It is amusing to observe that Bollywood filmmakers seem to inhabit their own male multiverses. In Yash Chopra’s world, men serenade women with flowers and sweet nothings. For Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s men, romance is best expressed through anger issues and abuse. Imtiaz Ali populates his stories with man-children who require an older person to explain the meaning of love. Sooraj Barjatya’s men barely speak, whispering as though struggling to swallow the sanskari pill he personally concocted for them. And then there is Luv Ranjan, whose men are perpetual sufferers and whose women exist solely to ruin their peace.
To nobody’s surprise, Cocktail 2, written by Ranjan and Tarun Jain and directed by Homi Adajania, follows a similar template. The result is a story where the man is positioned as a beacon of decency (naturally) and the women, though not quite the man-eaters one of them is repeatedly labelled as, have morals questionable enough to ensure the battle lines remain firmly drawn.
Enter Kunal (Shahid Kapoor), a low-key, saintly chef who functions as the film’s designated martyr. Making his life difficult are two demanding women in their own highly inventive ways. One is Diya (Rashmika Mandanna), his partner of 16 years, and then there is Ally (Kriti Sanon) – the firebrand they meet in Sicily over a vacation.
Now, let’s get to the film’s central issue. Kunal and Diya are a happy couple, living together for ages, and they do not wish to get married. Like many women, Diya loves attending weddings and Kunal, as the cis-men stereotype goes, doesn’t enjoy it. They have the house, the friends, and precisely the kind of enviable life everyone else is desperately trying to build. The only things missing in this arrangement are a pet and a mangal sutra. There is something that prevents their nuptials. What is that?
In pure, commitment-phobic lingo, Cocktail 2 tells us that he doesn’t believe in ceremonializing a good relationship. He is a man who would never actively pursue marriage, but would probably say yes if his partner wanted it. And this is where Homi Adajania, along with Bollywood’s deeply conditioned ideas of romance, arrives at the golden question: why exactly does he not want it? Is he not in love?
The first 15 minutes of Cocktail 2 are spent establishing Kunal’s questionable ways. He cheekily flirts with a difficult guest at his restaurant. Later, he makes a controversial statement about cheating, one that understandably unsettles Diya. At this point, both us and the woman have every reason to question his loyalty.
To celebrate a patch-up after a fight over it, the couple flies to Sicily where they meet Ally. In no time, Cocktail 2 sells us a picture-perfect travel trio soaking in luscious Mediterranean landscapes. That’s when Diya suddenly drops a bizarre proposition on Ally: seduce my boyfriend and let me see if he is capable of staying loyal.
For a minute there, I was actually on board. But then the obvious question hits me: what exactly happens if he fails? What is the backup plan here? After all, this is Bollywood, where love apparently stops being love unless accompanied by grand gestures and an endless demand for validation. I briefly wondered if Diya was planning to go the Ek Hi Bhool or Haan… Maine Bhi Pyaar Kiya Hai route, create a dramatic scene, and storm out. Never mind the fact that Kunal is expected to behave like a man completely immune to basic hormonal impulses while the stunning Ally casually traipses around him, alone, across intimate locales.
Homi Adajania’s character universe here is nowhere as open-ended as it was in Cocktail, where Veronica ultimately came across as a woman saddened by both her date (Saif Ali Khan) and her best friend (Diana Penty). Here, the women are the ones orchestrating dangerous emotional games, and whether that leaves a lasting scar on Kunal becomes the film’s primary twist.
The film’s biggest triumph lies elsewhere. One thing Cocktail 2 absolutely gets right is bringing back a kind of Bollywood film we hardly see anymore. It took me straight back to the 2000s, when three ridiculously attractive rich people could holiday in an exotic foreign location without worrying about office calls, EMIs, or any reminder that life exists beyond the frame. Santhana Krishnan Ravichandran’s visuals are so lush that half the job of selling the film is already done. The styling works, Pritam’s songs are mesmerizing, and the sets (Costanza Gelardi) are stunning.
Its breezy energy aside, there is a curious emotional emptiness running through Cocktail 2. Despite all the drama, we remain oddly indifferent to its people. It does not matter if Kunal loves either woman, if Ally’s fake seduction has turned into real feelings, or what exactly is going on with Diya, who randomly decides to test a perfectly functional relationship. We are basically watching a bunch of grown adults make terrible emotional decisions and quietly waiting for the inevitable trainwreck. “I don’t take rejection well,” Ally tells Diya and somehow, we seem far more worried about her mental health than what she might do to the committed girlfriend standing right there.
The second half, much like Teri Baaton Mein Aisa Uljha Jiya, the last Shahid Kapoor-Kriti Sanon hit, conveniently transports us into wedding preparations. Ally is now the bridesmaid, confused emotions are flying around, and like any faithful 2000s rom-com recreation, parental interference is kept to a minimum, barring a few bizarre nuggets of wisdom from Kunal’s father, played by an adorable Tiku Talsania. With a big fat wedding and serious revelations waiting to implode, the film remains just suspenseful enough. If you care enough, that is.
What follows is a largely sensible climax where our leading man, who until this point has displayed little agency, suddenly discovers a spine and delivers a speech on modern relationships. It still never quite explains why this man refused to propose to his girlfriend in the first place, but by then, I had largely surrendered to the film’s logic.
Perhaps a victim of the same confusion, Shahid Kapoor spends most of his time looking bored or being boring. The man is saved only when a song arrives to remind us that fun is still allowed. The actor does his best to inject life into some scenes, and his charm works. But that is largely because of our goodwill toward him as a performer, not because of Kunal, who remains painfully underwritten.
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Rashmika Mandanna, meanwhile, is excellent as Diya. In fact, her absence is felt during the long stretch where the film pushes her to the sidelines. And seriously, what exactly is the obsession with critiquing her Hindi accent? Hindi can be spoken in a hundred different ways. Let us not suddenly become linguistic purists in a nation that happily embraced the legendary Sridevi throughout her career.
Then comes Kriti Sanon, undoubtedly the film’s liveliest element. Ally initially feels heavily indebted to Deepika Padukone’s Veronica (Cocktail), but thankfully, Sanon quickly takes control and turns the character into something entirely her own. She seems to have a blast pouring oomph and mischief into a character that is saucy and morally grey.
Cocktail 2 largely delivers what it promises. Its success lies less in whatever grand thesis it has about modern relationships and more in the fact that it simply exists in a Bollywood ecosystem that has saturated itself with every genre except the rom-com.
And somewhere along the way, it also made me rethink my own ideas of love, ideas conveniently shaped by the Hindi film romances I have spent years consuming. Is it really okay to be in a long-term relationship and still not know your partner’s favourite colour? Or the food they love most? Especially if you live together, do these things simply get assumed, or do they never come up at all? These feel like the sort of questions teenagers ask each other while filling slam books, yet I found myself oddly invested in where the film was going with them.
For every man who forgets anniversaries, hates grand gestures, and would much rather prefer a quiet court wedding over a multi-crore spectacle live-streamed on social media, Cocktail 2 serves as a reminder of the tiny sacrifices expected of them in the name of love. The story eventually turns into yet another battle of the sexes, and whether it works depends entirely on how much you buy into the men populating Luv Ranjan’s universe.
I do, to an extent. So for me, Cocktail 2, with its glamorous people, postcard-perfect locations, and enough alcohol to cloud everybody’s judgement, feels like the kind of glossy Bollywood entertainer Hindi cinema somehow forgot how to make along the way.
VERDICT: ★★★
Read the reviews of Cocktail 2 by the Film Critics Guild HERE.
