By News18,Yatamanyu Narain

Copyright news18

When Aryan Khan first announced his maiden directorial venture, a satirical drama that dared to turn the camera inward on Bollywood itself, the collective industry and audience held their breath. Could Shah Rukh Khan’s son navigate the treacherous waters of legacy, nepotism debates, and sky-high expectations? Seven episodes later, his debut The B***ds of Bollywood proves not only audacious but also surprisingly self-aware, a whip-smart cocktail of drama, parody, and truth-telling that refuses to blink in the face of the industry’s hypocrisies.
The series wastes no time easing into its world. We meet Aasmaan Singh (Lakshya Lalwani), an outsider whose grit is evident in the first frame, when he risks his own body to complete a dangerous stunt after the stuntman is injured. That gamble pays off; his debut film Revolver, bankrolled by top producer Freddy Sodawallah (a sharp, sly Manish Chaudhari), becomes a hit. “Stars are made, not born,” Aasmaan insists, and his meteoric rise seems to prove it.
But Aryan doesn’t let the fairy tale linger. The glittering success party that follows isn’t just champagne and spotlights, it’s a collision of dreams deferred and egos bruised. Aasmaan arrives with his family of near-forgotten: Neeta Singh (Mona Singh), a once-hopeful actress who never made it; Rajat (Vijayant Kohli), his loving but ailing father; and Avtaar Singh (a boisterous Manoj Pahwa), the uncle whose stolen tunes reduced him to singing Chaiyya Chaiyya covers in smoky bars. Around them whirl cameos both cheeky and biting, Ranveer Singh limping across a red carpet, Karan Johar offering a smirk that’s more dagger than smile, and even a brazen jab at the infamous Sameer Wankhede episode.
Aasmaan is soon offered a lucrative three-film deal by Freddy, but his sharp-eyed manager Sanya (Anya Singh) sets her sights higher, steering him toward Karan Johar, still reeling from Ranveer Singh’s exit. At a starry roundtable, Aasmaan locks horns with Karishma Talwar (Sahher Bambba), daughter of veteran actor Ajay Talwar (Bobby Deol), in a scene that slyly recalls Siddhant Chaturvedi and Ananya Panday’s infamous episode. His raw candor impresses Karan, and suddenly the boy from nowhere is being courted by the establishment itself.
The game, however, grows bloodier. Freddy demands loyalty. Karan baits him with promises of stardom. Ajay Talwar (a magnetic Bobby Deol), Bollywood royalty and Karishma Talwar’s (Sahher Bambba) protective father, bristles at this outsider circling his daughter. Aasmaan, caught in a dizzying tug-of-war, becomes less of a rising star and more of a pawn in a ruthless industry machine.
What’s remarkable is Aryan’s fearlessness in biting the very hand that feeds him. The show is laced with satirical digs at nepotism, sycophancy, media voyeurism, and the fragile scaffolding of celebrity culture. Yet it never collapses into cynicism, there’s always a thread of humour, absurdity, and even tenderness that keeps the narrative buoyant. The Ba***ds of Bollywood invites you to watch not as an audience but as a voyeur, peering into the messy, intoxicating backstage chaos that props up the glamour of the silver screen. The dialogues are peppered with wit, sometimes savage, sometimes absurd, but almost always entertaining.
Still, the series falters in places. Too many characters crowd the frame, slowing the story’s pulse and stretching the narrative thin. Some tropes feel recycled, and at times the satire threatens to spiral into indulgence. But Shashwat Sachdev, Anirudh Ravichander, and Ujwal Gupta’s thunderous soundtrack, tracks like Badli Si Hawa Hai, Ruseya, and Who’s Your Daddy, keeps the show burning with the rebellious energy of its protagonist.
Speaking of performances, Lakshya, as mentioned earlier, slips into the skin of Aasmaan with startling honesty. He moves seamlessly through anger, love, sincerity, rebellion, and dedication, embodying the contradictions of a man clawing his way up the star ladder. Raghav Juyal as Parvaiz proves to be the perfect foil, his playful timing and effortless humour lighting up every scene he shares with Lakshya, their camaraderie making for some of the most memorable moments in the series. Bobby Deol as Ajay Talwar is fierce, protective, and unpredictable, wielding his aura like a weapon. His performance is layered with menace and tenderness in equal measure, and once again he surprises viewers with the sheer command he brings to the screen.
Sahher Bambba as Karishma shines incandescently opposite Lakshya, blending vulnerability and vulnerability with a star kid’s effortless glamour. Her crackling chemistry with him adds both heat and tenderness, making their pairing impossible to look away from. Manoj Pahwa as Avtaar Singh, the loud, bruised, and brash uncle, is a scene-stealer, anchoring the screenplay with his raucous humour while shading it with a tragic undercurrent that makes him impossible to ignore.
Anya Singh as Sanya is sharp and steady, the kind of manager who stands tall beside Aasmaan even as Bollywood’s glitter threatens to drown him, and she delivers with poise. Manish Chaudhari as Freddy Sodawallah is chilling, menacing, and ruthlessly cutthroat, embodying misogyny and power with terrifying ease. In one scene, when he violently lashes out at a female art director for defying him, his cruelty makes you recoil, hating him with every ounce of your being.
Rajat Bedi as Jaraj Saxena barrels through the screenplay with relentless chaos, a force that keeps the tension alive. Vijayant Kohli as Rajat Singh, Mona Singh as Neeta Singh, and the glittering constellation of cameos — Shah Rukh Khan, Aamir Khan, Salman Khan, Rajkummar Rao, Arjun Kapoor, Ranbir Kapoor, Ibrahim Ali Khan, Disha Patani, and many others — shimmering like sparks scattered across the series, adding flavour, surprise, and a wink to the audience that this world, however fictional, is rooted in a very real Bollywood.
In the end, The B***ds of Bollywood isn’t flawless, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s messy, ambitious, and daring, much like the industry it skewers. Aryan Khan’s debut signals a filmmaker willing to dance with fire, to mock his own gilded world while confessing its allure. It entertains, it provokes, and above all, it reminds us why Bollywood, for all its contradictions, remains an obsession: equal parts dream, nightmare, and spectacle.