Saiyaara movie review: Ahaan Panday’s debut is drenched in drama, guitars, and Gen-Z tears

Watching Saiyaara feels like being a kindly high school teacher grading your students’ drama project — you want to applaud the effort, you really do, but the performance? Let's just say it's more "bless them" than "bravo."

Directed by Mohit Suri, the man who gave us melodrama gold in Aashiqui 2, Saiyaara follows a familiar path of star-crossed love, tragic illness, brooding musicians, and tears that never quite reach the audience. At the heart of this pastel-hued, moodily lit film are two fresh faces — Ahaan Panday and Aneet Padda — earnest and pretty, but struggling to add depth to cardboard cutout characters.

Let’s start with Ahaan Panday. The boy’s got looks — no denying that. The camera clearly loves him. But as a tortured, cigarette-smoking, joint-toting rockstar with a troubled past and a chip on his shoulder, he’s more coltish than cool. In scenes where he’s meant to exude swagger — smashing guitars, cruising on bikes, throwing punches — Ahaan feels like a schoolboy in his dad’s leather jacket. The intensity isn’t lacking; it’s just wildly unconvincing.

Then there’s Aneet Padda as the young, virginal journalist who falls for him. She’s sweet and sincere, but her character is stuck in a time warp — always scribbling in a physical diary like she’s reporting from 1997. The idea that a modern journalist is walking around wide-eyed and jotting notes in cursive is almost charming… almost. But mostly, it’s just out of sync with the times — like the film itself.

Now, let’s address the most unintentionally ironic scene of the movie: Ahaan’s character (who’s never caught a break in life and has an alcoholic father to prove it) goes off on a bandmate for being a “nepo baby.” Excuse us? That’s Chunky Panday’s nephew, Ananya Panday’s cousin, delivering a monologue about privilege? Mohit Suri may have meant it as a meta-joke, but it clunks harder than a dropped mic. You could hear the collective eye-roll in the Dubai theatre where I watched this — and trust me, it was a full house.

The film is clearly aiming for that Fault in Our Stars energy — doomed love, tragic circumstances, soulful music. But while the aesthetic is all moody montages and teary stares, the emotional depth is paper-thin. The big vulnerable scenes — where you’re meant to clutch your chest and sob into your popcorn — just feel bland. The leads try hard, and credit to them for that, but their lack of screen presence and experience shows.

What truly pushes Saiyaara into the “nice try” category is the treatment of illness. It’s reductive, overly dramatized, and stripped of any nuance. Rather than a layered portrayal of suffering, we’re handed a plot device wrapped in soft-focus tragedy. It’s all very on-the-nose and none of it lands with real impact.

As for the music — a Mohit Suri hallmark — it’s serviceable, but nowhere near the haunting heights of Aashiqui 2 or even Ek Villain. You might find one or two tracks humming in your head later, but nothing here will haunt your playlists.

To be fair, Ahaan and Aneet aren’t the worst actors to grace a debut. They’re trying — you can see them trying. But they’re also not quite ready to carry the emotional weight of a film like Saiyaara. You can’t fake gravity, no matter how good your hair looks.

Verdict: Saiyaara is a glossy, well-meaning attempt at heartbreak cinema — but it never quite breaks through. For a film about young love, it feels oddly dated and disappointingly hollow. Ahaan and Aneet may grow into their talent, but for now, this one gets a straight-up B-minus. Watch if you’re curious. Skip if you’re not.