‘Cocktail 2’ review: Glossy sequel repeats old misogynistic tropes, pitting women against each other

Dubai: When I watched director Homi Adajania's Cocktail back in 2012, I remember walking out with mixed feelings. It was glossy, entertaining and undeniably stylish, but underneath all the partying, heartbreak and London chic was a love triangle that never quite sat right with me.

There was Veronica, played with such infectious spirit by Deepika Padukone, who breezed through the film like a human hurricane in stilettos. She was messy, flawed, free-spirited and fiercely loyal. Yet somehow, she was the one who ended up paying the emotional price while the "good girl" got the confused guy.

Part of me hoped Cocktail 2 would revisit that dynamic and offer a more evolved take on love, friendship and female agency. Instead, it appears to double down on the very trope that made the original so frustrating.

Interestingly, the first film was written by Imtiaz Ali, whose characters—men and women alike—are often allowed messy, contradictory shades of grey. This unrelated sequel, however, comes from Luv Ranjan, a filmmaker frequently criticised for stories that tend to sympathise with male perspectives while reducing women to archetypes. That creative shift may explain why Cocktail 2 feels less interested in nuance and more invested in familiar gender dynamics.

This time, the triangle consists of Kunal (Shahid Kapoor), Diya (Rashmika Mandanna) and Ally (Kriti Sanon). Diya is the sweet, vanilla, girl-next-door type whose very name means "light".

Ally is the bohemian wild child — glamorous, seductive, unpredictable and impossible to ignore. Kunal, meanwhile, is positioned as the ultimate green flag: dependable, loving, emotionally available and so aggressively wholesome that he practically comes with a quality assurance certificate.

The problem? The film never quite explains why these women are willing to risk friendship, emotional stability and common sense over him.

He's so sensible, sane and sorted that he borders on dependable to a fault. While that may make him ideal boyfriend material on paper, it doesn't necessarily make him compelling enough to spark the kind of all-consuming emotional tug-of-war the film expects us to buy into. At times, he feels less like an irresistible romantic lead and more like the guy your parents would enthusiastically approve of.

Unlike Veronica in the original, who had a magnetic, messy charm that lit up every scene, Ally is given style but not nearly enough substance. The screenplay seems far more interested in dressing or rather, undressing her, than understanding her.

For much of the film, Ally appears to exist in a rotating collection of bikinis, crop tops and body-hugging ensembles. At one point, I genuinely started wondering whether Sicily had imposed a tax on full-length clothing. The camera certainly can't seem to look away. Shot almost entirely through the male gaze, Ally is framed as an object of desire first and a character second.

Yet Kriti Sanon somehow rises above these limitations. Possessing the kind of long, lithe, perpetually sun-kissed and suspiciously well-oiled physique that fitness influencers would happily sell their souls for, she is undeniably stunning. More importantly, she brings warmth, emotional vulnerability and a playful spark to a character who could easily have been reduced to eye candy.

Even when she's saddled with some of the film's cheekier one-liners, she delivers them with a teasing confidence that makes her impossible to ignore. If Cocktail 2 has a secret weapon, it's Kriti Sanon.

The story itself, however, is built on a premise that is difficult to buy into.

After reconnecting with her college friend and roommate in Sicily after a decade apart, Diya persuades Ally to seduce her boyfriend to test his loyalty. Yes, really. Because apparently therapy, communication and basic adult conversation were all fully booked that week.

What follows is less a nuanced exploration of friendship and trust than an exhausting exercise in pitting women against each other. Instead of examining insecurity, intimacy or emotional vulnerability within a relationship, the film turns female friendship into a competitive sport.

That's where Cocktail 2 loses me.

Once again, the women are painted in broad strokes. One is the "good" girl. One is the "bad" girl. One is safe. One is dangerous. One is wife material. One is temptation.

And once again, the man gets the best deal.

Kunal is afforded complexity, sympathy and moral flexibility, yet the film is strangely reluctant to let him be genuinely flawed. Even when he wanders into murky emotional territory, the screenplay bends over backwards to reassure us that he remains a fundamentally decent, almost impossibly principled man.

Every potentially messy moment is softened, explained away or wrapped in a convenient disclaimer.

Take the film's lingering ambiguity over what exactly happened during the Sicily trip. Did the boyfriend and his partner's bestie cross a line? Did he slip, however briefly, from the pedestal on which the film places him? Rather than sitting with that uncertainty and allowing Kunal to be human, the narrative rushes to preserve his saintly image. By the time he delivers his climactic speech, he feels less like a flesh-and-blood character and more like a public relations campaign for male virtue.

Ironically, that does a disservice to him as much as it does to the women. Nobody is allowed to be messy. Nobody is allowed to be contradictory. The women are trapped inside stereotypes, while Kunal is trapped inside perfection. The result is a film populated by attractive people making dramatic choices that rarely feel emotionally authentic.

That isn't to say the film doesn't have its pleasures. The Sicilian backdrop is gorgeous, the music works and Kriti Sanon delivers a performance that frequently rises above the screenplay. Shahid Kapoor brings conviction to Kunal, while Rashmika Mandanna lends warmth to Diya, even if the character remains frustratingly underwritten.

The film also repeatedly mistakes chaos for comedy. Several emotionally charged confrontations are interrupted by broad physical gags that land with a thud. Watching two women chase, wrestle and squabble over the same man might have passed for humour in another era.

Today, it mostly feels exhausting. If you're going to make two women fight over a man, at least give them someone worth fighting over.

By the time the credits rolled, I couldn't shake the feeling that Cocktail 2 had squandered a genuinely interesting opportunity. The original film may have been flawed, but it at least sparked debate about love, friendship and the kinds of women Bollywood chooses to reward. This sequel simply dusts off the same old formula and gives it a Sicilian makeover.

For all its postcard-perfect locations, beautiful people and sun-drenched glamour, Cocktail 2 feels oddly stuck in the past. It wants to be a modern relationship drama, but its ideas about gender, desire and female friendship belong to another era. And that's perhaps its biggest disappointment.