Param Sundari

In the popular teen romance series Summer I Turned Pretty, adapted from Jenny Han’s books by the same name, leading lady Belly speaks of how she just can’t imagine marrying someone who doesn’t give her the “fireworks”“you know, like electric jolts, every time I see them”. In Tushar Jalota’s Param Sundari, Kerala’s most eligible girl Sundari (Janhvi Kapoor) finds herself in a similar conundrum when Punjabi munda Param (Sidharth Malhotra) strolls into her life (read homestay) believing she is his soulmate. Only unlike Belly’s karmic connection to Conrad, to whom the observation is made, Param and Sundari hardly exude MFEO (made for each other) vibes. And this despite having Sonu Nigam sing a pretty good romantic number in Pardesiya.

Param Sundari, directed by Tushar Jalota and starring Sidharth Malhotra and Janhvi Kapoor, attempts a North-meets-South romance but falls flat. Laden with clichés, forced chemistry, and predictable tropes, the film struggles despite Kerala’s beauty, sidekick humour, and forgettable music. At 136 minutes, this Bollywood rom-com offers visual delight but little substance, proving yet again that cross-cultural love stories need more than recycled stereotypes and surface spectacle. India’s diversity has long been the go-to spice rack for Bollywood romances, and our filmmakers haven’t missed a single masala. From Raanjhanaa to Two States and Goliyon Ki Raasleela Ram-Leela, we’ve seen lovers playing Romeo and Juliet across caste lines, language barriers, and angry elders wielding moral outrage like a family heirloom. So, it’s no surprise that Param Sundari joins the tradition—this time with a Punjabi munda and a Malayali miss, thrown together in a cross-cultural curry that aims to be spicy but ends up more sambhar-lite.

Directed by Tushar Jalota, Param Sundari is a romantic comedy that possesses a very flimsy base, like a papad. This base disintegrates quickly, leading to a succession of familiar scenes that unfold over a duration of two hours. With the lingering influence of Chennai Express (2013), Param Sundari emerges as yet another narrative exploring the cultural divide between North and South, interspersed with some contrived romantic elements.

Early in this romantic comedy, when Param (Siddharth Malhotra), a second-generation businessman who is besotted with data, buys into the idea of a new computer application that promises to find the perfect match for netizens, he wonders, “It looks good in theory, but is it practical?”. An hour into the film, and one realises that Param was inadvertently talking about the screenplay he is part of. The story of a romance crossing regional and cultural barriers might have sounded great on paper, but on screen, it plateaus before it reaches Deccan. In romantic comedies, the destination is usually known; it is the journey that matters. Twelve years after Chennai Express, Bollywood boards a passenger train to Kerala with the same level of ignorance about the South but much more self-awareness. Both liquidate the fun.

It’s never a good sign when I start thinking of colourful analogies and lines for the review while the film is still on. It’s a worse sign when I start reviewing the cinema hall in my head instead: the smell of popcorn is overwhelming, the seats are too leathery, the temperature is just right, the ushers are respectful, the toilets are too far, the trailers go on forever, the darkness is too dark. That’s how forgettable Param Sundari is. Everything except the screen comes into focus. The cross-cultural romantic comedy — where a generic Delhi hunk sets out to woo an occasionally Malayali girl — does the usual shtick of endless Bollywood and SRK references, recycled puns, borrowed charisma, and unoriginality disguised as hat tips. I did come up with an analogy, though. Watching the film is like walking through an upscale clothing store (“North-South collection”) in which shoppers pose in the mirror and google the latest fashion brands, Kerala Tourism ads and Chennai Express teasers play on loop on screens, and hoardings of airbrushed celebrities vow to improve our middle-class lives. In other words, it’s hard to tell a movie theatre from a mall.