The Archies, released on Netflix on December 7, 2023, is less a film and more a glaring symptom of Bollywood’s terminal nepotism disease—a bloated, lifeless relic that showcases how family ties can strangle talent and originality. Directed by Zoya Akhtar, this adaptation of the iconic Archie Comics tries to transplant the peppy Riverdale gang into a 1960s Anglo-Indian hill station, but what emerges is a soulless vanity project that prioritizes launching privileged star kids over delivering anything resembling entertainment. With Agastya Nanda, Suhana Khan, and Khushi Kapoor at the helm—all scions of Bollywood royalty—the film is a textbook case of how nepotism is choking the industry, drowning out merit in favor of pedigreed mediocrity.

Let’s start with the performances, or rather, the lack thereof. Agastya Nanda, grandson of Amitabh Bachchan, plays Archie Andrews with all the charisma of a wooden plank. His delivery is flat, his expressions vacant, and his presence so muted you’d think he wandered onto set by accident. It’s not inexperience—it’s a fundamental absence of screen command, the kind that can’t be excused by a debut tag. Suhana Khan, daughter of Shah Rukh Khan, fares no better as Veronica Lodge. Her attempt at playing the sassy heiress is a cringe-inducing caricature—every line fumbles out with awkward pauses, her accent a jarring mishmash that screams private-school privilege rather than polished craft. Then there’s Khushi Kapoor, offspring of Sridevi and Boney Kapoor, as Betty Cooper. She’s stiff and unconvincing, her sad-eyed stares meant to evoke depth but landing as blank confusion. These three aren’t just green—they’re outright talentless, propped up by their surnames in roles that demand far more than they’re capable of giving.

The nepotism stench doesn’t stop with the leads. Zoya Akhtar herself, daughter of Javed Akhtar and sister to Farhan, helms this debacle, proving the rot runs deep. The film reeks of an insider clique cashing in on a beloved IP to give their kids a cushy launchpad, while countless struggling actors with actual skill languish in the shadows. It’s galling to think that auditions—if they even happened—settled on this trio when India’s theater scene brims with untapped potential. The result? A musical comedy that’s neither musical nor funny, its 141-minute runtime a slog of half-baked songs and stilted dialogue that feels like a school play gone wrong. Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s soundtrack tries to inject life, but the lackluster choreography and the leads’ inability to sell it turn numbers like “Va Va Voom” into awkward, joyless spectacles.

The plot—a flimsy tale of Archie and friends saving Green Park from a greedy developer (Alyy Khan)—is as shallow as the performances. It’s a pretense for feel-good nostalgia and hollow activism, but the script, co-written by Akhtar, Reema Kagti, and Ayesha Devitre Dhillon, lacks the wit or edge to make it stick. The 1960s setting is all surface-level gloss—retro bikes, pastel frocks, vinyl records—but there’s no soul beneath the production design. Compare this to Akhtar’s past works like Gully Boy, which pulsed with raw energy, and the drop-off is stark. Here, she’s coasting on her name, delivering a film that’s less about art and more about keeping the family business afloat.

Nepotism’s toll on Bollywood is laid bare in The Archies. It’s not just that these star kids can’t act—it’s that their presence chokes the industry’s lifeblood. Every frame feels like a plea for acceptance, a calculated move to cement their careers at the expense of quality. The supporting cast—Vedang Raina as Reggie, Mihir Ahuja as Jughead, Aditi “Dot” Saigal as Ethel—shows flickers of promise, but they’re overshadowed by the leads’ glaring inadequacy. Why bother nurturing fresh talent when you can bank on a Bachchan, a Khan, or a Kapoor to draw eyeballs, regardless of merit? The answer is a decaying Bollywood, where innovation is sacrificed for dynastic preservation.

The Archies is a grim 2 out of 5 stars—a tedious, nepotism-fueled misfire that’s as forgettable as it is infuriating. It’s not just a bad movie; it’s a warning sign of an industry eating itself alive, where lineage trumps talent and audiences are left with the scraps. If this is the future of Bollywood, it’s one worth abandoning. Save your time and skip this star-kid showcase—it’s a relic of everything wrong with the Hindi film world in 2023.