Reel life, real struggle: India's film workers deserve better rights

Earlier this year, media reports emerged that Deepika Padukone had exited the film Spirit after the makers allegedly declined her request for an eight-hour workday. While industry speculation also pointed to fee-related differences, the work-hour demand became the focal point of debate. In a profession where 12–18 hour days are normalised, Padukone’s insistence on a humane schedule—especially as a mother—was both exceptional and revealing. Her stance was met with solidarity from across the industry. Actor Pankaj Tripathi defended the demand, stating that he had himself started declining overly long schedules. Filmmaker Mani Ratnam called it “a rightful demand”, echoing sentiments shared by Ajay Devgn, Kajol, and Saif Ali Khan. Rana Daggubati pointed out that in the Telugu film industry, an eight-hour workday is not uncommon, and some actors even limit themselves to four-hour schedules. These responses collectively underline that Deepika’s demand was not unreasonable—it was simply a plea for industry norms to recognise that film workers, too, are human beings entitled to limits on their labour. But it also exposed a brutal truth: that there are no industry-wide labour standards.

Gig work without protection

The conditions of work that Deepika Padukone challenged are not unique to star actors but reflect a deeper structural precarity in the Indian film and television industry. Most adult actors operate not as employees but as freelance or contractual workers—classic gig workers in legal terms. The Code on Social Security, 2020, defines gig workers as those who perform work outside traditional employment relationships. Conceptually, gig workers can exist in both the organised and unorganised sectors, can partake in low-skill or high-skill employment, and can be in any earning bracket. The definition of gig workers is so broad as to clearly encompass the vast spectrum of actors, theatre performers, background artists, and television serial actors whose engagements are project-based and non-permanent. Yet Chapter IX of the Code, regulating gig workers, remains unnotified and thereby does not currently extend any protections.

The only legislative effort to regulate film labour is the Cine Workers and Cinema Theatre Workers (Regulation of Employment) Act, 1981. However, its scope is so narrow as to be almost obsolete: it applies only to those employed in the production of feature films and only if their monthly wage is under Rs 1,600 or lump-sum earnings under Rs 15,000. This threshold, unchanged since the 1980s, effectively excludes all mainstream and even most small-budget actors. The Act also does not apply to those working in television, OTT platforms, independent theatre, or advertising, leaving the vast majority of performers with no legal framework to protect against exploitative working hours or unsafe conditions. The problem is compounded by structural inequalities. Male leads command higher pay and greater control over shoot schedules; by contrast, female actors, especially those juggling caregiving responsibilities or those at earlier stages of their careers, are often expected to acquiesce to long hours. Further, while stars might command more, supporting actors, newcomers, and performers in regional or lower-budget productions have virtually no say in how long they work, what protections they receive, or whether their rights will be honoured at all. It is this imbalance that renders individual negotiation ineffective for most workers.

With such a narrow legal net, the vast majority of India’s creative labour force —especially women, junior artistes, and working-class performers—remains outside any form of statutory protection. The Cine and TV Artistes’ Association (CINTAA) and the All India Cine Workers Association (AICWA) have repeatedly called for greater State regulation and statutory protection of working conditions in the industry. They have highlighted constant issues such as unregulated shoot hours, lack of standard contracts, delayed payments, and the absence of social security coverage for thousands of artists and workers across the country.

The law’s silence on the working conditions of performers has created an uneven playing field where rights are dependent on celebrity clout. But work-hour protections, parental leave, and health insurance should not be privileges reserved for those at the top—they are basic entitlements that must be available to all workers. The burden of asserting these rights disproportionately falls on women and marginalised performers, who are already more likely to have caregiving responsibilities, lower financial security, and fewer fallback options.

The current situation places the burden of asserting basic dignity on individual artists, rather than on an institutional or legal mechanism. This cannot continue. Legal reform is not only necessary for regulation—it is essential for benchmarking. A statutory framework for actors and screen workers should, at minimum, benchmark working hours, rest breaks, leave entitlements, and equal pay protections. Most importantly, such a framework must reflect the gendered realities of care, precarity, and exploitation in creative industries. Performers are workers. And workers deserve rest, respect, and rights.

(The writer is a research fellow, Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy) 

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.