I’ll be honest — B*****ds of Bollywood wasn’t something I was dying to watch. In fact, when I first heard about it — the directorial debut of a star kid— I mentally filed it under Yet Another Nepo Experiment and moved on with my life. But as fate (and two overly persuasive friends) would have it, I caved. “You have to watch it,” they said. “It’s brilliant,” they said. So, armed with skepticism and low expectations, I pressed play.

And well… let’s just say, brilliance wasn’t quite the word that came to mind.

The show starts off with a lot of promise — the title itself hints at a deliciously dark, self-aware parody of the movie industry. I was expecting sharp satire, biting humor, and a cheeky behind-the-scenes peek into the glamorous yet grotesque underbelly of Bollywood. Instead, what I got was a confused mix of chaos, clichés, and cameos. Lots and lots of cameos.

To give credit where it’s due, the idea is interesting. A meta look at Bollywood, told through a satirical lens, could have been gold. But somewhere between the first episode and the final credits, the satire lost its sense of humor — and its direction. The writing seems to have gone through the same struggle as its protagonist — wanting to make it big, but not quite knowing how.

Speaking of the protagonist — Lakshya plays Aasman the typical wide-eyed hero who wants to make it in the movies. He’s the perfect son, dutifully looks after his parents, and dreams of stardom while being crushed by the big bad industry. Sound familiar? That’s because you’ve seen this story a hundred times before — in films, interviews, and even in real life. At this point, real Bollywood scandals are more original than this script.

To be fair, Lakshya does what he can with what he’s given. His performance isn’t bad, but his character feels like it was built from leftover clichés of every 90s hero. If the brief was “play a textbook Bollywood struggler,” then mission accomplished.

The love interest, meanwhile, exists mostly to be… well, the love interest. She’s fine — just not memorable. It’s the kind of role that could have been played by anyone with a decent Instagram following and a hair stylist on speed dial.

Now, let’s talk about the man who practically ate the screen every time he appeared — Bobby Deol. What a treat! He walks into every frame like he owns it (and frankly, he does). His performance is the perfect mix of eccentricity and gravitas — the kind that makes you wish the show had just been about him. If there’s one reason to watch B****ds of Bollywood, it’s Bobby.

Another surprise package was the female lead’s brother — a quirky, unpredictable character who brings much-needed energy to the show. Between him and Bobby, they carry around 70-80% of the entire series on their shoulders. The rest of the cast could’ve just taken the day off and nobody would’ve noticed.

And then there’s the friend of the lead character Raghav Juyal as Parvez— now, I’ve never been particularly fond of the “Chapri–type” archetype, so it’s hard for me to gauge how realistic this character really is. He feels more like a caricature than a character — the kind who thrives on exaggerated swagger, flashy clothes, and misplaced confidence. Maybe that was the intention, maybe it wasn’t — but either way, it didn’t land for me. If the goal was to make him irritatingly real, then congratulations, mission accomplished. But if it was meant to make us empathize or connect, well, that train never quite left the station.

Then there’s Emraan Hashmi, popping up for what I can only describe as a glorified cameo. Underutilized, unnecessary, and frankly, forgettable. In fact, by the time the nth celebrity cameo showed up, I felt like I was watching an overenthusiastic awards night montage rather than a narrative.

And oh, Mona Singh — good enough in a role that requires her to do absolutely nothing, but to do it sincerely. She’s like the turtle in a race no one asked to run — steady, harmless, and mildly out of place.

What really lets B*****ds of Bollywood down, though, is its writing. The tone never settles It tries to juggle humor, satire, romance, pity and ends up dropping them all. The result is a patchy, messy narrative that doesn’t know what it wants to be.

The satire, too, feels watered down. There’s nothing sharp or scathing about it. It’s like someone tried to roast Bollywood but was too scared of offending anyone at the party. The jokes land softly, the commentary feels half-baked, and the punchlines often miss their mark entirely.

By the end of it all, I wasn’t angry — just indifferent. Which, in many ways, is worse. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t like it either. It’s the kind of show that makes you shrug, say “hmm, okay,” and move on with your life.

As for Aryan Khan , the director, it’s clearly a valiant attempt — you can almost sense the weight he’s carrying, trying to step out from under the giant shadow of a super-famous father. It must be exhausting, really — to create, to be taken seriously, and to prove that you’re not just another legacy project in the glittery factory of privilege. His vision is undeniably refreshing in parts; you can see flashes of originality peeking through the gloss. But somewhere along the way, he seems torn between homage and rebellion. It’s as if he wants to burn the old Bollywood playbook but can’t quite stop quoting from it. There’s potential here, definitely — but he still has a long way to go before he finds a cinematic voice that’s completely his own.

B*******s of Bollywood isn’t a complete disaster — it has its moments, mostly thanks to Bobby Deol and a few flashes of self-awareness. But for the most part, it’s a forgettable attempt at satire that mistakes chaos for cleverness.

If you’re a die-hard Bollywood insider or a fan of cameos, sure, give it a go. Otherwise, you’re not missing much.

Consider this your friendly reminder that sometimes, even mediocrity can come with a star cast.