First-Day-First-Show take on Pakistani star Fawad Khan and Indian actress Vaani Kapoor’s frothy romance

Dubai: One of my biggest pet peeves with relationship comedies? When directors chicken out and tie everything up with a safe, mushy ending. It’s cinematic cowardice, plain and simple. Luckily, Aarti S. Bagdi doesn’t take that exit route in Aabeer Gulaal. Without spoiling anything, let’s just say she allows the messiness of love to breathe. The result is a rom-com that’s predictable in a bedtime-story kind of way, but still enjoyable enough to keep you chuckling and rooting for its leads.

We begin with Vaani Kapoor, who plays a Simran-esque daughter straight out of DDLJ—except this Simran is armed with privilege, platinum credit cards, and a healthy dose of rebellion. Her conservative father, convinced he knows best, is already blueprinting her marriage like it’s a corporate merger. Naturally, she pushes back, but not in the quietly-simmering way we’re used to. No, this girl is clumsy, impulsive, and often a walking disaster who thinks tantrums are personality traits. Spoilt? Absolutely. Entertaining? Surprisingly, yes.

Here’s where Aabeer Gulaal dials up the unintentional comedy. Once Daddy’s money pipeline runs dry, our heroine decides to “make it” in London by reinventing herself as a Bollywood dance teacher. Yes, that’s her big survival plan. Watching Vaani Kapoor float around the city in elaborate lehengas while teaching clueless Londoners how to nail a thumka is laugh-out-loud funny. It’s the kind of career pivot that only makes sense in a rom-com universe. Imagine trying to prove your independence while dressed like you’re headed to a big fat Indian wedding at Heathrow Terminal 3. The absurdity of it all is exactly what keeps the film light on its feet, even when the script threatens to wobble.

She also lands an internship at a buzzy restaurant run by Abir, played by Fawad Khan in all his dishy glory. Their first encounters are prickly—flirtatious banter with a side of irritation. Sparks fly, then fizzle, then catch fire again. Importantly, it doesn’t feel forced. Their attraction is allowed to simmer and stall, like a good reduction sauce.

Of course, she manages to royally piss him off and gets herself fired. Cue Daddy cutting her off, credit cards maxed, and our princess suddenly realizing that independence involves more than witty comebacks and a well-curated wardrobe. This stretch of the film works because it forces Vaani to stumble in ways that feel real—even if her “struggles” still come wrapped in couture. It’s Simran 2.0, but with a dad who bankrolls until he doesn’t.

Let’s address the obvious: Fawad Khan’s pearly whites deserve their own IMDb credit. They’re distracting, but in the best way. Vaani Kapoor, meanwhile, flaunts a torso so sculpted it practically steals focus. But here’s the kicker: their chemistry actually clicks. They bicker, flirt, and glare in ways that feel authentic. This isn’t syrupy, pre-packaged romance—it’s messy, a bit bratty, and oddly refreshing.

Here’s where the film falters: editing, or rather, the lack of it. Aabeer Gulaal is bloated, padded with unnecessary segues that drag the runtime. Lisa Haydon’s cameo is the biggest offender—it adds nothing, apart from reminding us that Bollywood can’t resist shoehorning in familiar faces. A tighter cut would have sharpened the storytelling and saved us from mid-movie fidgeting.

But oh, those final 15 minutes. Bagdi saves her boldest moves for the end, and it pays off. Without spilling spoilers, the climax doesn’t fold into an easy, rom-com cliché. It takes a risk, embraces imperfection, and delivers a finale that lingers. Add to that an extended cameo from an actor who nearly steals the entire show—you’ll know who I mean when you see it. It’s the kind of scene that makes you forget the film’s indulgent middle act. Visually, Aabeer Gulaal is glossy, almost Instagram-filtered. London is shot like a lifestyle ad—gleaming streets, designer coffee shops, and food porn that looks too perfect to eat. The soundtrack is peppy, though a couple of numbers feel shoehorned in just to let Vaani dance around in sequins. Not that anyone’s complaining, but it does dilute the narrative pace.

Aabeer Gulaal isn’t reinventing the rom-com wheel, but it doesn’t need to. It leans into familiar beats while adding just enough sass and cultural dissonance to keep things interesting. Watching a spoiled and slightly annoying heroine strut around London in lehengas while sparring with a brooding restaurateur is equal parts silly and swoony. It’s not perfect—the bloat drags it down—but the performances, chemistry, and gutsy finale rescue it from mediocrity.

Verdict: A predictable yet enjoyable rom-com that serves up love medium rare, with a dash of sass and a whole lot of sparkle.

⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3 out of 5)