Royal ignore to plotline, they shine
A reluctant heir to the gaddi, an ambitious CEO of a hospitality startup — sparks fly when they meet. For most parts, ‘The Royals’, touted as a romcom, is expectedly a love story between a blue-blooded heir and a commoner. Only, this aam kumari, to borrow from the series lingo, is no Cinderella. In fact, the so-called ordinary mortal Sophia Kanmani Shekhar (Bhumi Pednekar) is extraordinary and spunky. Winner of the Entrepreneur of the Year Award, she dresses more nattily than royals do. She bumps into her prince annoying Aviraj Singh (Ishaan Khatter) in the very first scene and though attraction is palpable, they soon fall out.
Only, kahani abhi shuru hui hai… Since her latest brainwave is the new hospitality experience Royal B&B, rest assured they will meet again. The drama is supposedly about her world colliding with that of the royals. Only, we never see a real conflict in jab they meet — when royalty meets enterprise. Royalty obviously is up to nothing. Its matriarch (Zeenat Aman in a cameo) says, “Hum Morpur ke hain, hum kuch karte nahin, bas hum hain.” The same could be said about the series where despite much hullaballoo, nothing of import truly happens.
For the story’s sake, its Maharaja-to-be is a top-shot model. One of the sons, Digvijay Singh (Vihaan Samat is endearing), is a chef in the making but hides his talent from the world, until he enters a cooking competition. Then there are men and women in the closet, literally.
Daughter of the family Jinnie (Kavya Trehan) mostly twiddles her thumbs. Mother Rani Padmaja (Sakshi Tanwar) dresses up to nines and is trying to keep her Motibagh Palace in place, for her late husband’s will has ensured a load full of debts. Then there is the suitable princess Ayesha (Nora Fatehi). Amidst the melee of its characters, there is an extra-zealous attempt to make its leads stand head and shoulders above all. Any wonder, most others, including the company’s cofounder, appear redundant.
Mounted in regal style as befitting its title, despite the ultra-glam look of the series, it has nothing substantial to offer. A sneak peek into the lives of erstwhile maharajas and maharanis should ideally give us vicarious pleasure. But, with the usual accoutrements — a polo match, a dance ball and, finally, a fashion show — much glitters on the surface. Crumbling royalty, fissures behind the glittery facade… the deep questions are not probed, just thrown about offhandedly. Yes, our hero Aviraj has a history, not of bravery and valour but with his late father (Milind Soman). Sophia is saddled with a sob story, too, which explains her drive and ambition.
No doubt both Bhumi and Ishaan look good, baring their toned bodies, (abs in place) at the slightest provocation. Bhumi looks like a million bucks, her style quotient is to die for. Only, her exasperation to pull off her ambitious project rubs on to you. Their love tiffs are more annoying than relatable. Even Ishaan’s charm can’t make us shake off the dreariness of their chemistry. Yesteryear’s bombshell Zeenat Aman’s character is not even half as exciting as her interesting blogs.
The only natural in this world of artifice is Sakshi Tanwar. As Rani Padmaja, be it her dalliances with the Sultan of Hearts (Chunky Panday shown as Bollywood Badshah), or her attempt to keep her legacy and her family together, Sakshi truly pulls it off.
Writers try too hard to make sense of the implausibility of their over-stacked concoction. Goofiness could have lifted the series, but is restricted to the company’s name, Workpotato, a clever take on couch potato.
Of course, though the twist in the tale is as apparent as the dilemma of the heir apparent, things do begin to turn interesting in the final two episodes. The eight-episode series ending on a cliffhanger promises more than it delivers in the first season. In normal circumstances, we would have said, ‘Stay away from this cheesy glossy drama.’ But in the gloomy times we are living in, this superficial tale of raj kumars and aam kumaris could be the much-needed distraction. Only, remember, as Dino Morea’s Nawab Salad says, “Hum phate kapde chupane ke liye sone ki sherwani bhi pehn lete hain,” don’t you dare dig deep. If only the makers had paid more attention to plotlines than the sartorial choices of its key players.
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