I think Netflix India finally has that TV series that is agreeably funny, enjoyable, and trashy. The whole Netflix machine - infamous for catering to the needs of an ADHD audience - has finally produced something that can be enjoyed by almost everybody as long as they are in the right mood, at the right frequency. The Royals, created by Rangita Pritish Nandy and Ishita Pritish Nandy, and directed by Nupur Asthana and Priyanka Ghose, will immediately tell you if you are the right person for this soapy romance comedy. In the first episode's opening scene, Sophia (Bhumi Pednekar), the CEO of WorkPotato, is seen running faster than a horse on which Aviraaj (Ishaan Khatter), the soon-to-be Maharaja of Motibagh Palace, is sitting. Your reaction to this scene will determine whether you should sit through all eight episodes or quit instantly. If you find yourself questioning the "logic" of something like this, stop watching the series (it's not going to become The Crown or The Bear after this point). But if you can laugh at the ludicrous nature of this scene, continue watching The Royals; you are the audience a show like this needs. The Royals (written by Neha Veena Sharma, Vishnu Sinha, and Iti Agarwal) might remind some viewers of Nadaaniyan - Shauna Gautam's widely panned romantic comedy, which had the potential to be an entertaining "so bad it's good" film. Gautam, sadly, was stuck with actors who couldn't give trash an amusing energy. Khushi Kapoor and Ibrahim Ali Khan seemed aloof and anemic. Thankfully, the makers of The Royals work with a fine cast who know what kind of performance they need to give. But what's surprising is that the actors are not merely in sync with the material; some also elevate it to delicious, dramatic heights through performances that can be almost revelatory.
I was very, very pleased with Sakshi Tanwar's comic side. As Aviraaj's mother, Padmaja, she mourns when she has to say goodbye to her paintings and is confounded by the term "situationship." Tanwar is so good, so funny during these scenes that it's a pity when she's required to be sad, serious, or dignified. There should have been consistency to her comic streak. Vihaan Samat, as Aviraaj's brother Diggy, behaves like a cute puppy. Instead of taking him seriously, you get the urge to pinch his cheek and feed him biscuits. He's the secret chef of the haveli who watches Gastronautics - a MasterChef kind of show - to hone his cooking skills. This reality TV show within the show is as laughably dramatic as the real-life cooking show you see on TV. A judge breaks a plate and says that the dish was disgusting. After a few seconds, he says, "Disgustingly good," and everybody smiles. How can you not laugh at such accuracy? One thing, however, didn't sit well with me. If Diggy is such an avid watcher of Gastronautics, why doesn't he, as a new contestant, fetch the ingredients on time? He should be aware of the time limit, right? But this Gastronautics thread, at least in this season, seems disposable and uninteresting. This is how you also feel about Jinnie's (Kavya Trehan) romance with Nikki (Lisa Mishra). It's just there in the story (Trehan and Mishra, however, are fine). Sure, Diggy and Jinnie get to follow their heart, their desire, their dream, but the events themselves come across as half-heartedly executed and uninspiring. One also feels a little sad for Sumukhi Suresh, who gets all the bad lines in the series. But I hope she was paid well, and I also hope she gives us a third season of Pushpavalli.
I found Pednekar to be...tricky. She gives all the correct expressions and does everything accordingly, yet something feels amiss. She explodes on the outside but looks hollow from within. Pednekar comes across as a hardworking actor who overprepares every note, every emotion, every line before coming to the set, before taking her position in front of the camera, before the director yells, "Action!" Her seductive gaze, her heartbroken face, and her confident carriage reek of affectedness. Pednekar doesn't become Sophia - the CEO of a company. She acts like Sophia, who's supposed to be the CEO of a company. The actor comes prepared in advance, so we don't see her connecting with her co-actors on the screen. This is why the sex scenes fail to generate much heat. They look like a simulation of an erotic encounter. There are no real sexy feelings. But let's talk about Khatter, who finally looks like his half-brother Shahid Kapoor. He exudes the same charm, the same style. One often feels as if they are watching Kapoor and not Khatter on the screen. Khatter's acting looks eerily similar to Kapoor's, and it feels as if the former took copious notes from the latter before shooting for this series. Whatever this 29-year-old actor has done, he should keep on doing. He is terrific and sometimes takes your breath away through subtle changes in his expressions during dramatic scenes. The Royals might not be A for Art, but A for Acting here can be truly rewarding.
There is a scene in the series in which Sophia is appalled after learning that the royal families are not interested in mingling with the commoners, so you can't expect a dance between the two parties. I was shocked that Sophia was shocked by this notion. Anyway, regressive behavior and thinking are almost everywhere in The Royals. There is a boss who might just be sexist, a daughter who's afraid of embracing her sexuality due to a traditionally-minded upbringing, and a Rani-sa who isn't comfortable with the idea of seeing her son romancing a commoner in front of her eyes. However, the young generation of Motibagh Palace is more progressive and more open-minded. The old walls are crumbling in more ways than one. In one of the scenes, Aviraaj and his friends come racing toward the palace in expensive sports cars, high on luxury, only to be greeted by the sight of decayed walls under construction. All these royals have left is their title (Maharaja, Maharani, Prince, etc.), which also carries a hollow ring. The series makes this point with sufficient humor, but you also notice the faded glory of the real-life royals when you visit their palaces in a city like Jaipur. My tour guide praised the kings and the queens gloriously, but I could see through the facade of joy. It became clear to me that what these royals possess now is merely nostalgia, which is sold to tourists at a high price. The Royals, then, offers you a new reason to visit the real palaces. It reveals that all those princes and princesses, kings and queens experience pain, love, and heartbreak just like commoners - like normal human beings. Perhaps next time, tourists in Jaipur will not only admire the ancient structures but also recognize the emotional vulnerability of the royal families. They may say to themselves, "Hey, they are just like us mortal beings."
Of course, the definition of a "commoner" in The Royals is primarily limited to CEOs and CFOs of a company. Hey, maybe the C in CEO stands for a commoner. The actual commoners, on the other hand, only appear as spectators at one point. Yes, this is a Dharma kind of production where the so-called poor people-the unemployed individuals-live in aesthetically pleasing apartments with their friends, and that too in a city like Mumbai. The R in Royals does not stand for Reality. Even the Reality TV show, Gastronautics, is more fake than the scripted shows you watch on TV. But the series, at least, gets its basics right. It doesn't really dig into Zubin's (Addinath Kothare) sexism (by the end, we are not even sure if he's actually sexist), yet it manages to make you hate him wholeheartedly, which is why you root for Sophia to win. Aviraaj and Sophia's hot and cold relationship is sufficiently convincing because both characters are equally egotistic and traumatized (their pain gives rise to flashbacks related to personal tragedy). There are some good jokes sprinkled here and there, like when a woman asserts that she won't leave the property, and when the locks are broken and the rooms are opened, we find...well, this joke I won't spoil. The Royals also find room for absurdity, such as when horses laugh while seeing three characters fight (this horse bit is better than the entirety of Azaad). There is room for conflicts in this series, but these conflicts don't bite. You watch The Royals with a smile on your face and with the knowledge that it's delightfully tacky. You are relieved of the burden of taking anything seriously. This is pure manure, but the manure can be aromatic.
Final Score- [6/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times