“The Royals” opens with a sun‑drenched beach in Sri Lanka, where Sophia Kanmani Shekhar’s morning run collides with a polo‑playing prince. This playful romp signals the series’ core: a modern Indian royal family grappling with ancient titles and twenty‑first‑century pressures. Sophia, a self‑made CEO with an ambitious “Royal B&B” venture, embodies India’s booming start‑up culture, while Aviraaj Singh must reconcile his inherited crown with mounting debts.
Across exotic backdrops—from sleek Mumbai boardrooms to the timeworn halls of Motibagh Palace—the show fuses light romance and dynastic drama. The creators, Rangita and Ishita Pritish Nandy, enlist Neha Veena Sharma’s scripts to explore how lineage and enterprise can clash or converge. Directors Nupur Asthana and Priyanka Ghose frame each scene with a keen eye for symbolism: the palace’s crumbling walls mirror a monarchy’s fading influence, and Sophia’s crisp power suits contrast with the royal family’s heirloom silks.
For global audiences, this series resonates with themes of tradition versus innovation—a motif seen in recent international hits—while remaining rooted in India’s cinematic heritage of colorful pageantry and spirited dialogue. The ensuing chemistry and high‑stakes business gambit promise a fresh spin on royal romance.
Tides of Tradition: The Royals’ Narrative Flow
The series kicks off with a classic rom‑com twist: Sophia Shekhar’s dawn run on a Sri Lanka beach collides spectacularly with a shirtless Prince Aviraaj Singh on horseback. This meet‑cute immediately sets the tone—playful yet poised—while introducing Sophia’s pitch for a “Royal B&B,” a venture promising palace stays and insider access.
A sudden will‑reading scene pivots the story into high stakes: Aviraaj inherits the title but discovers his family fortune is diverted to an unknown beneficiary. With palace debts looming, Sophia’s board grants her six months to launch the B&B or watch Motibagh Palace crumble. This ticking‑clock device echoes global series that harness time pressure—think of European thrillers that tie personal quests to strict deadlines—yet here it’s woven into India’s grand archival architecture.
Across eight episodes, the first three build on flirtation and family dynamics: Sophia negotiates with skeptical royals, while Aviraaj clashes with a grief‑stricken mother and a free‑spirited grandmother. Midseason pivots inject fresh momentum—investor reluctance, a mysterious “Maurice,” and a sibling cooking‑contest subplot that nods to worldwide reality‑TV mania. An LGBTQ storyline offers cultural authenticity, thoughtfully sketching Divyaranjini’s quiet search for acceptance within tradition‑bound corridors.
Pacing remains nimble, alternating standalone romantic interludes—Sophia and Aviraaj’s rooftop escape, their power‑dressing duel—with the broader quest to save the palace. A cameo by Aviraaj’s ex, Ayesha, stirs past wounds, while a live‑streamed gala functions as both public showcase and personal test.
Key turning points land with precision: the will’s hidden clause, the lovers’ first heated fallout over trust, and a cliffhanger hinting that the elusive beneficiary may hold the real key to Morpur’s future. By echoing world‑cinema’s blend of intimate character work and structural urgency, “The Royals” delivers a narrative engine that feels both familiar and distinctly Indian.
Regal Personas: A Study in Character and Performance
Bhumi Pednekar’s Sophia Shekhar blends boardroom bravado with unexpected tenderness. In early episodes she sports simple running gear—airy fabrics and a practical ponytail—captured in wide shots that emphasize freedom and drive. As palace intrigue intensifies, her wardrobe shifts to sharply tailored suits and jewel‑toned saris, each costume change marking a layer peeled back on her vulnerability. Pednekar’s timing in rapid‑fire exchanges with investors recalls Bollywood’s parallel‑cinema heroines, who could match their male counterparts in wit and grit.
Ishaan Khatter presents Aviraaj Singh as part charming rogue, part conflicted heir. His shirtless polo sequence places him in languid slow‑motion, a nod to Bollywood’s larger‑than‑life star introductions. Yet in close‑up reaction shots—eyes widening at the will reading—Khatter taps into a quieter sincerity, reflecting global TV trends that prize emotional nuance over swagger alone. Editing here underscores each beat: a quick cut from cocky laughter to furrowed brow propels our sympathy.
The royal ensemble provides tonal contrast. Sakshi Tanwar’s Padmaja delivers deadpan one‑liners, her scenes lit with soft backlight that gives regal warmth. Zeenat Aman’s Maji smokes discreetly in courtyard shadows, her laughter echoing through long takes that let her free‑spirited energy linger. Vihaan Samat as Digvijay leans into puppyish charm—quick zooms on his nervous fidgeting during a cook‑off nod to reality‑TV cliches—while Kavya Trehan’s Divyaranjini inhabits quieter frames, her gaze drifting toward private moments that speak volumes about identity and tradition.
Among supporting turns, Udit Arora’s Kunal offers a steady counterpoint to Sophia’s zeal, each of their boardroom scenes scored with pulsing synth underscores. Nora Fatehi’s Ayesha appears in furtive shots edged with high‑contrast lighting, heightening her role as catalyst. Minor characters—a salad‑obsessed aide caught in a whip‑pan, a judge in the palace’s DIY cooking contest—add texture reminiscent of ensemble dramedies worldwide.
On‑screen chemistry swings between electric sparks and stilted intimacy, the latter exposed during an early love scene framed by awkward angles. Family quarrels, shot with handheld cameras, feel immediate and authentic. Veteran actors time their comic beats with precision, keeping the series balanced between grandeur and grounded human drama.
When Boardrooms Replace Ballrooms
“The Royals” flips the classical royal‑commoner script by making the commoner—Sophia Kanmani Shekhar—a powerful CEO who courts a fading monarchy rather than the other way around. This role‑reversal speaks to modern meritocracy’s global rise, echoing international titles like Succession but filtered through Bollywood’s fascination with lineage and duty. Here, inheritance isn’t only a question of bloodline but of business acumen, inviting viewers to reconsider privilege in both palatial and corporate arenas.
The series leans on familiar rom‑com rhythms—meet‑cute chaos, misfired texts, the “will‑they‑won’t‑they” hesitation—but shifts the setting from gala balls to glass‑walled boardrooms. This subversion recalls global hits such as Crazy Rich Asians, which also juxtaposed extravagant heritage with contemporary love stories. In “The Royals,” a pitch meeting becomes as charged as a waltz, and a hostile takeover feels as personal as a courtly duel.
Family duty and personal identity clash throughout. Aviraaj’s burden to restore his family’s fortune mirrors Bollywood classics like Swades, where the hero must choose between home and self. Divyaranjini’s discreet LGBTQ subplot adds cultural authenticity, channeling the more intimate storytelling of India’s parallel‑cinema wave. Meanwhile, grandmother Maji offers generational wisdom—through soft focus close‑ups—that balances youthful ambition with lived experience.
Visually, the show alternates high‑glam spectacle—fashion shows staged like mini‑pageants—with moments of self‑aware satire, such as a tongue‑in‑cheek horse parade parody. These juxtapositions comment on monarchy’s place in twenty‑first‑century India, where titles hold nostalgic weight but yield to boardroom tactics. Gender dynamics thread through every scene: Sophia’s assertiveness challenges patriarchal expectations, while Aviraaj’s initial entitlement is tempered by his growing respect for her prowess, reflecting global conversations about leadership and equality in a changing world.
From Shoreline to Stronghold: A Cinematic Palette
The series opens on a windswept Sri Lankan beach, its soft golden light and rolling waves captured in wide, unhurried takes. This naturalistic prologue contrasts sharply with the cavernous halls of Morpur Palace, where high ceilings, ornate arches, and marble corridors feel both lived‑in and theatrical. Filmmakers blend on‑location shoots at historic forts with purpose‑built interiors, giving viewers a sense of place rooted in India’s heritage yet polished for a global audience.
Costumes and art direction emphasize this duality. Sophia’s early outfits—sleek athleisure in muted grays and blacks—echo the functional minimalism of Western business dramas, while her later power suits gain jewel‑tone accents to reflect palace opulence. The royal family’s attire ranges from hand‑embroidered sherwanis to flowing silks in palace golds and pastels. Each wardrobe choice signals character shifts: a transition from boardroom pragmatism to ceremonial display.
Cinematographer Sameer Thahir frames romance with a mix of aerial sweeps and intimate close‑ups. Drone shots glide over palace gardens like a High‑Definition travelogue, while tracking sequences follow Sophia and Aviraaj through candlelit banquets. During their quieter scenes, tight two‑shots and shallow focus draw attention to flickering gazes, a technique familiar to both Bollywood melodramas and art‑house romances.
The scale of production is ambitious. Grand ballrooms, polo ponies, and a fleet of luxury cars provide spectacle worthy of prestige TV, yet occasional inconsistencies—slightly misaligned set dressings or momentary lighting shifts—remind us of the challenges in marrying extravagance with logistical tightness. Still, horses galloping across palace courtyards and a star‑studded guest list in gala sequences feel undeniably lavish.
Editing underpins the show’s rhythm, alternating playful romantic montages—complete with pulsing music and quick cuts—with longer exposition scenes where dialogue and reaction hold focus. Business presentations morph into time‑lapse builds, reflecting Sophia’s entrepreneurial drive, while seamless cross‑cutting links boardroom tension to palace rivalry. The result is a visual tempo that mirrors each character’s urgency without ever feeling rushed.
Orchestrating Opulence: Music, Sound Design, and Directorial Flourish
Auroshikha Dey’s score layers sitar strains and tabla rhythms beneath synth pulses, weaving classical Indian motifs into modern pop textures. This duality surfaces during the palace fashion showcase, where a traditional raga undercurrent blends seamlessly with an electronic beat drop, echoing Bollywood’s long history of marrying melody with mass appeal while nodding to global soundtrack trends in series like Bridgerton.
Sound designer Rakesh Ranjan balances the echo of marble corridors against Mumbai’s street hum. In one sequence, Sophia strides through a marble hall; her footsteps reverberate before distant car horns creep in, reminding viewers of her urban roots. Later, a polo match pivots on layered hooves, galloping drums, and cheering crowds, heightening tension without dialogue.
Directors Nupur Asthana and Priyanka Ghose favor gleaming tableaux over muted realism. Their blocking of large‑scale scenes—hundreds of extras in a ceremonial courtyard—recalls South Korean productions’ meticulous group choreography, yet punctuated with comic timing: a sudden whip‑pan to Sophia’s startled glance underlines an unexpected joke.
Scene-to-scene, music accentuates emotional shifts. A hushed string theme swells as Aviraaj confronts his grandmother’s secret, while a celebratory brass fanfare underscores a successful boardroom pitch. These choices sharpen drama or undercut it playfully, ensuring that each sonic cue serves narrative purpose rather than mere ornamentation.
Parting Reflections and Viewing Guide
“The Royals” delivers escapist glamour anchored by strong veteran turns and lush design, even as its pacing sometimes falters and some subplots feel undercooked. Bhumi Pednekar and Ishaan Khatter shine in key moments, while Zeenat Aman’s Maji remains the series’ heartbeat.
Occasional narrative drifting and uneven chemistry may pull viewers from its central romance. Ideal for audiences craving high‑gloss palace intrigue blended with light‑hearted banter and cultural flair, this Netflix India original works best as a weekend binge. Those seeking deeper emotional arcs might find its sparkle outweighs its substance, yet its visual feast offers undeniable entertainment.
Full Credits
Directors: Priyanka Ghose, Nupur Asthana
Writer: Neha Veena Sharma
Producers: Pritish Nandy
Executive Producers: Rangita Pritish Nandy, Ishita Pritish Nandy
Cast: Bhumi Pednekar, Ishaan Khatter, Sakshi Tanwar, Zeenat Aman, Nora Fatehi, Vihaan Samat, Dino Morea, Milind Soman, Chunky Panday, Lisa Mishra, Sumukhi Suresh, Luke Kenny, Kavya Trehan, Udit Arora, Adinath Kothare, Alyy Khan, Shweta Salve, Yashaswini Dayama
Director of Photography: Information not specified
Editor: Information not specified
Composer: Information not specified
The Review
The Royals Season 1
The Royals dazzles with its mix of palace spectacle and corporate intrigue, buoyed by veteran performances and sleek production design, even as uneven pacing and sidelined subplots keep it from reaching full depth. It suits viewers craving a stylish, escapist rom‑com with cultural flair.
PROS
- Strong veteran performances (Zeenat Aman, Sakshi Tanwar)
- Lavish production design and exotic locations
- Engaging premise blending royal intrigue with startup drama
- Authentic subplots (LGBTQ thread, generational wisdom)
- High‑gloss visual style with dynamic cinematography
CONS
- Uneven pacing across eight episodes
- Several underdeveloped subplots
- Lead chemistry falters in key scenes
- Occasional narrative drifting
- Reliance on familiar rom‑com tropes