be replicated on a screen,” says Lalljee.

Saregama, traditionally associated with recorded music, is among the companies expanding into large-format musical theatre, with productions such as 'Disco Dancer: The Musical' and 'Krishna'. Vikram Mehra, managing director, Saregama, believes the growth of digital entertainment has actually strengthened the desire for collective experiences. “More and more people, because of digitisation, want an experience outside their home, where they can consume entertainment collectively,” he says.

The emergence of world-class venues such as NMACC has been a game changer, making ambitious theatrical productions technically possible. But Mehra insists that the essentials of a successful musical have little to do with the size of its LED screens. “The story is the most important thing,” he says. Next comes the director, whose role, he believes, is as significant as in cinema. Every movement, dialogue and musical transition must be planned with precision.

Unlike film, where a scene can be shot repeatedly before the final cut is selected, theatre offers no retakes. The performance unfolding before the audience is the final take. 'Disco Dancer: The Musical', adapted from the 1982 hit film starring Mithun Chakraborty, draws on the nostalgia surrounding its songs and dance sequences. The challenge is to turn that familiarity into a compelling live experience rather than simply reproduce the film.

'Krishna', created with writer and lyricist Manoj Muntashir, takes a different approach. The production begins with Krishna's death, as his life unfolds before him. Through spoken word, music and dance, it explores his relationships with Radha, Gandhari, Draupadi, and Rukmini, revealing different dimensions of the epic.

“We are emotional people. We have to touch through emotions,” says Mehra, whose takeaway from the musical is that audiences do not want songs alone. They want dialogue, emotion, and something meaningful to create a memory from.

The evolution of live performance is not confined to familiar theatrical formats. Mumbai's famed NCPA is commissioning 'The Absence of PRESENCE', an interdisciplinary production bringing together the Symphony Orchestra of India (SOI) and dancer-choreographer Aditi Mangaldas.

Produced by Mangaldas' eponymous dance company, it combines live symphonic music, contemporary dance rooted in Kathak, poetry and visual art to explore the suffering of children caught in conflict and the possibility of hope. For Khushroo N Suntook, chairman of NCPA and co-founder of SOI, the production represents a shift from interpreting established musical repertoire to creating original work. “The Orchestra is not simply accompanying a dance performance; it is becoming part of it,” he says.

Such collaborations expand the definition of musical performance, bringing different artistic traditions together while demanding specialised talent and extensive rehearsal.

Behind the applause lies a complicated business. According to Lalljee, a large-scale Indian musical can easily cost several million, with particularly ambitious productions requiring substantially higher investments.

Mehra offers a glimpse of where the money goes. “The biggest cost of this game is the rehearsals,” he says. These can extend to three months, during which performers, choreographers and technical teams must be paid. Touring adds another layer of complexity. No two venues have identical stage dimensions, backstage arrangements or technical facilities. Choreography, entrances and lighting often need to be adjusted. Then there is the challenge of talent. Saregama insists on live singing in its musicals. Performers must be able to sing while dancing and acting, sometimes delivering demanding musical numbers while physically exerting themselves.

“You don't get this talent easily,” says Mehra. The company must also retain performers over extended periods, offering them continuity of work while preparing understudies for principal roles. A producer cannot afford to cancel a performance because a lead artist is unavailable. Backup performers must be trained to the same standard as the original cast. Sets, costumes, props, transport, venue rentals and marketing add further costs. The economics therefore depend heavily on ticket pricing, occupancy, touring, and the number of performances. A successful long-running production can spread its upfront expenditure across multiple shows. A spectacular one-off production has far fewer opportunities to recover its investment.

“The opportunity now is to move beyond spectacular one-off productions and build sustainable shows with an economic life beyond their premiere,” says Lalljee.

Not everyone believes that bigger LED screens make for better theatre. At a time when Indian musicals are embracing digital backdrops, sophisticated lighting and cinematic effects, one of the country's longest-running dance-dramas is doing precisely the opposite. 'Shri Ram', presented by New Delhi's Shriram Bharatiya Kala Kendra (SBKK), will complete 70 years in 2027. This year, after nearly 25 years, the production is returning to its traditional theatrical roots, replacing LED backdrops with handmade sets, redesigned costumes, and classical stagecraft. Even the lyrics return to the original chaupais (four-line stanzas) of Goswami Tulsidas' Ramcharitmanas.

“We cannot show Ayodhya on LED when we can make sets,” says Minaakshi S. Dass, executive trustee at SBKK. She believes even Gen Z audiences are growing tired of ubiquitous screens. Conceived and choreographed by Padma Shri Shobha Deepak Singh in 1957, Shri Ram grew out of her engagement with Hindi literature and the Ramcharitmanas. Its renewed staging, led by Principal Choreographer Shashidharan Nair and Associate Choreographer Rajkumar Sharma, preserves its traditional character while introducing fresh theatrical techniques. “Shri Ram is a tradition that has lived across generations,” says Shobha Deepak Singh. “Our endeavour is to preserve its soul while allowing the timeless values of the Ramayana to resonate with audiences today.”

Returning to traditional stagecraft does not necessarily mean cutting costs. Dass says production expenditure accounts for approximately half the show's total costs, while artists' fees and lighting add substantially to the bill.

The contrast captures a fascinating moment in India's live-entertainment industry. Some producers are investing in digital spectacle; others are rediscovering handcrafted sets and classical performance. Both are competing for audiences willing to pay for a memorable theatrical evening.

If producers are spending millions on spectacle, what matters most to the paying customer? Mehra's answer is surprisingly practical. Saregama conducted research among several thousand consumers to understand what could improve their experience of live events. The biggest concerns were not elaborate lighting or expensive sets. They were clean washrooms, accessible food, and safety. A consumer paying a premium for a musical is buying the entire experience, from entering the venue to leaving after the performance.

Mehra also discovered that audiences want more than uninterrupted entertainment. They appreciate conversation and life lessons woven into a performance, something he has observed in the appeal of live music artistes who engage with audiences between songs.

It helps explain why Saregama's 'Krishna' combines music and dance with philosophical storytelling rather than presenting a sequence of devotional songs. The same insight is relevant to the wider experience economy. Nostalgia-led tribute concerts featuring the music of ABBA and Boney M may not be theatrical musicals in the strict sense, but they attract audiences looking for familiar music in a shared live setting. The commercial opportunity lies in making the familiar old feel new.

Technology has undoubtedly transformed what producers can put on stage. But Lalljee believes the biggest change has been in audience expectations. With greater exposure to international productions, Indian audiences increasingly demand compelling stories, strong performers, excellent music and choreography alongside sophisticated production standards. The benchmark, he says, is shifting from “Is this good for India?” to simply “Is this a good production?”

That raises the stakes for producers. A grand opening may generate publicity, but repeat attendance and word-of-mouth depend on whether the experience justifies the ticket price. For an industry investing increasingly large sums in technology, Mehra offers an interesting perspective. “Innovation does not come from technology. It comes from anthropology,” he says. Understanding people, their emotions, and expectations must come first. Technology is no more than a means to the end.

It is a useful thought as India's musical-theatre industry becomes bigger, more ambitious, and more expensive. One production may boast digital projections and elaborate scenic effects. Another may deliberately discard LED screens in favour of handmade sets. Both can succeed if they understand what their audiences are looking for. After all, a stage may be capable of recreating an entire universe. But sometimes, all it takes to move an audience is a mother looking into her child's mouth, as Yashoda does in 'Krishna', and seeing the  universe instead.

For all the money spent creating a spectacle, the real business of musical theatre is still the business of moving people.