Param Sundari charms, just not enough

"Param Sundari" is the kind of film that arrives with the promise of freshness but leaves behind the faint perfume of déjà vu. In theory, it is a clever premise for a modern romance as a data-driven Delhi businessman finds his match through an algorithm, only to realise that love, unlike code, cannot be debugged. But somewhere between the Kerala backwaters and Bollywood's nostalgic obsession with North-meets-South love stories, the film loses its way. The result is neither the witty rom-com it aspires to be nor the heartfelt cultural bridge it could have been.

Sidharth Malhotra plays Param, a second-generation entrepreneur with more ambition than direction. When a new dating app claims to connect soulmates through frequencies, Param decides to test it himself before investing. His match turns out to be Sundari, played by Janhvi Kapoor, a Mohiniyattam dancer who has traded her art for the practical grind of running a homestay in Kerala. Their meeting sparks the predictable push-and-pull of misunderstanding and attraction, set against a postcard-perfect version of South India, with the kind of beauty that exists only when seen through a tourist's lens. What begins as a potentially sharp commentary on technology, love, and authenticity quickly devolves into a familiar Bollywood template. The story's problem is not its predictability; romantic comedies often thrive on formula. The issue is the film's unwillingness to dig deeper into the emotional truth beneath the surface. Every time Param and Sundari seem poised to become real people with real conflicts, the script retreats into stereotypes. He becomes the clueless yet charming Punjabi guy, she is reduced to the virtuous, culture-bound Malayali girl. Their chemistry, while aesthetically pleasing, feels like choreography rather than connection. They are too polished, too aware of the camera, and too afraid to be messy; which is precisely what love demands on screen.

Photo: Collected

The film's cultural lens does not help. Kerala here is presented as a checklist of tropes: boat races, toddy, elephants, Onam feasts, and a sprinkling of coconut trees for texture. The Malayalam phrases and traditional performances appear not as organic parts of Sundari's life but as props to authenticate her difference. It is an aestheticisation of identity rather than an exploration of it. To its credit, the cinematography by Santhana Krishnan Ravichandran captures the lush greens and golden hues of the region beautifully, but visual richness cannot disguise cultural laziness. Director Tushar Jalota keeps the tone light, but lightness without insight is just air. The screenplay by Jalota, Gaurav Mishra, and Aarsh Arora borrows liberally from its predecessors, and the likes of "Chennai Express", "2 States", even "Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge" to a certain extent, but forgets what made those films endure.

In "2 States", the tension was not between the North and South but between individuals negotiating identity, ambition, and family expectations. In "Chennai Express", the caricature was offset by electric chemistry and self-aware humour. "Param Sundari" tries for both and achieves neither. Its humour lands softly, its romance lands flatter. However, there are fleeting moments that almost redeem it. A scene where Sundari's little sister urges her to choose happiness offers a glimpse of the film it could have been: a story about a woman reclaiming her choices in a world that romanticises sacrifice. Another, where Param climbs a coconut tree to prove his love, manages to inject some playful absurdity into the otherwise mechanical romance. And the boat race sequence, staged with energy and colour, is one of the few times the film feels alive.

Janhvi Kapoor gives Sundari an earnest vulnerability, but the script does her no favour. Her Malayalam accent feels laboured, and the film does not allow her to expand beyond the stereotype of the gentle, dutiful girl who finds liberation through a man's affection. Sidharth Malhotra is charming enough, but his Param never moves past the safe zone of self-deprecating heroism. Their dynamic feels curated for Instagram rather than cinema with all surface gloss, and little emotional gravity. Sanjay Kapoor, playing Param's father, injects some late vitality into the narrative. His loud Punjabi warmth is both caricature and comfort, and for a brief stretch, the film relaxes into its own identity instead of pretending to be something pan-Indian. But by then, the damage is done. The second half, though slightly more engaging, arrives too late to salvage the stakes.

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Sachin-Jigar's music, particularly the love ballad "Pardesiya", gives the film its emotional texture even when the writing fails to. There is an old-world sincerity in Sonu Nigam's voice that evokes nostalgia for an era when Bollywood's love songs were unashamedly sentimental. The rest of the soundtrack, while serviceable, feels like filler. What makes "Param Sundari" especially frustrating is that it flirts with interesting questions but never courts them seriously. Could a romance born from an algorithm ever rival one born from chance? Can love transcend not just geography but the digital boundaries of curated compatibility? The film gestures toward these ideas but quickly retreats into safer terrain. Instead of interrogating how AI, data, and emotion intersect, it uses the dating app device as a gimmick. In the end, love wins, the parents smile, and Kerala remains a scenic backdrop to another Bollywood fantasy.

Photo: Collected

To call "Param Sundari" a bad film would be unfair. It is competently made, attractively shot, and harmless in its intentions. But to call it good would be equally dishonest. It is the kind of film that mistakes prettiness for passion and familiarity for comfort. Its tragedy is not that it offends but that it does not surprise. When the climax unfolds, complete with boat chases, revelations, and an obligatory kiss, you can almost predict every beat a minute before it happens. At a time when audiences crave authenticity, this film feels trapped in nostalgia for a kind of cinema that no longer resonates. It wants to be modern but is built on the bones of a bygone formula. The irony is that its very premise of testing whether an algorithm can engineer love mirrors its own artistic failure. Everything about the film is algorithmic: the beats, the arcs, the emotions. Nothing feels discovered; everything feels computed. And perhaps that is the final takeaway. Love, like good cinema, cannot be coded. It requires risk, imperfection, and an occasional leap into the unknown. Unfortunately, "Param Sundari" never takes that leap. It stays safe, polished, algorithmically pleasant as a film that promises frequency matches but delivers static instead.