What is the story about?
For over a decade, Ranbir Kapoor has carried the reputation of playing 'manchild' roles in Hindi cinema. From Wake Up Sid to Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani and
Tamasha, many of his films have revolved around aimless young men grappling with identity, responsibility, or love. Critics and audiences alike have often boxed him into this category, as though it defines not just his characters but also his persona. But does Ranbir Kapoor truly remain confined to this archetype, or has he, in fact, broken free of it in ways that deserve closer attention?
Why clubbing his roles under a single umbrella is shallow
The term 'manchild' in cinema typically refers to male characters who struggle to grow up - often irresponsible, emotionally confused, or reliant on others to give meaning to their lives. It’s true that Ranbir has portrayed such figures with remarkable finesse. Sid in Wake Up Sid was a privileged young man forced into adulthood by circumstance, while Bunny in Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani chased dreams with reckless abandon before realising the value of relationships. These roles resonated because they captured generational anxieties so vividly.
But reducing Ranbir Kapoor’s career to the manchild label is unfair. Look beyond these popular films, and you’ll find an actor who has deliberately experimented with complex and layered parts. In Rockstar, his Jordan was not an immature boy but a deeply tormented artist consumed by passion and heartbreak. In Sanju, he transformed into Sanjay Dutt with astonishing physicality and emotional depth, exploring themes of fame, addiction, and redemption. In Barfi!, he portrayed a hearing- and speech-impaired man with tenderness, crafting a character defined not by immaturity but by resilience and joy.
Moreover, his more recent roles further defy the stereotype. In Animal, Ranbir explored aggression, trauma, and familial dysfunction, embodying a volatile son whose arc was about control and destruction rather than delayed adulthood. In Brahmastra, while some critics argued the wide-eyed innocence of Shiva echoed earlier “boyish” characters, there was also an undeniable sense of gravitas in how he balanced love, destiny, and responsibility within a high-stakes fantasy narrative.
Ranbir Kapoor has grown up, so has his characters
What sets Ranbir apart is his ability to humanise flawed men without turning them into cliches. The vulnerability he brings to screen often gets mistaken for immaturity. When his characters cry, falter, or confess uncertainty, audiences see fragments of the manchild archetype. Yet those very qualities also make them relatable and layered, refusing to conform to the traditionally macho, unshakeable male leads Bollywood was once dominated by.
Off-screen, too, Ranbir doesn’t fit the stereotype. He has embraced fatherhood with Raha, taken risks with unconventional scripts, and maintained an understated personal life far removed from the recklessness associated with manchild behaviour. His choices suggest maturity, stability, and a quiet confidence that contrasts his on-screen image. All set the play Prabhu Shree Ram, the ultimate Maryada Purushottam, Ranbir is no longer just portraying urban, out-of-touch roles.
So why does the “manchild” label persist? Perhaps because Ranbir Kapoor’s performances tap into youthful vulnerability better than most of his peers. But when viewed in totality, his career reflects an actor unafraid to stretch beyond archetypes - whether playing a disabled man, a conflicted artist, a biopic subject, or a ruthless anti-hero.
Ranbir may have started with stories of growing up, but he has long since grown out of them. It’s time the label did too.
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