The Ba***ds Of Bollywood

Netflix’s latest web series, The Ba***ds Of Bollywood, directed by Aryan Khan, is a sharp-edged satire on the Hindi film industry. Woven with comedy, sarcasm, and bursts of emotion, the seven episodes deliver a scathing and playful portrait of the industry. Crucially, it does so, mostly, without pandering to the lowest common denominator, offering instead, a masala entertainer with an unexpectedly incisive bite.

Aasmaan Singh (Lakshya), a rising actor, makes a sensational debut in a blockbuster film produced by the influential and controlling Freddy (Manish Chaudhari). At the film’s success party, Freddy cunningly coaxes Aasmaan into signing a restrictive three-film deal, much to the dismay of his manager, Sanya (Anya Singh). During a roundtable with fellow debutants, Aasmaan’s sarcastic remarks about Karishma (Sahher Bambba), daughter of the celebrated actor Ajay Talwar (Bobby Deol), further highlight his arrogance. Paradoxically, his brashness draws the attention of Karan Johar (playing himself), who wants him to star opposite Karishma in a big-budget project. Yet Freddy’s contract binds him, and on top of that, Ajay is adamant that his daughter should not debut opposite Aasmaan. Determined to seize the opportunity, Aasmaan must find a way to outmaneuver Freddy and navigate the industry’s intricate hierarchies.

On the surface, The Ba***ds Of Bollywood might seem like a filmmaker’s playful dive into the world of Hindi cinema, using an insider’s references for easy amusement. Yet Aryan Khan, drawing on his unique vantage point as the son of one of India’s biggest superstars (Shah Rukh Khan), shapes the storytelling with meticulous plot setups and satisfying payoffs, ensuring the story remains purposeful rather than merely mocking. Alongside co-writers Bilal Siddiqi and Manav Chauhan, Khan has crafted a screenplay where each episode flows seamlessly into the next, maintaining a smooth narrative flow. Rumours and gossip are amusingly woven into the storytelling, transforming whispered anecdotes into incisive, often humorous moments. The series confronts issues ranging from favoritism and restrictive contracts that can jeopardise an actor’s career to calculated media manipulation, all handled with a balance that keeps the show from tipping into chaotic extravagance.

The series is inhabited by characters and situations that feel instantly familiar. Aasmaan’s closest friend, Parvaiz (Raghav Juyal), comes from a minority community and maintains ties to the underworld. His fierce loyalty drives him to great lengths for their friendship, a secular bond later underscored in a pyre-burning sequence. Aasmaan’s parents, Rajat (Vijayant Kohli) and Neeta (Mona Singh) as Aasmaan’s parents, provide unwavering support. Neeta’s own unrealised dream of an acting career, curtailed to a life as a background dancer, adds subtle poignancy. His uncle Avtaar (Manoj Pahwa), still striving as a musician in middle age, underscores the pursuit of creative ambition amid an unforgiving industry where fate can favor or forsake at any moment. Aasmaan’s manager, Sanya, embodies the quiet labour and dedication that often shape an actor’s trajectory behind the scenes. In contrast, Karishma’s upbringing is defined by the shadow of her superstar father, Ajay Talwar, a controlling presence, while her mother Anu (Gautami Kapoor) remains affectionate yet largely voiceless in family decisions. Her younger brother, Shaumik, a caustic and idle presence, draws his father’s disdain. Each of these primary characters is fully realised, their arcs interwoven as they navigate the industry’s unpredictable universe.

The Ba***ds Of Bollywood can’t resist indulging in meta-references, a predictable move for a show so steeped in its self-awareness. The first episode has a thinly veiled nod to an officer, modelled on Sameer Wankhede, relishing the arrest of Bollywood figures for drug use. Cameos abound, too. Aamir Khan and SS Rajamouli debating vada pav versus idli sambar, Emraan Hashmi coaching actors in the art of intimacy, Arshad Warsi as the bespectacled don Ghafoor with makeup evoking SRK’s Raees (2017), and even Shah Rukh himself, self-mockingly referred to as the ‘Badshah’. In one standout moment, Karan Johar pointedly warns Aasmaan not to tangle with the “movie mafia.”

The script also winks at Bollywood’s past through nods to DDLJ (1995), K3G (2001), and Om Shanti Om (2007), among others. These flourishes add a playful charge, though they occasionally lapse into indulgence. Song sequences like Badli Si Hawa Hai, while not especially memorable, serve effectively to chart the debutants’ preparation. But not all flourishes land well. A scene in which a character secretly records a meeting between an actor and a don feels clumsily staged, as does another set in a massage parlour, and an overblown action piece in a bar. They jar against the tone the series otherwise establishes.

Lakshya and Raghav Juyal, who clashed as rivals in the actioner Kill (2023), here share a believable camaraderie. Lalwani’s Aasmaan balances the swagger of a newcomer with flashes of vulnerability in an unforgiving industry, while Juyal, as his steadfast friend, not only bolsters his journey but also delivers some of the show’s sharpest comic beats, particularly in his exchanges with Emraan Hashmi. Manoj Pahwa brings warmth as Avtaar, another pillar of support for Aasmaan. Bobby Deol imbues Ajay Talwar with both star charisma and authoritarian menace, while Manish Chaudhari makes Freddy’s arrogance and manipulative streak disturbingly credible. Among the women, Anya Singh lends quiet strength to Sanya, Aasmaan’s devoted manager, and Mona Singh brings pathos to Neeta, the mother whose own thwarted dreams deepen her empathy. Sahher Bambba’s Karishma, though somewhat underwhelming, benefits from her earnestness. The wider ensemble, too, finds its moments, ensuring the cast collectively anchors the satire with conviction.

Jay Pinak Oza’s cinematography captures the glitz and grit of the industry with equal measure. His frames oscillate between glossy spectacle and intimate scrutiny, never losing sight of the narrative. Nitin Baid’s editing gives the series its pulse, allowing episodes to flow into one another with a rhythm that sustains both momentum and tonal balance. The sound design by Anirban Sengupta complements this fluidity, while Shashwat Sachdev’s background score works in tandem, heightening comic beats and underlining moments of drama without tipping into excess.

The Ba***ds Of Bollywood revels in its excesses yet manages to maintain a narrative discipline that keeps it from spiralling out of control. While certain choices falter, the strength of the performances, the sharp writing, and the technical assurance make it a compelling enough ride. Above all, it signals the arrival of a filmmaker with surprising confidence.

Hindi, Drama, Comedy, Color