BB Desk
Every year, a handful of actors go beyond simply delivering performances and actually transform – not just into characters, but into braver, more disciplined versions of themselves. These are not conservative choices or autopilot turns but decisions that require restraint, vulnerability, and an acceptance that growth often comes with risk. This year, four actors stood apart because their work felt intentional, challenging, and earned. Not louder than the rest, but deeper. This is not about box office numbers or social media buzz. It is about the rare moments when you can sense an actor stretching, recalibrating, and raising their own standards.
Ranveer Singh in Dhurandhar
Ranveer Singh has always thrived on scale—energy, charisma, and flamboyance But Dhurandhar seems like a deliberate stripping away of all that. Here, the performance is introspective, disciplined, and quietly intense. The familiar swagger is replaced by control, the theatricality by precision. It appears that an actor is consciously trying to resist his own tendencies to serve the material rather than overpower it. There is rawness here, but it is measured, almost restrained, and that is exactly why it lands. Dhurandhar not only shows a fresh shade of Ranveer—but it also signifies a shift in his craft.
Rajkummar Rao in Maalik
Versatility has never been Rajkummar Rao’s problem, yet Maalik demanded something that goes beyond his usual strengths. This is not a performance built on small gestures or eccentric detailing alone. It operates on a much larger, emotional, and narrative canvas, requiring authority, volatility, and sustained intensity. Rao walks into that space without leaning on familiarity. He goes big when needed, and vulnerable when required. The emotional weight he carries here is heavier, rougher, and less forgiving—and he confronts it squarely. Maalik feels like an actor putting himself to test without a safety net.
Vicky Kaushal in Chhaava
Even though Vicky Kaushal is no stranger to transformation, Chhaava challenges him on multiple fronts at once. Yes, the physical preparation is evident, but the real work lies in the stillness—holding the weight of history, leadership, and inner conflict without overt dramatics. He doesn’t play the role as a spectacle; he inhabits it with a quiet authority that grows over time. There is patience in the performance, a sense of lived-in resolve, and an emotional gravity that never feels forced. Chhaava tests endurance more than flair, and Kaushal proves once again that disappearing into a role is his greatest strength.
Shahid Kapoor in Deva
Shahid Kapoor has been navigating darker, more complex emotional terrain in recent years, but Deva pushes him even further into moral ambiguity. This is not a character seeking sympathy or redemption—it is one that exists in discomfort and Shahid gets fully absorbed into that unease. The intensity here doesn’t feel performed; it feels internal, simmering just beneath the surface. His restraint, sharpness, and emotional volatility co-exist in a way that makes the character unsettling yet compelling. Deva reinforces why Shahid remains one of the most intriguing actors of his generation—willing to sit in the grey instead of reaching for approval.
What connects these performances is not magnitude, genre, or acclaim, but intent. Each actor arrives with something different than before—something riskier, more demanding, and less predictable. If this is the trajectory they are choosing—prioritizing craft over comfort—then the future of mainstream cinema looks brighter and more exciting to watch.
