The Ba***ds of Bollywood review: Aryan Khan goes all guns blazing

The way Shah Rukh Khan has been promoting his son's directorial debut, it had me worried how much of Aryan Khan we'd get to see in The Ba***ds of Bollywood. But to my pleasant surprise, even if the seven-episode tragicomedy is not consistently cohesive or coherent, Aryan's voice shines through, singular and spectacular.

There's the awkwardness, the clumsiness of a first-time director. But it's the kind of rough-around-the-edges that can cut deep. Wrapped in starry cameos and template filmmaking is the story of an industry drunk on its luster, a mirage that's sustained by deceit, desperation and often blood. Though it's more Om Shanti Om (2007) than Luck By Chance (2009), but at its most potent, The Ba***ds of Bollywood does leave a throbbing mark.

We meet Aasmaan Singh (Lakshya Lalwani), a freshly-minted star, as he navigates the nerve-racking, chaotic phase that is the time between the release of the first film and the start of the second. A hot-headed, straight-talking outsider from Delhi, his smash-hit debut backed by the legacy banner Sodawallah Productions places him at the heart of the sparkling quicksand that is Bollywood.

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Before much ado, he has a brush-in with Karishma (Sahher Bambba), the nepo-kid hot on the block, the daughter of the reigning superstar Ajay Talvar (Bobby Deol is rocking his post Animal era), who is yet to make her acting debut. A salty meet-cute at a round table lands them a film together with Dharma. Sparks fly much to Ajay's ire who pulls every punch he can to keep the two apart.

However, it's not this love story but Aasmaan’s bromance with his best friend Parvaiz (Raghav Juyal) that’s the foundational core of this show. Fresh off the blistering acclaim of their Hindi film debut Kill (2024), Lakshya and Raghav are terrific together. It’s their arc that grounds all the excess that The Ba***ds of Bollywood keeps throwing at you without pause.

As effortless and charming as Lakshya is, it is Raghav who gives a career-defining performance here. He takes the hero’s best friend trope and runs, no, flies with it. There’s not one dull moment when he’s in the frame. He is gloriously nimble and agile both with his craft and his body and his scenes with Emraan Hashmi in the third episode are pure gold (at the current market rate). I don’t remember the last time I laughed out this loud while watching a Hindi show. Also, as an Emraan super-fan, I can attest to the fact that this is the most inspired portrayal of his cult status in our contemporary cultural zeitgeist.

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But The Ba***ds of Bollywood is too dense, busy for its own good. There’s too much happening at all times. Aryan has too many tricks up his sleeve and he can't wait to show them all to you. The plot is crammed with multiple tracks crisscrossing, jostling for attention. There's one featuring Aasmaan's uncle Avtar (a fantastic Manoj Pahwa), a classical playback singer still waiting for his big break and another with a desperate washed-out wannabe actor Jaraj Saxena (Rajat Bedi).

There are also undercurrents of the underworld. Because how can a story truly belong to Bollywood otherwise, right? Enter Ghaffoor (Arshad Warsi), a Robin-hood-style gangster who wants to turn producer.

But not all gags land. For instance, Gaffoor is given a rousing entry only to be forgotten entirely and is brought back in the climax almost as an afterthought. The pen joke with Aasmaan's friend/manager Sanya (an earnest Anya Singh) is taken too far and stretched too thin much like the Jaraj Saxena bit, the overly coarse language and the obsession with di*ks. Once the hat-tips, the self-deprecating humour, and the easter eggs are done with, the shabbiness of it all begins to show through the cracks.

It’s almost as if Aryan, along with co-creators Bilal Siddiqui and Manav Chauhan, wants you to see how ugly it can get. However, even though intended, the scenes in which top producer Manish Sodawallah (a woefully hammy Manish Chaudhari) kicks his female production designer in the stomach or when another forgotten, old-timey producer gushes about what "Me Too" meant in their day, are deeply problematic.

Through The Ba***ds of Bollywood, Aryan is telling us what we knew all along -- You may love the movies but no matter however much you may want to, it is not easy to love the industry that makes them. There's just too much noise, bling, and uncertainty, too many eggshell egos, shattered dreams, and half-truths. Larger than life is not for everyone.

The wicked irony of a Bollywood insider using his silver spoon to bare a truth so daring and dark is too obvious to be lost despite all the camp and the too-muchness. It is almost like the son of a real-estate giant goes to study at Harvard with his money only to return and become a social activist whose work centers around unethical construction practices. The dichotomy is too delicious to not feast on.

All of The Ba***ds of Bollywood is like its title. It keeps you guessing until the end and when the big reveal finally unfolds, it makes you second guess everything all over again. That's its beauty and also its bane.