Be
it
as
a
source
of
fire,
secret
or
endgame,
everything
is
seen
through
the
prism
of
sex
and
good
looks
in
The
Royals,
observes
Sukanya
Verma.
When
a
prince
of
a
dippy,
strapped-for-cash
royal
family
meets
a
pushy
possessor
of
a
hospitality
start-up,
foreplay
makes
way
for
a
financially
profitable
proposition.
Creator
Rangita
Pritish
Nandy’s
modern-day
fairy
tale,
directed
by
Priyanka
Ghose
and
Nupur
Asthana,
is
tailor-made
for
rom-com
vibes.
While
the
makers
embellish
the
couple’s
‘blow
hot
and
cold’
equation
with
ample
of
visual
razzmatazz,
their
wet
blanket
chemistry
and
dowdily-crafted
scenes
of
‘opposites
attract’
prove
to
be
a
buzzkill
for
its
eight
scatterbrained
episodes.
Add
to
that
a
cliffhanger
ending
and
unresolved
issues
that
follow
once
skeletons
pop
out
of
the
closet,
the
prolonging
seems
unwarranted.
Ishaan
Khatter’s
Aviraaj
aka
Fizzy
is
a
shirt-resisting,
polo-playing,
party
animal
and
Maharaja-to-be,
fretfully
following
his
recently
deceased
father’s
orders
to
ascend
the
throne
of
Morpur
while
siblings
with
equally
silly
nicknames
—
Diggy
(hilarious
Vihaan
Samat)
and
Jinni
(bright-eyed
Kavya
Trehan)
secretly
pursue
their
own
paths.
Jinni’s
queer
impulses
and
Diggy’s
culinary
chef
dreams
wherein
he
sneaks
into
competitions
dressed
as
Bertie
Wooster
claiming
‘palace
mein
bartan
saaf
karta
hoon‘
to
deflect
attention
define
their
one
dimensional
purpose.
Aviraaj’s
mum
(Sakshi
Tanwar)
is
too
preoccupied
by
her
own
mindless
flings
(a
tacky
Chunky
Pandey,
a
shady
Alyy
Khan)
to
pay
much
notice.
In
the
hands
of
a
lesser
actress,
this
character
could
turn
out
to
be
a
caricature
but
Tanwar’s
cool
zing
and
firm
sass
creates
virtues
out
of
thin
air.
Too
bad
The
Royals
has
no
idea
what
to
do
with
all
that
cheek.
But
the
real
bummer
is
Zeenat
Aman’s
—
the
most
naturally
regal
and
curiously
cast
member
of
its
ensemble
cast
—
role
is
only
a
special
appearance.
Nevertheless,
her
dotty,
devil-may-care
grandmother,
the
kind
Zohra
Sehgal
would
nail
in
a
heartbeat,
is
a
fleeting
but
fabulous
embodiment
of
The
Royals
and
its
—
hum
kuch
karte
nahi,
hum
bas
hain
—
maxim.
At
the
other
end
of
this
royal
spectrum
is
Bhumi
Pednekar
as
Sophia
—
bearing
an
uncanny
resemblance
to
Sobhita
Dhulipala
from
Made
in
Heaven
—
desperate
to
realise
her
B&B
vision
of
bringing
royals
and
commoners
together
across
a
business
model
that
her
boss
shows
little
faith
in
and
co-partner
(a
staid
Udit
Arora)
only
appears
to
play
along.
Be
it
as
a
source
of
fire,
secret
or
endgame,
everything
is
seen
through
the
prism
of
sex
and
good
looks
in
The
Royals.
Much
of
the
screen
time
is
devoted
to
lusting
over
the
chiselled
abs
and
muscular
torsos
of
its
men
and
women
dressed
in
fancy
designer
attire
with
every
episode
throwing
in
a
reason
for
revelry.
The
same
courtesy
is
extended
towards
the
dead
too.
The
late
Maharaja
is
an
eternally
smouldering
Milind
Soman
striking
his
supermodel
pose
for
portraits
when
not
popping
up
for
flashbacks
to
unravel
the
mystery
behind
him
leaving
the
bulk
of
his
inheritance
to
a
mystery
called
Maurice.
From
its
Gossip
Girl-like
glamourous
aesthetic
to
Sophia’s
Emily
in
Paris
evoking
chaotic
love
life,
The
Royals
is
as
derivative
as
it
gets,
treading
the
done-to-death
path
of
extramarital
affairs,
gay
love
and
lavender
marriages
to
keep
its
boat
of
sensation
floating.
There’s
a
surplus
of
cheesy
humour
where
one-liners
sound
like
‘green
flag
nahi
green
forest
hai‘
and
crisis
is
created
around
bat
potty
solely
to
make
characters
quip,
‘Bat
Shit’,
characters
have
names
like
Salad
(Dino
Morea
in
vacation
mode),
keeping
with
The
Royals‘
penchant
for
ridiculous
pet
names,
so
that
five
episodes
later,
somebody
gets
to
crack
a
dumb
dressing
joke.
Amidst
these
chalky
cliches
and
cringeworthy
wit,
the
subplot
involving
Diggy’s
gastronomical
interests
shows
far
more
potential
than
the
lacklustre
romance
at
the
centre
of
all
action.
Except
The
Royals
is
too
lazy
to
give
it
any
real
bite.
Leave
it
to
Nora
Fatehi
then
as
the
hoity
toity
princess,
fully
aware
of
her
net
worth
and
floor-burning
flourish,
to
pack
in
far
more
sizzle
with
Ishaan
Khatter
in
one
dance
than
all
the
eight
episodes
between
him
and
Bhumi
going
back
and
forth.
Ishaan
has
an
easy
charm
about
him.
He
is
convincingly
arrogant
and
tender
in
turns
as
the
reluctant
royal
ready
to
catch
the
first
flight
to
New
York.
But
the
daft
script
refuses
to
let
the
man
be.
Always
contradicting
himself,
shirking
responsibilities
only
to
take
them
on
his
own
will
and
promptly
blaming
everyone
when
he
fails
to
deliver,
his
whiny
temperament
and
erratic
attitude
is
dangerous
and
not
hot
unlike
what
The
Royals
want
us
to
believe.
Pluck
comes
naturally
to
Bhumi
Pednekar
but
in
empowering
Sophia
too
forcefully,
she
renders
her
manipulative,
passive-aggressive
and
unlikeable.
There’s
nothing
to
root
for
about
her
shallow
passions
towards
the
prince.
What’s
far
more
enticing
is
the
look
of
luxury.
The
Royals
and
its
resplendent
wardrobe
make
a
case
for
keeping
up
appearances
far
more
effectively
than
all
its
topsy-turvy
inhabitants
over
eight
lame
episodes
of
soapy
royal
drama.
The
Royals
streams
on
Netflix.
The
Royals
Review
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