‘Nadaaniyan’: Bollywood’s Star Kid Obsession Is Showing Its Cracks
It’s time the industry stopped mistaking lineage for talent.
The debate around nepotism in Bollywood isn’t new—but it resurfaces sharply every time a film like Nadaaniyan premieres. Starring Khushi Kapoor and Ibrahim Ali Khan, children of cinema royalty, the film exemplifies the growing disconnect between privilege and genuine performance.
Directed by first-timer Shauna Gautam and backed by Karan Johar, Apoorva Mehta, and Somen Mishra under Dharma Productions’ digital wing Dharmatic Entertainment, Nadaaniyan is currently trending on Netflix Bangladesh. But popularity doesn’t always signal quality.
Khushi Kapoor plays Pia Jaisingh—a familiar rich-girl archetype already seen in 2024’s Call Me Bae, starring Ananya Panday. Nadaaniyan even mimics the voiceover setup and broken-rich-family narrative. But where Call Me Bae showed flashes of self-awareness, Nadaaniyan flounders in artificiality from its very first frame.
The world of Nadaaniyan is glossy, over-staged, and emotionally hollow—more like a video game simulation than a relatable coming-of-age story. The characters are exaggerated clichés, and their stilted, dubbed lines hover awkwardly over each scene like they're being read off cue cards. Ibrahim Ali Khan’s Arjun Mehta, a supposedly ambitious student, delivers his lines with robotic stiffness, making his lack of emotional engagement painfully obvious.
In typical Dharma fashion, Archana Puran Singh returns as the ever-eccentric Ms Braganza from Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (1998), trying to infuse some nostalgic charm. But here, love stories are less about chemistry and more about class privilege and inter-school competitions. What is Nadaaniyan really about? Frankly, not much.
The writing is the film’s weakest link. Conflicts feel forced, motivations are unclear, and emotional arcs are often absurd. For example, Pia confides in Arjun—whom she’s barely met—about her mother’s IVF journey just to convince him to fake a relationship. It's clunky, unearned, and cringeworthy. Elsewhere, a friend dumps her boyfriend with the line, “You were never worthy of my love.” What teenager actually talks like that?
Kapoor and Khan share minimal chemistry. Their supposed romantic connection often feels more awkward than endearing. A subplot where Arjun helps Pia prepare for a debate shows some potential for real emotional development—but even that fizzles out when the pivotal debate scene is drowned in dramatic music rather than giving Pia her moment.
The soundtrack doesn’t help either. Tracks like “Pag Ghunghroo Baandh Meera Naachi Re” feel generic and underwhelming, especially when compared to older hits like “Radha on the Dance Floor.” The choreography is stiff, and Khan’s dancing evokes neither Bollywood flair nor Disney-style charm—making Student of the Year (2012) look like a classic in retrospect.
Despite the presence of seasoned actors like Dia Mirza—who plays Arjun’s supportive mother—the film remains centered on its ill-prepared leads. Ibrahim Ali Khan’s strongest trait, at this stage, is his resemblance to his father, Saif Ali Khan. While the film tries to present Arjun as a high-achieving swimmer and debate champ, these traits remain surface-level. Beneath his sculpted physique, there’s little emotional or intellectual substance.
The screenplay by Ishita Moitra, Riva Razdan Kapoor, and Jehan Handa fails to capture the pulse of contemporary youth. Writing for a young adult audience is challenging, but Nadaaniyan doesn’t even get the basics right—conflict, tone, authenticity. Shows like Sex Education or Heartstopper succeed because they respect their audience's intelligence and emotional complexity. Nadaaniyan treats them like cardboard cutouts.
Even cameos from yesteryear stars like Suniel Shetty, Mahima Chaudhury, and Jugal Hansraj can't save the film. Rather than uplifting the newer generation, their brief appearances inadvertently highlight the gap between seasoned performers and debutantes parachuted into leading roles without the necessary grounding.
Beneath all this gloss and chaos, there is a hint of a sweeter film—one that might have explored love, ambition, and youth with nuance. A rom-com-musical hybrid about the dreams we chase in school corridors, the crushes we nurse, and the debates we lose not in competition but in love. But Nadaaniyan never comes close.
Instead, it stands as another glittering example of what happens when privilege tries to impersonate talent. It’s time Bollywood stopped handing over the spotlight to those who haven’t earned it.
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