‘The Ba***ds Of Bollywood’ is Farah Khan for dummies

The new Netflix series The Ba***ds Of Bollywood borrows a lot from Farah Khan’s playbook, but lacks her storytelling finesse. Watching these 7 uneven episodes is like sitting through a school play: it’s not ideal by any standard, but you indulgently give it your time because you want to be there for your kid, hoot at the right moment, click a photograph to prove you were there. With this series directed and co-created by Shah Rukh Khan’s son Aryan Khan, many of us may initially be tuning into this show in parental proxy. In support of the ultimate outsider.

The Ba***ds Of Bollywood is an insider story about the film industry, about a rough-around-the-edges debutant actor from Delhi finding his footing in a cruel and shallow industry. If that sounds reminiscent of Shah Rukh, wait till the actor within the show raises a trophy to the skies the way SRK had done with his very first Filmfare award in 1992. “This one’s for you, Ma," Khan had said about the mother he had lost, the one who could not see him start to rule the world.

That is many episodes later. Meanwhile, that prescribed indulgence comes in handy during the lousy opening episode. The gags are feeble, the language is humourlessly crass, the characters not worth rooting for. (Would I have given up if I weren’t reviewing it? Yes, midway through episode one.) For me, the show kicked in only by episode 3 — either that, or my mind had given up and succumbed to the brainrot grammar of this slapdash satire. The Ba***ds Of Bollywood is like the ‘BollyBlindsNGossip’ subreddit come to life, all rumours and snark and pointing at celebrities. As the show rolls on, it is clear that the metatext becomes more important than the text itself, that meme potential takes precedence over screenwriting and story. The blindness means more than the item.

Created by Khan with Bilal Siddiqi and Manav Chauhan, the show winks so much it can barely see straight. Some of these winks — like a cameo featuring an actor known for on-screen kissing — are genuinely funny, but there aren’t as many memorable or insightful moments. It’s like watching an episode of Koffee With Karan. You don’t remember (or mind) the interminable chatter throughout the overlong episode as long as the rapid-fire round gives you enough. Khan and his gang may not be making a show as smart as it could have been, but they know how to light up a rapid-fire.

If you are an incorrigible film fan, you’ll find something to enjoy. Karan Johar is in entertaining form as the head of the movie mafia. There are references to actor roundtables, to newschannel owners so wealthy they don’t know they own the channels, and many, many references to Shah Rukh Khan’s films and to his life. From the Delhi paanwala celebrated on Jeena Isi Ka Naam Hai to the Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Ghum funeral pyre, this one really is for Aryan’s dad. King Khan — inevitably — gets my top line of the series. “Oh, what a cliché," he laughs, the real outsider acknowledging the fictional outsider. “What a nice cliché, no?"

That, to me, is the mission statement. The Ba****ds Of Bollywood wants to be a nice cliché.

Everything is familiar. The bonding between the boys is straight out of Luv Ranjan’s Punchnama movies, the industry machinations have a Madhur Bhandarkar hangover, and the use of cameos is reminiscent of Zoya Akhtar’s Luck By Chance. The show overemphasises constantly, leaning on too many reaction shots, and flashbacks even to things we have seen moments before, like jewelry the hero gifts to the heroine. This spoonfeeding — or silver-spoonfeeding — betrays the creators’ lack of faith toward their Gen-Z audience. This may not be ‘Farah Khan by dummies’ but it certainly feels like ‘Farah Khan for dummies.’

As a director, Aryan is visibly skilled with fight scenes, this ridiculous farce switching to full-tilt action every time someone throws a kick or lands a punch. Perhaps those are simply the bits the debutant director enjoys the most. Either way, the way the show gets better as it goes along almost implies it was filmed chronologically. I’d therefore love to see what this young man makes after this.

Lakshya, who broke out with the action film Kill (JioHotstar), is too bland as the series lead Aasmaan. Raghav Juyal is more colourful as his spunky buddy Parvaiz, though the best (non-celebrity) performance comes from Sahher Bambba as the nepo-kid Karishma Talwar. Every character is one-note, but Bambba’s ease and softness allows the romantic bits to work. Manoj Pahwa as a disgruntled musician and Mona Singh as Aasmaan’s mother, a former background dancer, are predictably super. I was most surprised by a smashing Bobby Deol, playing the superstar who doesn’t want his daughter to debut with an outsider.

What is behind the asterisks in the title? The word ‘star.’

That may be the dirtiest word in film. Om Shanti Om told us that no matter how good you are and how much you want it, the best way to be a star in India is to be born — or reborn — into a film family. What Aryan Khan seems to be saying with The Bas***ds Of Bollywood is that the film industry might well be an incestuous petridish of foulmouthed incompetence, but that outsiders can indeed become insiders overnight. For all its savagery and potshots, that is unadulterated filmi optimism. So what if the celebrities always snipe at each other? That’s just… Star Wars.

Streaming Tip Of The Week:

Zoya Akhtar’s Luck By Chance (Amazon Prime Video) gave us a true ringside view of the film industry, directed by one of its own. From its gorgeous opening credits celebrating extras and background actors, to the finest Hrithik Roshan performance of all, this self-aware film remains essential viewing.

Raja Sen is a screenwriter and critic. He has co-written Chup, a film about killing critics, and is now creating an absurd comedy series. He posts @rajasen.