What did the Internet say when comedian Samay Raina’s Still Alive dropped on YouTube earlier this year? A unanimous: ‘Craaazy ho gaya bhai’! A chorus of support rallied for the comic’s—and art’s—resilience. Perhaps, reassertion too? The set, released on 20 April, went on to record 54.2 million views in three earthly days, making it the most-watched full-length stand-up comedy special globally from a single upload. But the Internet's applause is as fleeting as its outrage. Just a year earlier, Raina found himself at the centre of a storm after a guest's controversial remark on India's Got Latent triggered police complaints, legal action, one arrest, and the show's eventual takedown. For artistes today, every performance is a tightrope walk—the same chorus that celebrates them can as swiftly tear them down.
So, was it really a surprise when the second season of the show returned in June with an 11-member legal team? Still Alive, the prelude to the show's return, didn't exactly end on a note of apology. Raina's subtle refusal to be blunted by overt scrutiny all but invited the echo of ‘...and kicking’. But the overcorrection of a legal team and the carefully measured punchlines in Episodes 1 and 2 have left us wondering: will comedy, an art form loved for its edge, lose its authenticity like this? And if legal caution pushes creators towards self-censorship, will brands lose the cultural relevance that made comedy such a powerful marketing tool?
Not quite, says media and entertainment lawyer Medha Banta. According to her, the industry's increasing reliance on legal review predates India's Got Latent and its popularity. Large production houses, OTT platforms, broadcasters and studios have long involved both in-house and external legal teams across contracts, intellectual property, music rights, defamation, regulatory compliance and risk assessment. The current conversation, she highlights, has simply made that process more visible.
That visibility, however, should not be mistaken for creative interference. Writers will continue to develop scripts before legal teams review them, flag potential issues and recommend changes. Banta, who works as Senior Associate at Khurana and Khurana, explains, "Legal review is becoming increasingly integrated into the production workflow, but it doesn't replace the creative process; it supports it." Even so, no amount of legal vetting can anticipate a controversy, she adds, noting that in this day and age of the Internet, audience reactions have become unpredictable. For instance, the backlash over Ranbir Kapoor's character wearing shoes while ringing a temple bell in Brahmāstra, or the outrage over Deepika Padukone's orange bikini in Pathaan, are 'fault lines' few could have reasonably foreseen. "The legal principles remain broadly the same. What has evolved is the intensity of review, driven by changing audience behaviour and the speed at which public sentiment develops online," Banta maintains.
For brands, that changing environment has shifted the focus from merely securing contractual approvals to evaluating context. While agreements continue to cover intellectual property, advertising law compliance, indemnities and brand safety clauses, brands are also assessing ‘how’ and ‘where’ they appear to minimise reputational risk. Rajat Jadhav, Co-founder and CEO of Bold Care, believes that the assessment need not come at the expense of creativity. For the D2C men's sexual wellness brand, which has often relied on humour and cultural relevance to break taboos, the focus has never been on courting controversy for its own sake.
Instead, Jadhav says the brand evaluates ideas based on their intent and impact; using humour to make conversations around sexual wellness more approachable while ensuring campaigns remain responsible and consumer-first. "I don't think legal caution dilutes creativity. If anything, it demands better creativity. The spontaneity that makes comedy a powerful marketing tool comes from fresh ideas, timing and perspective. A creator's authenticity is defined by their voice and what they stand for, not by how controversial they are,” he shares.
Yet, when what a creator stands for incidentally stokes tension, where does a brand draw the line? Jadhav's answer lies in intent. "If an idea relies purely on shock value, it's probably the wrong idea. If it helps make an important conversation more accessible through humour, culture or storytelling, that's where we see the opportunity." His view is reflected in Bold Care's own decisions. Months after the first-season furore, the brand partnered with Raina and filmmaker Anurag Kashyap for a condom campaign—one that even cheekily referenced a fragment of the ‘sentence’ that had landed Raina in legal trouble. For Bold Care, humour works best when it serves a purpose beyond provocation.
It is equally interesting to consider what gave brands the confidence to come on board for the show's second innings. For Akshali Shah, Executive Director, Parag Milk Foods, the company behind sports nutrition brand Avvatar, the decision was less about the show's recent history than its audience. "India's Got Latent has created a highly engaged community, making it a strong platform to connect with a new generation of consumers who value authenticity and performance," she says. Shah points out that consumers today appreciate content that feels natural, giving creator-led platforms a distinct advantage. For her, the balance between creative freedom and brand association lies in partnering with creators whose voice already aligns with the brand, rather than trying to shape it.
That doesn't necessarily mean the creative ecosystem will remain unchanged. Amit Dhawan, Co-founder of influencer marketing and UGC-at-scale agency Crack'd, believes the shift extends beyond legal review. "Risk moved from reputational to criminal, and that changed the entire evaluation," he observes. Where agencies once assessed follower quality and a creator's brand safety history, they are now asking whether unscripted formats can withstand the possibility of legal action. "The new red flag isn't what a creator says, it's whether their team has a documented review process before they say it."
Dhawan underlines the bigger cost is creative rather than legal. "Legal review doesn't kill jokes, it kills timing. And timing is comedy." While scripts can be vetted, live reactions—the very element that made formats like India's Got Latent compelling—cannot. The result, he argues, may not be outright censorship but a gradual drift towards safer, more scripted content, with ‘less accident, less edge.’ He sees the show's 11-member legal team through a similar dual lens. "Hiring eleven lawyers after what happened is just running a business properly. But making sure everyone sees you hired eleven lawyers is fear wearing an expensive suit. One is insurance, the other is optics, and this show is doing both at once."
While India's Got Latent may be the latest flashpoint, it is hardly the first time Indian comedy has collided with public outrage. The closest precedent remains AIB, whose AIB Knockout disappeared after multiple FIRs and sustained backlash. Since then, individual comedians have often found themselves in the crosshairs—Vir Das over his Two Indias monologue, Munawar Faruqui, who spent over a month in jail before securing interim bail in a case involving allegations of hurting religious sentiments, Kunal Kamra over political and religious remarks, and more recently, Madhur Virli and Pranit More over separate jokes on sexual violence.
Perhaps the real challenge is balancing responsibility with restraint. Creators cannot ignore the consequences of what they put out into the world, particularly at a time when jokes that trivialise issues such as sexual violence can find an audience willing to laugh before it pauses to reflect. The criticism of The Pranit More Show is a reminder that comedy, like every form of expression, carries accountability. But that should not become a pretext for an ever-present culture of legal or state surveillance. If every joke is written with one eye on the courtroom rather than the audience, comedy risks losing spontaneity—and brands risk dulling the very edge that made comedy impossible to ignore.
