‘Param Sundari’: All the Beauty of Kerala Cannot Compensate for the Lack of Emotional Depth in the Romantic Fare
- Janhvi Kapoor and Sidharth Malhotra, both talented in their own right, seem more focused on projecting their “Bollywood star” personas than inhabiting their characters.
“Param Sundari” on Netflix is directed by Tushar Jalota and produced by Maddock Films under Dinesh Vijan. Bringing together Janhvi Kapoor and Sidharth Malhotra for the first time, the film unfolds across Kerala’s breathtaking landscapes — from the Chinese fishing nets and tranquil backwaters to the majestic Athirappilly Waterfalls.
Visually, it’s a feast. Every frame glows with Kerala’s lush, timeless beauty. Truly “God’s Own Country.” But beneath that scenic perfection lies a story that falters. While the film attempts to weave romance and regional flavor into a modern love story, it stumbles over its own clichés.
The narrative feels like a collage of familiar tropes borrowed from “Chennai Express,” “Baazigar” and “Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge,” with shades of “Two States” thrown in for its north-versus-south premise. There are elephants, language clashes, oversized weapons, a chaotic boat race and even a drunken dance number that ends with a flying lungi. But what’s missing is emotion — the heartbeat that makes a love story believable.
Janhvi Kapoor and Sidharth Malhotra, both talented in their own right, seem more focused on projecting their “Bollywood star” personas than inhabiting their characters. There is no ache, no longing in their relationship — not even a flicker of vulnerability. Their banter feels rehearsed, not lived. Compared to the richly emotional performances of Shah Rukh Khan and Deepika Padukone in “Chennai Express,” or the tension between Arjun Kapoor and Alia Bhatt in “Two States,” “Param Sundari” feels emotionally drab. Those earlier pairings — for all their commercial gloss — had genuine chemistry, drama and tenderness.
Even when Sundari’s childhood friend, the handsome Dr. Venu Nair (Siddhartha Shankar), reappears to marry her, the film lacks any real tension or turmoil. The story never challenges its leads to go deeper. Janhvi’s character — a parentified daughter forced to turn her beautiful Kerala-style home into a homestay while secretly yearning to become a Mohiniyattam dancer — had immense potential for depth. But we never truly see that yearning. There are moments when she gazes at her reflection or watches a dancer on television, yet the emotion never rises beyond the surface. Sundari’s younger sister Ammu (Inayat Verma), who plays cupid, reminded me of Chutki from “DDLJ.”
Compared to the richly emotional performances of Shah Rukh Khan and Deepika Padukone in “Chennai Express,” or the tension between Arjun Kapoor and Alia Bhatt in “Two States,” “Param Sundari” feels emotionally drab.
As I watched the movie, certain scenes made me wonder how Sridevi, Janhvi’s legendary mother, would have played this role. Sridevi had the rare gift of conveying longing without words; a single glance from her could reveal a lifetime’s ache. Janhvi, though gifted, seems to have been directed to stay pretty rather than raw. Don’t get me wrong — she has proven her acting range in “Mili” and “Gunjan Saxena,” and Sidharth Malhotra has shone in “Kapoor & Sons” and “Shershaah.” But in “Param Sundari,” neither seems emotionally invested.
The only reason I felt compelled to write about the film was not for its story, but for what it evoked in me. The glimpses of Kerala’s golden light, the swaying palms, the dancers in ivory and gold sarees — they reminded me of my late mother. She loved Kerala, its natural grace and its craftsmanship. I remember her coming home from her first trip, her face glowing with quiet joy as she unpacked a kasavu saree, a pouch of spices and a few pieces of jewelry.
She adored traditional Kerala ornaments: the Jimikki Kammal, those bell-shaped earrings that sway with every movement; the Thoda spirals curling like young vines around her earlobes; her Lakshmi bangles embossed with motifs of the goddess; and the Kazhuthila choker, its delicate leaf pendants echoing Kerala’s lush greenery. She often said that Kerala’s jewelry was nature cast in gold — jasmine buds, mango leaves, palm fronds, serpents, temple bells, all transformed into wearable poetry.
So, I found myself paying more attention to the jewelry than to the plot. The film, despite its flaws, transported me back to those memories — my mother’s smile, the scent of her sandalwood soap, the soft rustle of kasavu silk. It also reminded me of Priya Dharmendran, the designer behind Disha Jewelry in Alpharetta, Georgia, whom I met last year and instantly admired for her ability to blend ancient symbolism with contemporary design.
And then, unexpectedly, came a moment that took me further back — not to my own life, but to a cinematic memory. As Janhvi’s character performed Mohiniyattam, the classical Indian dance form from Kerala that embodies feminine grace through fluid, circular movements and expressive gestures drawn from Vishnu mythology, I was reminded of the Sleeping Vishnu temple ceremony from “Life of Pi.” The way the camera lingered on the recumbent deity, surrounded by water, floating diyas, petals and dreamlike devotion — though that sequence was filmed at a temple near Pondicherry, not in Kerala — had once moved me deeply. It captured a sense of divine stillness, of surrender, of faith folded into beauty.
I realized that’s what the film was missing: that quiet, wordless transcendence that art sometimes achieves when it dares to feel rather than perform.
“Param Sundari” may not succeed as a love story, but it inadvertently celebrates Kerala’s beauty and artistic heritage. For me, that was reason enough to watch till the end.
With one foot in Huntsville, Alabama, the other in her birth home, India, and a heart steeped in humanity, Monita Soni writes as a contemplative practice. She has published hundreds of poems, movie reviews, book critiques, and essays, and contributed to combined literary works. Her two books are My Light Reflections and Flow Through My Heart. You can hear her commentaries on Sundial Writers Corner, WLRH 89.3 FM.