Did OTT run out of stories or just courage? Why everything on streaming suddenly looks identical

I love Bollywood. I love dark cinema halls, overpriced popcorn and the collective gasp when a good scene lands just right. But during Covid, when theatres went silent and release dates became moving targets, OTT felt like a gift. Confined to my living room, I discovered worlds I hadn’t known Indian storytelling was capable of. Suddenly, content wasn’t shouting; it was whispering, questioning, experimenting. I jumped from crime to quiet romance, from small-town dramas to psychological thrillers, all without leaving my sofa. For the first time in years, it felt like Indian audiences were being trusted with intelligent, layered stories.

Today, that excitement has been replaced by exhaustion. I scroll endlessly across Netflix, Amazon Prime Video and Disney+ Hotstar, hoping something—anything—will surprise me. Instead, everything looks eerily familiar. Different posters, same promise. Different titles, same formula.

The Golden Phase: When OTT Made Us Demand Better

OTT didn’t just offer convenience; it changed audience behaviour. Viewers who had tolerated lazy scripts and cardboard characters in mainstream cinema suddenly demanded logic, coherence and emotional honesty. Writers were finally allowed to breathe. They explored genres Bollywood had long ignored—slow-burn mysteries, flawed female-led narratives, morally grey protagonists and deeply local stories that didn’t feel the need to apologise for their accent or setting.

New actors flourished in this space. Talent, not lineage or stardom, became the currency. Performances felt lived-in, not performed. Women were not just romantic interests; they were complex, contradictory, powerful and vulnerable all at once. OTT, at its peak, didn’t just entertain—it expanded the definition of what Indian content could be.

The Familiar Trap: Sex, Shock and Same Old Stories

Somewhere along the way, that courage faded. Today, much of OTT content feels like it is ticking boxes rather than telling stories. Bold sex scenes appear not because the narrative demands them, but because boldness is mistaken for depth. Abusive language is thrown in to sound “raw”. Crime is glamorised, relationships are reduced to predictable arcs of lust, love, betrayal and break-up, all sprinkled with conveniently marketable Gen Z angst.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these elements. The problem is repetition. When every show leans on the same crutches, shock value stops shocking. What once felt daring now feels desperate.

From Discovery Platform to Star Vehicle

One of the most disappointing shifts has been the increasing dominance of already established superstars. OTT was meant to be a parallel universe—a space where fresh faces could shine without the baggage of box-office expectations. Instead, it is slowly becoming an extension of mainstream cinema, complete with big names, bigger fees and safer storytelling.

Risk-taking has reduced because stakes have risen. When massive sums are paid to acquire star-led projects, experimentation becomes a liability. Scripts are softened, edges are rounded off, and originality quietly exits through the back door.

Women on Screen: From Layered to Labelled

Perhaps the saddest transformation is how women are being written again. There was a time when OTT gave us female characters with agency, ambition and contradictions. They drove the plot rather than decorating it. Today, too many shows use women as visual punctuation—there to add glamour, titillation or trauma, but rarely perspective.

Objectification has returned, this time wrapped in the excuse of “bold storytelling”. It feels like a regression, not evolution.

The exhaustion isn’t just mine. It’s everywhere.

“I open an app, watch ten minutes, and switch it off. Everything feels like a remix of something I’ve already seen,” says Radhika, a 29-year-old marketing professional.

“OTT used to be about stories. Now it’s about how many controversial scenes can trend on social media,” adds Kunal, a film student.

“I miss shows that trusted silence and subtext. Now everything is loud—even emotions,” says Ananya, a long-time binge-watcher.

These aren’t niche complaints. They reflect a wider weariness with content that confuses excess with engagement.

The Business Side: Buying Rights, Selling Souls

Behind this creative fatigue lies a hard business truth. OTT platforms are locked in a relentless race—for subscribers, for headlines, for buzz. Acquiring movie and series rights has become a high-stakes game, where familiar names feel like safer investments than unfamiliar brilliance. Algorithms reward what already works, not what might work.

In the process, content is being shaped less by vision and more by data. Art is being optimised.

Why This Loss Feels Personal

OTT once reminded me why I fell in love with cinema in the first place. It respected my intelligence as a viewer. Watching its slow dilution feels personal because it feels like a broken promise. A promise that Indian storytelling could move forward without dragging old clichés along.

I still believe the charm isn’t gone forever—just buried under convenience and caution. Audiences have changed once; they can change again. But for that to happen, OTT must remember why it mattered in the first place: not because it was bold, but because it was honest.

Right now, honesty is the one thing missing from the stream.