Shehzada is a cinematic misadventure that proves not every remake deserves a redo. A Hindi adaptation of the Telugu hit Ala Vaikunthapurramuloo (2020), this Kartik Aaryan vehicle tries to coast on star power and masala tropes but ends up a tiresome slog that insults both its audience and its source material. The plot—a creaky tale of babies swapped at birth—follows Bantu (Kartik Aaryan), a scrappy everyman who discovers he’s the true heir to the wealthy Jindal family, only to spend the next two-plus hours proving it through a barrage of noise and nonsense. It’s a premise so dated it feels like it stumbled out of a 90s time capsule, and the execution does nothing to justify its resurrection.

Kartik Aaryan, Bollywood’s self-proclaimed outsider-turned-prince, is the film’s beating heart—or rather, its overacting pulse. He struts, smirks, and monologues his way through, but his Bantu lacks the effortless charm Allu Arjun brought to the original. Kartik’s trying too hard—every slo-mo walk and punch feels like an audition for a bigger league he hasn’t earned yet. His energy is relentless but hollow, a performance that screams “look at me” without giving us much to care about. Kriti Sanon, as his love interest Samara, is reduced to a glorified prop—stunning to look at, sure, but with all the depth of a cardboard cutout. Her role fizzles out by the second half, leaving you wondering why she bothered showing up.

The supporting cast is a graveyard of squandered potential. Paresh Rawal, as the scheming Valmiki, hams it up in a way that’s more grating than funny, stuck in a one-note villain mode that’s beneath his talent. Manisha Koirala and Ronit Roy, playing the Jindal parents, are the only ones who escape with some dignity, but even they’re shackled by a script that doesn’t know what to do with them. The villains—Sunny Hinduja’s Sarang and his goons—are laughably inept, demanding crores in ransom while forgetting to pack a single gun. It’s incompetence dressed up as menace, and it’s emblematic of the film’s broader laziness.

Rohit Dhawan’s direction is a masterclass in missing the mark. The screenplay, adapted from Trivikram Srinivas’ original, is a patchwork of half-baked ideas—family drama, action, romance—stitched together with all the grace of a Frankenstein monster. The pacing is atrocious; the first half drags with pointless detours (Bantu saving his sister, Bantu flirting with Samara), while the second half drowns in melodrama and overlong fights. At 142 minutes, it’s a punishing sit, bloated with filler that adds nothing but runtime. The action sequences, hyped as a selling point, are a blurry mess—shoddy CGI and choppy editing make them more comical than thrilling. A mansion with no driveway and security so lax a toddler could breach it? This isn’t a movie; it’s a cartoon with a budget.

Pritam’s music is another letdown. Where Ala Vaikunthapurramuloo had chartbusters, Shehzada offers forgettable tunes like “Munda Sona Hoon Main” that vanish from memory the second they end. The visuals are glossy but soulless, with Sudeep Chatterjee’s cinematography aping the original’s angles without an ounce of creativity. And the script’s undertone—rich genes good, poor genes bad—feels tone-deaf and regressive, a relic of Bollywood’s worst instincts.

Shehzada is a film that mistakes volume for value, banking on Kartik’s fanbase to overlook its glaring flaws. It’s a lazy cash grab that doesn’t respect its audience’s time or intelligence, delivering a stale story with none of the spark that made the Telugu version a hit. I’d give it 1.5 out of 5 stars—and that’s generous. It’s not just a bad remake; it’s a bad movie, period. Save your money and watch the original—or better yet, watch nothing at all.