Beyond the “Red Flag”: Vijay Varma on Breaking Typecasts and the Weight of Masculinity
In the modern cinematic landscape, few actors have mastered the art of the unsettling gaze quite like Vijay Varma. From the chilling, spine-tingling menace of Hamza in Darlings to the menacing, predatory undertones in Dahaad and the harrowing dynamics of Pink, Varma has built a career on playing men who occupy the darker, more uncomfortable corners of human morality. But there is a price to pay for such visceral authenticity: the slow, inevitable creep of the public consciousness cementing your identity to your worst characters.
Recently, during an event hosted by popular content creator Dolly Singh, the actor found himself being introduced under the now-ubiquitous moniker: the “biggest red flag on screen.” While the comment was likely intended as a playful nod to his filmography, the resonance on social media—and Varma’s own visible reaction—suggests something far more profound. We are witnessing a performer who has become a victim of his own excellence.
The Tired Dichotomy of “Red Flags” and “Green Flags”
The internet loves a label. In the last few years, the “red flag” and “green flag” terminology has migrated from niche relationship advice to the primary lens through which we analyze everything from politics to pop culture. For Varma, however, this shorthand has become an artistic straightjacket.
“I just want a different colour, man. I’m sick of this red flag green flag,” Varma admitted during a candid interview with HT City. There is a palpable weariness in his voice when he discusses the phenomenon. When an actor spends years effectively deconstructing toxic masculinity, the audience often struggles to separate the man from the monster. By constantly slapping the “red flag” label on him, we aren’t just critiquing his characters—we are stripping away the nuance of his craft, reducing his range to a singular, ominous tone. It is a reductive cycle that threatens to pigeonhole one of the industry’s most versatile talents.
Why Lust Stories 3 Provided a Necessary Exit Strategy
For an actor who has specialized in playing high-stakes, hyper-perceptive, and often dangerous men, his latest project, Lust Stories 3, served as a refreshing palate cleanser. If his previous roles were defined by men who see everything—and use that insight to manipulate and control—his role in this anthology offers the polar opposite: a man who is blissfully, almost comically, unaware.
“I like the guy because he just doesn’t get any hint,” Varma says with a sense of relief. “I’ve played so many characters who get too many hints, so to play this guy who gets no hint was refreshing.” This isn’t just a change in character; it is a tactical retreat from the “brooding predator” archetype. By leaning into a role characterized by social ineptitude rather than calculated malice, Varma is signaling to casting directors and audiences alike that he has more than one gear. He is searching for a “different colour” in his palette, moving away from the intensity that defined his breakthrough years toward the lighter, more fragile, and ultimately more human vulnerabilities of everyday life.
The Mandate for Men in the Conversation of Safety
While Varma is eager to shed the “red flag” label in his professional life, he is deeply serious when the conversation shifts to real-world dynamics. In the wake of rising concerns over women’s safety and the ongoing national discourse surrounding gender-based violence, Varma’s perspective is strikingly grounded.
Instead of offering the typical, performative platitudes often seen in celebrity PR statements, Varma suggests that the most profound thing men can do is relinquish their center-stage position. “Men just need to get out of the way,” he asserts. It’s a radical statement in an industry—and a culture—that constantly asks men to lead, to explain, and to fix. Varma posits that the “fix” isn’t a speech; it is a silence. It is an act of listening.
He argues that the problem lies in the inherent assumption that men have a “say” in women’s safety or autonomy. By deciding that they are the arbiters of how women should live, dress, or express themselves, men inadvertently perpetuate the very cycles of control that lead to the “red flag” behavior we see on screen. His prescription? “They should let women express what they want without judging them, mocking them, or making them feel inferior. I feel like the best service you can do as a man is to let women express themselves and learn from them.”
The Path Forward: Redefining the Leading Man
As Lust Stories 3 continues to garner attention for its exploration of desire and contemporary intimacy, it highlights a crucial juncture in Vijay Varma’s career. He has proven he can play the villain—the man whose very presence makes the screen feel claustrophobic. But there is a burgeoning desire to see him inhabit roles that offer redemption, vulnerability, and, perhaps most importantly, normalcy.
The “red flag” tag is a testament to his brilliance; he made us believe in the darkness so thoroughly that we forgot he was an actor. Now, the challenge is to guide the audience back to the light. Whether through the lens of comedy, romance, or drama, Varma is clearly ready to move past the binary of “good guy/bad guy.” In an industry that thrives on typecasting, he is daring to be something far more dangerous to the status quo: an actor who refuses to be categorized. As the credits roll on his latest project, one thing is certain—Vijay Varma isn’t waiting for permission to change his color. He’s already started painting a new portrait, and it’s one that is far more complex than a simple flag could ever represent.
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