A Nice Indian Boy (2025) : A Love Letter to Family, Identity, and Bollywood Magic.

 

Some films don’t just entertain you. They reach in, give your heart a little squeeze, and remind you why you love movies in the first place. A Nice Indian Boy is one of those rare gems. It’s the kind of film that makes you laugh until your cheeks hurt, gets you misty-eyed when you least expect it, and leaves you walking out of the theater with the kind of grin you wish you could bottle up and save for a rainy day.

On paper, the story is simple. It is a rom-com. Boy meets boy. Sparks fly. Parents have opinions. Cultures collide. The wedding conversations happen way too fast. But what sets this film apart is how joyfully it embraces all those familiar beats while still feeling fresh, specific, and deeply personal. It isn’t just a love story. It’s a celebration of identity, family, and the sometimes ridiculous, sometimes painful, always meaningful negotiations we make when love and tradition meet.

What I loved most is that the film refuses to treat romance as either a joke or a cynical exercise. Too many modern rom-coms fall into one of those traps. A Nice Indian Boy wears its heart on its sleeve without apology. It believes in love. It believes in community. It believes that laughter and tears often arrive at the same dinner table, usually at the exact same time. And that sincerity makes it feel both timeless and incredibly relevant.

Let’s talk about the humor. This is not the kind of comedy that goes for cheap laughs or gimmicks. The humor here comes from character, culture, and those awkward family dynamics that everyone has experienced no matter where they’re from. The parents in particular get some of the funniest lines in the film. You can tell they’ve perfected the art of saying something devastatingly sharp with a perfectly sweet smile. If you’ve ever been in a family where “bless you” can sometimes sound like a dagger, you’ll know exactly what I mean.

But just when you’re rolling with laughter, the film sneaks in moments of vulnerability that hit you square in the chest. A quiet conversation in a hallway, a hesitant pause before a declaration, a moment where the weight of expectation feels just a little too heavy. These are the scenes that elevate the film beyond just another rom-com. They give the story emotional heft, reminding you that love, as joyous as it is, often comes with real risks and sacrifices.

And let’s talk about Sethi’s direction. It is so assured, so quietly confident, that you can feel his love for these characters in every frame. He gives the film a vibrant, lived-in texture, letting the cultural details breathe without ever turning them into exposition dumps. He knows when to pull back and let the performances shine, and when to lean in with just the right cinematic flourish. There’s a delicacy in how he balances humor with heartbreak, intimacy with broader family chaos. In lesser hands, this story could have veered into melodrama or sitcom territory, but here it remains truthful and beautifully balanced.

What makes all of this work is the film’s love for Bollywood. It pays tribute to the grand traditions of Indian cinema without ever slipping into parody. The sweeping music cues, the declarations of love, the sense that romance is not just about two people but about families, communities, and even cultural history itself. You feel the soul of Bollywood woven into the fabric of the movie, and yet it never feels outdated. Instead, it feels like a bridge between the old and the new, between tradition and modernity, between the love stories we grew up watching and the love stories we need today.

The performances are what seal the deal. The two leads share the kind of chemistry you can’t fake. From their first meeting, you’re rooting for them. Their glances, their pauses, their awkward stumbles into intimacy all feel wonderfully real. The actors strike that perfect balance between humor and vulnerability, never leaning too hard into either. And the supporting cast deserves just as much credit. The parents are scene-stealers, yes, but so are the friends, the extended family members, and even the smaller characters who show up for a handful of moments and leave a lasting impression.

Another thing worth celebrating is how the film embraces cultural specificity while remaining universally relatable. If you’re Indian, the details will feel like home. The food, the conversations, the subtle tensions at family gatherings, the love-hate relationship with tradition, the Bollywood references that sneak in like little Easter eggs. But even if you’re not, the themes are universal. We all know what it’s like to want love, to fear disappointing our families, to balance who we are with who others expect us to be. That’s the magic of this movie. It makes the specific feel universal and the universal feel deeply personal.

Now, does the movie reinvent the rom-com? Not really. But that isn’t the point. Sometimes we don’t need reinvention. Sometimes we just need a story told with honesty, with humor, and with heart. And that is exactly what A Nice Indian Boy delivers. It doesn’t apologize for being a rom-com. It embraces the genre and breathes new life into it by filling it with authentic characters, cultural richness, and genuine emotion.

So here’s my plea. If you love indie films, if you believe in supporting cinema that wears its heart proudly, go see A Nice Indian Boy in theaters. It is sweet, funny, emotional, and bursting with life. It reminds us that love stories still matter, that representation matters, and that the simple act of laughing and crying with strangers in a dark room is still one of the most powerful experiences we can have.

Movies like this don’t come around often. Let’s make sure the ones that do get the love they deserve.