R. Madhavan's 'Aap Jaisa Koi' Review: Love Ages Well, Manchild(s) Don't

Netflix and Dharmatic's Aap Jaisa Koi lacks emotional depth, failing to create a memorable romcom experience.

R. Madhavan in a still from Aap Jaisa Koi 

(Photo Courtsey : YouTube)

What does it take to make a romantic comedy work? If you ask Google, it’ll tell you that a traditional romcom would ideally have elements like a meet-cute, a hurdle to the lead couple’s love story, and ultimately them coming together against all odds.

In principle, Dharmatic Entertainment and Netflix’s latest Aap Jaisa Koi, directed by Vivek Soni, has most of these going for it. But it doesn’t seem enough. Then the question, maybe, should be: What does it take to make a romantic comedy memorable when we live in an age of abundance — of options, of stories, of 90-second reels that demand your attention incessantly?

Where the Film Finds Its True Voice (Or Rather Doesn't)

One possible answer is empathy — a simple word, but sadly often missing.

Soni’s directorial feature Aap Jaisa Koi follows Shrirenu Tripathi (R Madhavan), a 42-year-old Sanskrit teacher from Jamshedpur, and Madhu Bose (Fatima Sana Shaikh), a 32-year-old independent and feisty French teacher from Kolkata.

He’s lonely, she’s exhausted by the search for love — and both are considered 'too old' to be unmarried, according to societal norms and gender expectations.

Around the 40-minute mark, Madhu jokes, “Pehli meeting mei main samajh gayi thi. Cute girl, nerdy boy; ban sakti hai ek romcom.' (I understood in the very first meeting. Cute girly, nerdy boy; this can be a romcom).
And it could have been — if not for the lack of a story that tugs at the audience’s heartstrings, or at the very least — a couple that they can root for.

At multiple points in the film, you are left wondering whether Shrirenu and Madhu even belong together. It's not because they’re too different or that they had different upbringings, but because the emotional burden of Shrirenu’s growth is placed entirely on Madhu.

The film treats her less like a partner and more like a catalyst.

Fatima Sana Shaikh in a still from Aap Jaisa Koi 

(Photo Courtsey : YouTube)

A Love Story Without Equal Partnership

Shrirenu comes from a family where his elder brother, the patriarch, has the final word on everything. On the other hand, Madhu’s family is supposedly liberal where women 'drink, play cards, and talk about politics,' much to the anguish of the Tripathis. They meet through a conventional arranged marriage setup, develop feelings for each other, and get engaged. However, one revelation tears them and their families apart.

Their family dynamics echo Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani — another Dharma film in which a patriarchal family meets a home where women take the lead. But unlike Rocky, who takes it upon himself to grow, Shrirenu relies on Madhu to do the heavy lifting. A choice that drains the romance of its emotional charge.

To its credit, the film does have its fleeting moment(s) in the sun — a lovely background score, a striking cinematography, and a rare mainstream focus on loneliness.

Even Shrirenu, as an individual, is open to learning and trying to love as an equal. However, both these attempts feel like afterthoughts to the story. 

The Real Heart of the Film Lies Elsewhere

Interestingly, the star of the film, for me, turned out to be Ayesha Raza (Kusum bhabhi.) Her defiance to a life spent being at the receiving end of indifference does more than just move the plot forward for the lead couple. Her rebellion against quiet oppression, her refusal to be sidelined anymore become the true story of transformation - altering not just her life, but potentially bettering her daughter’s as well.

Ayesha Raza in a still from Aap Jaisa Koi 

(Photo Courtsey : YouTube)

Aap Jaisa Koi, as a creative entity, also begs the larger question of whether important lessons delivered through films time and time again are falling on deaf ears. 

Exactly a decade ago, a scene from Zoya Akhtar’s Dil Dhadakne Do had struck a chord with so many people that it still goes viral every now and then on social media — that of a slight confrontation between Rahul Bose’s and Farhan Akhtar’s characters.

Bose says that he’s allowed his wife to work, and Akhtar asks why she needed his permission in the first place.

A similar sequence follows here in the Madhavan-Shaikh starrer and this repetition feels like a reminder that while big gestures on the screen might create fairytales, how little things have changed.

Eventually, perhaps, it all comes back to the first question. What does it take to make a romcom memorable? Giving the audience a story to root for, or telling them why they should care; a cause lost here.

(Garima Sadhwani is an independent journalist, now working with a Mumbai-based production house. This is an opinion piece. The views expressed above are the author’s own and do not reflect that of her employer.)