‘Groom & Two Brides’ (2025) Netflix Movie Review - A Chaotic Wedding Buffet You Can’t Stop Eating

Let me start by saying that Groom & Two Brides is not a movie you watch; it’s a movie that happens to you. Like a surprise party thrown by people you barely know, it’s loud, messy, occasionally awkward, but weirdly unforgettable. Directed by Anirudh Mehta (who clearly decided sleep was optional during editing), this Netflix rom-com tries to juggle love, lies, and lunacy, and, to its credit, it actually keeps most of the plates spinning. Until it doesn’t.

The story centers around Rishabh Malhotra (played by Aditya Roy Kapur, channeling his inner disaster magnet), a charming event planner who accidentally becomes the event. He’s secretly married to two women — the sophisticated art curator Diya (Sanya Malhotra) and the small-town firecracker Tara (Kriti Sanon). Don’t ask how, when, or why. The movie politely skips over legal logistics and focuses instead on the chaos that ensues when both wives end up in the same destination wedding, his best friend’s, of course, in Goa. Because where else would cinematic mayhem thrive if not under fairy lights and bad EDM?

For the first forty minutes, I laughed like I was being paid for it. The dialogue zings, the banter is sharp, and the chemistry between the leads could power an entire soap opera. The writing team clearly had a field day turning infidelity into slapstick, and it works because the tone never gets judgmental. Aditya Roy Kapur delivers one of his most likable performances yet — he’s infuriating but disarmingly honest in his panic. Kriti Sanon, as Tara, steals scenes with her comedic timing, proving she can do farce as gracefully as drama. Sanya Malhotra, on the other hand, plays Diya with subtle wit and restrained fury, giving the film its rare moments of emotional depth.

The movie shines brightest when it stops pretending to be about “love” and fully embraces its inner circus. The wedding sequences are lavish but not empty — colorful, chaotic, and meticulously choreographed. Cinematographer Avinash Arun gives the whole thing a glossy magazine spread look, with aerial shots of beaches, flower mandaps, and slow-motion dance-offs that feel both absurd and gorgeous. Even the soundtrack — a strange mix of pop, Punjabi beats, and vintage Kishore Kumar remixes — somehow lands. It’s cinematic junk food, but the expensive kind, wrapped in shiny packaging.

And then, somewhere around the halfway mark, the sugar rush fades. The script, which had been sprinting confidently, suddenly realizes it doesn’t know where it’s going. Scenes start stretching longer than Rishabh’s excuses. Emotional beats get lost in overstuffed subplots involving side characters who seem imported from other Netflix originals — a flamboyant cousin with a podcast, a priest with a gambling addiction, and an influencer who live-streams her panic attack. It’s as if the director thought, “We’re already unhinged, might as well go all in.”

When the inevitable confrontation happens — both wives discovering the truth mid-mehendi — it’s chaotic brilliance for about ten minutes. Then it turns into an emotional TED Talk on forgiveness, self-worth, and modern relationships. I could almost hear Netflix executives whispering in the background, “Make it profound.” Sadly, the tonal shift feels like a hangover after a night of too much fun.

Still, I can’t deny how much personality this movie has. It’s rare to see an Indian romantic comedy that dares to be this absurd without apologizing for it. The pacing is erratic, yes, but there’s an energy to it that makes you forgive the mess. The dialogue sparkles with millennial irreverence (“Marriage is just dating with more paperwork” might be my new favorite line), and the costume design deserves its own spin-off. Everyone looks like they walked out of a Vogue India fever dream.

As an expert viewer — meaning someone who has seen far too many rom-coms end with airport chases I respect that Groom & Two Brides tries something different. It doesn’t give us the safe moral ending; instead, it awkwardly, hilariously, and somewhat bravely embraces the ambiguity of modern love. The final act, involving a wild sangeet showdown and a painfully honest group therapy session, could have been a disaster. But it’s staged with enough absurd sincerity that you end up clapping despite yourself.

However, the movie also mistakes volume for wit in its latter half. Every joke starts screaming to be noticed. Characters who were once funny become caricatures. The emotional payoff feels rushed, like the filmmakers realized they had five minutes left before the algorithm demanded closure. And the ending — oh, the ending — tries so hard to be both progressive and crowd-pleasing that it ends up confusing everyone, including itself. Let’s just say not every triangle needs to end with a perfect geometry lesson.

By the credits, I found myself weirdly satisfied yet mildly irritated, like finishing a cake that was too sweet but too pretty to leave unfinished. Groom & Two Brides is that friend who’s exhausting but impossible not to love. It’s a film that knows it’s ridiculous and leans into it with full sincerity. Yes, it fumbles, yes, it overstays its welcome, but it also gives us moments of genuine hilarity, charm, and heart. In short, it’s a delightful mess — a romantic comedy with commitment issues, a wedding where everything goes wrong but everyone still dances. I laughed, I cringed, I rolled my eyes, and I had a great time doing it. If Netflix wanted to make a film that’s half disaster, half delight — mission wildly accomplished.

Final Score- [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times