Director - Anil Sharma
Cast - Nana Patekar, Utkarsh Sharma, Rajpal Yadav, Simrat Kaur, Khushbu Sunder, Ashwini Kalsekar
Durarion – 159 Minutes
 
Vanvaas is a film that feels like it’s been trapped in the 90s, clinging to the idea that a loud, overblown family drama with melodramatic music and eye-roll inducing dialogue can still pull at the heartstrings. But this time, it’s a bit like an actor trying to force an emotional scene in a play while forgetting their lines. It’s not quite convincing, and you’re left wondering if you should laugh, cry, or just walk out of the theater.
 
The plot, as straightforward as it is, should have worked on paper: Deepak Tyagi (Nana Patekar), a man suffering from severe dementia, is abandoned by his children on the ghats of Benaras. Enter Veeru (Utkarsh Sharma), an orphan who discovers Deepak and takes it upon himself to reunite him with his family. Meanwhile, Deepak’s children, in typical villainous fashion, announce him dead while plotting to steal his fortune. What unfolds is a journey filled with melodrama, emotional manipulation, and long-winded speeches about the sanctity of family, all of which feel like they’ve been recycled from a dozen other similar stories.
 
But while the premise has the potential for an emotional punch, Vanvaas is bogged down by heavy-handed writing and performances that often veer into the absurd. It’s clear that Anil Sharma, who also wrote and directed the film, is trying to make a statement about family values, generational gaps, and abandonment, but his approach is so on-the-nose that it often feels more like a sermon than a story. There’s no room for subtlety here, and everything from the acting to the dialogue delivery feels forced and overly dramatic.
 
Nana Patekar, a talented actor known for his intense performances, is clearly trying his best as Deepak, but even he struggles under the weight of a screenplay that demands constant emotional outbursts. His scenes of confusion and frustration, meant to depict the struggles of a dementia patient, are rendered ineffective because the writing never lets the audience truly connect with him. Instead, the film moves at such a breakneck pace that even his most poignant moments feel rushed.
 
Then there’s Veeru, played by Utkarsh Sharma, who seems more like a plot device than a fully realized character. His motivation is simple: reunite Deepak with his family. But his performance lacks the depth required to make us care about his journey. Instead of being the emotional anchor, Veeru becomes a passive participant, as if the script had already decided his role without allowing him to grow into the part.
 
Supporting characters, including those played by Rajpal Yadav, Simrat Kaur, and Khushbu Sundar, feel like cardboard cutouts in a melodramatic stage play. They exist purely to move the plot forward or to deliver lines that feel more like moral lessons than natural dialogue. At one point, a character refers to Deepak as “useless” because he can’t even bring groceries home, and instead of evoking sympathy, it just feels jarring and almost unintentionally funny.
 
The film’s biggest issue lies in its tone. The screenplay doesn’t know whether it wants to be a tender exploration of family relationships or a sweeping melodrama. Every emotional beat is stretched so thin that by the time it reaches its climax, it no longer feels earned. There’s no room for nuance; you’re either a saintly, dutiful son or a selfish, greedy one—there’s no in-between. This black-and-white world of characters is further amplified by dialogue that tries too hard to be impactful, but ends up sounding more like the voice of a parent lecturing their child on outdated values.
 
Even the film's soundtrack seems to be stuck in a time warp, with bombastic music designed to amplify every emotion, no matter how trivial. At one point, you might even start to wonder if the music is more emotional than the actors. The constant dramatic cues from the score only serve to highlight how little the film trusts its audience to understand the emotional weight of the story without being told every single time how to feel.
 
Vanvaas is also peppered with strange plot holes and inconsistent character motivations. For instance, Deepak, whose dementia is a central part of the plot, suddenly seems to regain clarity in certain scenes, only for his condition to regress without any real explanation. Then, the whole subplot of Deepak’s children trying to steal his fortune feels cartoonishly villainous, with no real depth or justification beyond greed.
 
And let’s not forget about the bizarre subplot involving social media and vlogging. While the film spends a good chunk of time criticizing modern technology and younger generations, it then turns around and uses social media to track down Deepak’s origins. It’s a clear case of the film talking out of both sides of its mouth, offering no real commentary on the role of technology in contemporary life.
 
Vanvaas could have been a moving exploration of family, aging, and memory loss, but it’s too caught up in playing to old tropes and creating cheap melodrama to make any lasting impact. The film tries hard to force emotions, but ends up feeling like a series of staged emotional set-pieces that never quite connect. It’s a movie that forgets its own central theme, sidelining its most compelling character (Deepak) in favor of a young, heroic protagonist with a questionable sense of morality.
 
If you’re looking for a family drama with genuine emotional depth, Vanvaas might leave you wishing you’d stayed home. It’s loud, it’s predictable, and it never gives you a moment to breathe, constantly hammering you with its heavy-handed messages about duty, legacy, and familial love. Think of it as an old relative teaching you family values, but doing so with so much force that you start questioning their own.