Chand Mera Dil review: Lakshya-Ananya's film is earnest, emotionally wounded, and trying too hard

Chand Mera Dil is a film constantly caught between sincerity and spectacle. Beneath its glossy visuals, dramatic staging and emotionally charged soundtrack lies a story about trauma, vulnerability and the painful ways people attach themselves to one another.

Chand Mera Dil REVIEW

There is a moment in Chand Mera Dil where a character compares the relationship of our leading couple to the warranty period of an LED bulb. It is intended to land with emotional weight, but I found myself chuckling to myself in the theatre — partly because of how oddly specific the metaphor is, and partly because it perfectly sums up the fragile, short-circuited dynamic between Chandni (Ananya Panday) and Aarav (Lakshya).

That, in many ways, is the film itself: earnest, emotionally wounded, occasionally perceptive, but constantly trying too hard to convince you of its intensity.

I understood very early on that the story revolves around Chandni, played by Ananya Panday, attempting to navigate the lingering trauma of her childhood. The film deserves credit for not trivialising that pain.

Themes of PTSD, domestic violence, emotional baggage and self-respect are handled with a surprising degree of restraint. The writing rarely slips into preachiness or the kind of melodramatic excess modern romantic dramas often rely on. There is sincerity in the way the film approaches emotional damage, particularly through Chandni’s internal conflict.

Yet the emotional arc becomes deeply frustrating once Aarav enters her life.

The moment Chandni lays eyes on Lakshya’s Aarav, she emotionally collapses in ways that are difficult to watch. Perhaps that is exactly what the filmmakers intended — to portray how unresolved trauma can make someone vulnerable to emotionally volatile relationships. If so, the film certainly commits to that discomfort.

Aarav’s constant oscillation between rage, self-pity and emotional dependence creates a relationship dynamic that feels exhausting rather than romantic. Watching Chandni repeatedly shrink herself around his anger becomes increasingly painful as the film progresses.

Ironically, for a film titled Chand Mera Dil — and centred on a protagonist named Chandni — there is remarkably little visual softness to it. The cinematography constantly strains for significance. Nearly every frame appears engineered like a glossy advertisement, drowning itself in excessive sunlight, aggressive lens flares and overlit compositions.

There is so much harsh daylight pouring into scenes that the film begins to feel visually disconnected from its own title and emotional mood. Moonlight would have suited this story far better than the relentless glare of the sun. Get it? Chand?

The camerawork also becomes distractingly self-aware. Sweeping pans, stylised silhouettes, restless tracking shots and hyper-edited close-ups of lips, shoes and random objects repeatedly pull attention away from the characters themselves. Even moments meant to breathe emotionally are underscored by music that insists on announcing their importance. At times, I felt the film was less interested in telling a story than in making sure I noticed how intensely it was trying to tell one.

That said, the music is undeniably one of the film’s strongest assets. Instead of functioning as mere background support, it becomes deeply integrated into the emotional rhythm of the narrative. Several sequences are elevated almost entirely by the soundtrack, which often feels like another performer sharing screen space with the cast.

Performance-wise, the film is anchored by two committed leads. Lakshya delivers a fierce performance, making Aarav’s anger and emotional instability believable even when the character becomes difficult to sympathise with. Ananya Panday, meanwhile, gives one of her more controlled performances to date. She captures Chandni’s vulnerability and emotional confusion with sincerity, never allowing the character to become one-note.

Despite limited screen time, Paresh Pahuja leaves a distinct impression as Kevin. His sudden arrival in Chandni’s life, however, exposes one of the screenplay’s biggest structural problems.

The pacing frequently undermines the film’s emotional coherence. Kevin’s introduction and the rapid progression of his relationship with Chandni feel underdeveloped, as though entire narrative beats are missing between scenes. The rushed transitions make it harder to invest fully in the film’s later emotional decisions.

Still, even with its uneven storytelling and aggressively stylised presentation, Chand Mera Dil remains interesting because of what it attempts emotionally. Beneath all the visual noise, there is a film genuinely trying to explore trauma, love and self-worth with sensitivity. I just wish it trusted those emotions enough to stop decorating them so heavily.