What’s the difference between French and Sanskrit? Both are languages, of course – one widely spoken across Europe and former colonies, the other a classical root of many Indian languages. But in today’s India, they carry very different perceptions. French, with its smooth intonations and fashion-label-like sound, is seen as aspirational. It’s the kind of language that could inexplicably make its speaker more dateable, thanks to our deeply embedded bias for the West. Sanskrit – the language equivalent of a dhoti-kurta – is outdated in an urban context. A teenager speaking it might instantly be labelled uncool, unless, of course, you’re in posh circles where Indian exotica could be a thing. In Vivek Soni’s Netflix original Aap Jaisa Koi, Fatima Sana Shaikh is “French,” and R. Madhavan is “Sanskrit.” They’re language teachers, but also musicians: she plays the piano, he strums the sitar. The setup hints at an expected jugalbandi between two seemingly mismatched people who are set to marry.
Aap Jaisa Koi is as standard as a film in this genre can get. The template is borrowed from the Hollywood comedy classic The 40-Year-Old Virgin, but without the humour and focus on its leading man, Shrirenu (Madhavan). Enter Madhu (Shaikh), a beautiful woman in her early 30s. Naturally, our man and his best friend (Namit Das) are suspicious. Why isn’t she married? Shrirenu, approaching the wrong side of 40, is still a virgin, lives with his family, and blames a school-days curse, or perhaps just the mismatch of being a Sanskrit-speaking man in the age of Tinder.
It’s hard to reconcile this version of Madhavan with the heartthrob he once was. Objectively, the character is fit, cheerful, and eligible. But the film insists he’s undesirable, and we’re asked to go along with it.
Madhu, for her part, is French in spirit and Bengali by heritage. That translates to flowing saris, heels, makeup, and strong feminist ideals. She also harbours a secret that ties back to Shrirenu, forming the crux of the film’s conflict. Through the couple, an ex-boyfriend (Karan Wahi), and their families, Aap Jaisa Koi critiques patriarchy while guiding its awkward male lead toward growth.
Soni’s film is easy to watch. You’ll know exactly where it’s going. You might even predict the lines. But this familiarity doesn’t irritate; it’s gentle, maybe even comforting, especially when you’re watching at home and can pause it at will. There’s not much to reflect on, except how the dynamics of relationships are slowly evolving – even within traditional households. At one point, I half-expected a younger female character to come out as queer, simply because many films today tick boxes without intent. Thankfully, Aap Jaisa Koi avoids that trap.
The film opens with Shrirenu being mocked by students (especially one), but that thread is quickly dropped. The Indian Coffee House gets its moment as the couple’s meeting spot. Their dates are over tea, not coffee (which is the outlet’s USP). The Kolkata shown here is postcard-pretty and retro. There’s even a major scene set in a library. This isn’t a period piece, but I don’t remember the last time I saw a library (or a chatty librarian) in a mainstream film.
The styling for actresses (clothes, gajras, jewellery) seems curated enough to double as an ad shoot for Tanishq, Pothy’s, or Everest Masala. I enjoyed this visual richness, though without it, Aap Jaisa Koi doesn’t have much to offer.
The conflict resolves itself rather conveniently. The leads don’t actively work through their issues. Instead, a subplot involving supporting characters pushes the story toward closure. It’s a bit underwhelming to watch Shrirenu stand by passively while his relatives deliver the final twist that propels the climax. Still, the staging of the finale is effective: rain, Howrah Bridge, high drama. Small budget or not, this is clearly from the Dharma Productions school of cinema, where the iconic characters used to frequent the Brooklyn Bridge only to cry their hearts out.
Fortunately for the film, Madhavan and Fatima share a natural rapport. Their performances feel grounded and convincing. Ayesha Raza, Manish Chaudhary, and Shubhronil Chatterjee also shine in pivotal parts, while Namit Das is underused as the loyal best friend. The niece’s presence in the story shows promise, but she ends up as a minor catalyst.
Like bhabhi’s (Raza) assorted pickle jars, Aap Jaisa Koi is like any other rom-com, especially those from the Dharma fold. It’s stylishly dressed (reminiscent of Soni’s underwhelming Meenakshi Sundareshwar), and its central conflict is rather lightweight in today’s times. What elevates the film slightly is its soundtrack, especially the songs by Justin Prabhakaran. The songs move the story forward rather than simply giving the industry a few chartbusters.
By the time it ends, Aap Jaisa Koi delivers harmless entertainment. It touches on a few issues, beautifies its characters and their surroundings, and the music is pleasant. I also enjoyed the animated end credits – very beautifully conceived. Sometimes, this is all you need for a breezy weekend watch.
Rating: ★★★
Aap Jaisa Koi is now streaming on Netflix.
