Aryan Khan doesn’t make a polite entry into the industry that both birthed and bruised him – he storms in, unapologetically middle finger raised, with ‘The Ba**ds of Bollywood’, a raucous, rebellious, and ridiculously entertaining debut. It’s a masala-soaked fever dream – equal parts satire, spectacle, and scorched-earth takedown.
This isn’t safe. This isn’t subtle. And it’s exactly what Bollywood didn’t know it needed.
Opening with a bang – quite literally!
The show launches with a surreal set-piece that feels ripped straight from a Bollywood hallucination. A slick VFX-heavy transition sweeps you from an explosive action stunt straight into a film set – all in a single, fluid, stylish shot. And somehow, it lands harder than anything YRF has delivered in years.
Lakshya, as the flamboyant Aasman Singh, makes an entrance soaked in swagger, arrogance, and pure star power. The laws of physics may crumble in these action scenes, but Aasman’s charisma holds it all together. His pomposity isn’t a flaw – it’s the point. Aryan takes that overconfidence and uses it to dissect ambition, ego, and the intoxicating madness of stardom.
Bollywood gets skewered – with surgical precision
Aryan Khan doesn’t just poke fun at Bollywood – he vivisects it. The show plays like a cracked mirror held up to the industry’s shallow glamour and deep-rooted dysfunction. It’s not sprinkled with references; it’s drenched in them.
From sleazy backroom deals to ego battles and collapsing film contracts, Aryan paints a brutally honest portrait of the industry’s underbelly. The writing is bitingly self-aware, yet affectionate – a love-hate letter from someone who’s been both insider and outcast.
Lines like “My movie saved your fucking career” and “My performance saved your fucking movie” don’t feel scripted. They feel like overheard barbs in a producer’s afterparty bathroom. It’s brutal, hilarious, and weirdly therapeutic.
Cameos that count!
Where most Bollywood shows shoehorn cameos like garish baubles on a cheap cake, Aryan folds them into the batter. These appearances aren’t decorative – they’re narrative.
Ranveer Singh is as electrifying as you’d hope. Rajkummar Rao nails his moment. Arjun Kapoor charms. Shanaya Kapoor adds zest. Manoj Pahwa steals every scene he’s in. Emraan Hashmi and Karan Johar lean into their personas with fearless self-parody, and Arshad Warsi? Comic gold, as always.
Then there’s Rajat Bedi as Jaraj Saxena – a meta nod to his “Kahin Toh Dekha Hai” reputation that’s both clever and riotous. A show-stopping awards ceremony feels like Aryan’s chaotic salute to Om Shanti Om, but with a sharper, smarter bite.
Unmasking bollywood’s doglapan
The hypocrisy, the two-faced friendships, the transactional love – it’s all there. Aryan peels back the layers of artifice with the precision of someone who has seen the industry from too many uncomfortable angles.
One of the most gut-punching scenes comes during a party raid by a fictional agency called the NCG – an unmissable parallel to Aryan’s own highly publicized run-in with the authorities. It’s raw, sardonic, and dripping with the sort of commentary only personal scars can fuel.
This is more than parody – it’s reclamation.
Breakout performances and lost ppportunities
Lakshya anchors the madness with a performance that blends arrogance, charm, and simmering insecurity. He’s not just playing Aasman Singh – he’s channeling the broken dreams of every wannabe star.
Among the ensemble, Manoj Pahwa is a scene-stealing delight as the foul-mouthed yet lovable uncle. Rajat Bedi is hilariously poignant. Manish Chaudhary delivers the gravitas. And Emraan Hashmi and Karan Johar flex surprising comic timing.
But some characters get shortchanged. Raghav Juyal brings irresistible energy but is boxed into the ‘comic best friend’ cliché, despite a hint of a redemption arc. Mona Singh, saddled with the melodramatic ‘Bollywood maa’ trope, fights her way to depth. Sahher Bambba barely gets space, while Anya Singh sparkles only to be handed an abrupt, almost tokenistic LGBTQIA+ subplot that goes nowhere.
Aryan may be bold in storytelling – but ensemble balance is a lesson still in progress.
Profanity, pandemonium and pure desi corn
The cussing is relentless – sometimes sharp, sometimes excessive. While it adds grit, the shock factor dulls when overused. Still, some of the sharpest zingers are laced with expletives, and the closing line – “Say No To Drugs” followed by “Directed by Aryan Khan” – is a masterstroke of ironic defiance.
There are moments so over-the-top they border on parody of parody. But Aryan leans into the chaos. He embraces the corniness with conviction, turning cringe into camp, and camp into commentary. It’s messy by design – and gloriously so.
Heart beneath the havoc
Amidst the madness, Aryan ensures the emotional core never gets lost. Aasman’s complicated relationship with his parents, his unwavering friendship with his manager, and the flickers of vulnerability beneath his bravado – all offer genuine moments of connection.
These quieter beats prevent the show from descending into meaningless noise. They remind us that behind every superstar’s swagger is often a scared, scarred, and searching soul.
A love letter drenched in satire
By the time the final credits roll – and the asterisks in the title are revealed to mean exactly what you thought – The Ba**ds of Bollywood has delivered everything: meta madness, razor-sharp satire, chaotic cameos, emotional detours, and a whole lot of glorious nonsense.
Aryan Khan proves he’s not just here to exist – he’s here to provoke, parody, and participate. As a creator, writer, and director, he’s refreshingly fearless. He spares no one, protects no legacy, and roasts the industry he also clearly loves.
Yes, the show stumbles. It loses steam toward the end. Some arcs feel rushed. But even in its flaws, it feels honest, audacious, and alive.
Final verdict
The Ba**ds of Bollywood is a profane, pulpy, and passionate rollercoaster that celebrates and skewers Hindi cinema in equal measure. It’s a messy debut – but one packed with promise, punchlines, and personality.
Ratings: 3.5/5⭐
