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Nepal, October 7 — Despite common beliefs, I can confirm that film critics are generally part of the more lenient group of viewers. It’s only when a movie isn’t functioning well that the mind starts to drift, and trivial details become more annoying.

In Shashank Khaitan’s film “Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari,” a character introduces someone whose family business is worth $1 billion. “How much is that in rupees?” a friend inquires, and the response is, “Rs7,000 crore.” If Khaitan’s movie had been even slightly genuine and endearing, rather than the self-satisfied, pretentious Hindi film I’ve grown to dislike in recent years, I would have ignored the mathematical mistake.

A billion dollars in 2025, which I’m assuming is the year the movie takes place, equals Rs8,800 crore. At minimum. For a film that keeps up with its flood of pop-culture references (such as someone comparing a potential groom to Kohli and Dravid, or a proposal themed around Baahubali), this calculation error is significant.

In an industry that prides itself on being ‘apolitical’, especially in a populist film from a production house that has generally been compliant, why would the creators take the risk of subtly referencing the declining rupee? If Khaitan is still converting one dollar to Rs70, then I assume the script was written over six years ago. Alternatively, they might have remained stuck in pre-pandemic times.

It’s one of the least significant aspects of the movie, and I believe most viewers wouldn’t even notice it. I feel foolish for focusing on it, but as I’ve already mentioned, when the film isn’t functioning properly, no detail is too minor.

Studios and streaming services have been emphasizing that movies and TV shows are ‘second screen’ experiences, implying that creators should expect viewers to be looking at another device (their phones or tablets) while watching. ‘Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari’ is a perfect example for executives, as it serves as a vibrant distraction for an audience that has minimal interest in the artistic value of the content.

The screening I attended was filled with exhausted parents who smiled while listening to jokes about being so middle-class that they complain about spending too much at a seven-star hotel, as their pre-teen children ran up and down the aisle. Dharma Productions, which has released ‘Dhadak 2’ and ‘Homebound’-two of the most relevant films from Hindi cinema in the past year-returns to the comfort of showcasing two undeserving nepo kids, giving underdeveloped roles to ‘outsiders,’ and using its self-awareness as an excuse for not attempting to create a remotely original romantic comedy.

Khaitan’s movie includes many of the typical elements of a light-hearted ‘family entertainment’-a destination wedding, sangeet events, over-the-top stars mistaking loud performances for comedy-which Dharma is recognized for producing.

Sunny (Varun Dhawan) is smitten with Ananya (Sanya Malhotra) and hopes to wed her. However, in the movie’s opening scene, he discovers they are in a ‘situationship.’ Ananya has met someone in Italy, Vikram Singh (Rohit Saraf), who is even wealthier than the already affluent Ananya, and both families are attempting to bring this union about due to their financial standing.

Upon receiving the wedding invitation from Ananya and Vikram, his most reasonable reaction is to seek out Vikram’s ex-girlfriend, Tulsi Kumari (Janhvi Kapoor), who, similar to Sunny, was pushed aside by the two manipulative families. Sunny’s idea of pretending to make Vikram and Ananya jealous by being seen with Tulsi works as a plausible concept for a witty, unpredictable romantic comedy.

Authored by Khaitan and Ishita Moitra (the creative force behind Karan Johar’s ‘Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani’), the movie is so focused on its own witty remarks that it fails to highlight even the basic characteristics of its four main characters. As Sunny, Dhawan is so deeply entrenched in the role of the lovesick raja beta (spoiled only son) in his late 20s that I have found it difficult to distinguish any of his performances from the past six years.

Tulsi, portrayed by Janhvi Kapoor, starts off as a weak, insecure girlfriend, but the movie eventually turns her into a glamorous star during numerous musical scenes. Kapoor, who has struggled to prove herself in several films over the past couple of years, comes across like that sincere student at a school event who does just enough and misinterprets the supportive clapping as complete admiration.

Malhotra, a charming and agile actor who has appeared in some forgettable movies, remains forgettable in this one. I believed she delivered the only emotionally impactful scene during the film’s climax, but it came too late in a movie that failed to give her a clear, substantial role as a main character. Why is Ananya—a mature and determined career woman—so easily convinced to abandon Sunny? What does she see in Sunny, other than his unwavering loyalty? Why is she jealous of a transformed Tulsi? What draws her to Vikram, a man whose personality makes vanilla seem like an intricate flavor? Saraf is a talented dancer (as seen in the Panwadi hook-step, where he appears most at ease among the group), but he portrays the character too seriously for someone who seems much more vibrant and larger-than-life on paper.

A vital element in a romantic comedy is having characters worth supporting. Unfortunately, I couldn’t become invested in the lives of Sunny, Tulsi, Vikram, and Ananya, who seem to possess the dating knowledge of a week-old apple. They lack self-awareness and are unclear about what they want from their partners. To cover up this significant lack of depth in the main four characters, Khaitan includes a Karan Johar cameo—where he portrays an unfiltered version of himself (similar to his role in ‘The Ba***ds of Bollywood’) as a celebrity guest at the wedding. If only brownie points could secure an authentic premise.

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